Because I started late I headed out to where I thought the dorado might be hanging out, about 16 miles out and a little further north. I dropped both my hoochies and was into fish immediatly.
It was a great day, four on hoochies and eight on la mosca (the fly). After the first six I took the pliers and opened my hook slightly so that I could try to shake the fish off rather than have the struggle of bringing them all the way to the boat.
There were so many dorado in the area I decided to call it Area 51. Just a patch of ocean with no particular landmarks that seemed to hold heaps of fish.
By a quarter to twelve I was tired. Handling the Judas fish on the conventional gear, moving them from rod holder to rod holder to keep clear of the stern and the fish I had on my fly rod plus landing the fish on the fly rod and handling the boat by my self had worn me out. I could have stayed out and caught double the amount of fish but I decided to give myself and the fish a rest and headed in. The largest fish of the day was on a fly, a male about 20 pounds, the smallest also on a fly, a female of about five pounds.
On day eight I thought I'd look to see how far the southern end of Area 51 extended to. I headed out south of all my marked positions and started working north. It was a flat calm day and only 88 degrees in the shade of the bimini. I trolled from south to north through the entire Area 51 patch without a single strike. The fish, just like the aliens in Area 51, had vanished.
At one in the afternoon when I was at the northern limit, I heard some boats talking on the radio and spotted them four miles farther out. They were into the fish. I decided against heading out and instead went to the shallow bays northwest of Santa Inez island and played with my eight and nine weights.
I caught a few triggers but nothing else and finally headed in. Once in I talked to one of my neighbors and told him of the flats fishing at Santa Inez. He told me the halibut were in and I could have hung one if I was lucky. I put it on my list of things to do.
Tomorrow I'll take the day off. Sunday, a search in Concepcion Bay for a mythical underwater plateau where roosters rip bait in three feet of water. Monday, who knows, maybe dorado, and then again, maybe Mr. Halibut. Then there's Mr. Pargo. I still need to get even with him.
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