Day 20, Stranger in a strange land
My fishing partner was enferma with the touristas, meaning that I was left with sole responsibility of catching the fish for this evening's neighborhood fish fry all by myself. Our host put in an order for cabrilla but for some reason triggers and cabrilla have been hard to come by so I told him I'd bring in some dorado if possible.
I was on the water at six and made about a dozen baits, hard work again, the bay was still suffering the results of the purse sieners. With bait in the boat, I decided to try south of where I had been fishing and picked a course just off Point Concepcion and out seven miles, 13 from the harbor.
I dropped my hoochies and started trolling. Fifteen minutes later the drag started screaming on the starboard reel. I looked back but could see nothing at the surface. I picked up the rod and felt a fish of about 15-20 pounds but had no clue what I had hooked. I reeled in the other hoochie while holding this fish at bay and then cranked it in the rest of the way once I had put the other rod away.
I was surprised to see that the fish was a dorado, a female of about 12 pounds. I brought her close to the boat and waited, hoping to see some amigos but nada. I waited another five minutes and then netted her and laid her on the deck. I needed fish for the fish fry and this fish would have to do. I cleaned her and put the meat on ice.
Another hour's trolling brought zero results. Radio chatter seemed to indicate that my fish was the only Dorado in the neighborhood. Since I was basically meat fishing I thought I'd do something I NEVER do, get out the old Rebels that I had bought when I first read Baja Catch by Gene Kira, way back in 1993. They had sat, unused in my second Baja tackle bag for over 12 years but were still in good condition. I took off the hoochies and put on the Rebels and headed for the rocks.
As I closed with the coast I saw a large group of boobies and pelicans working a piece of water. I shoved the throttle three quarters open and was at the location in minutes. Nothing was moving on the surface and I decided to troll the Rebels rather than throw flies blindly.
I set out the port rod's Rebel about 100 feet behind the boat and then picked up the starboard and did the same. Three seconds after I put the rod in the rod holder the drag began to scream. I looked back and could see the brown bodies of giant squid all over the surface in back of the boat. I dropped the engine in neutral and then shut it off, picked up the rod that was hooked up and SLOWlY as not to attract attention, reeled in the port side rod. Even so, several squid struck it but luckily, didn't get hooked up.
I had never fought a squid so I had no clue what to expect. Surprisingly, if felt very much like a fish and made runs and then eased up allowing me to take in line. Once close to the surface I could see that it was accompanied by many other squid. It was aware of my presence and as soon as it saw the net, made another strong run. I brought it back to the surface and was ready to net it when another squid came up, and wrapped it's tentacles around my squid's body and they both pulled while discharging volumes of ink.
It felt strange watching such a foreign creature being helped by others of its own kind and intimated an alien intelligence and awareness not seen in finned fish.
Another three minutes and the squid was so exhausted that it could no longer avoid the net. I brought it to the deck and its life seemed to quickly pass away.
I cleaned it as I had seen the commercial squidders do, cutting off head and tentacles and the top "fins" leaving only the center tube. I skinned that portion and then sliced open the tube ending up with a piece of squid measuring one foot by two feet and about an inch thick.
Twenty minutes of trolling the Rebels produced nothing so I headed in for the day. Not a big day for fly rodding but definitely another new experience.
Here's a couple of picts of the squid.
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