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| Baja Rooster Fish |
Garth, a small cute dog with dwarfism, laid calmly under our restaurant table while we ate outdoors under the palapa roof. The beautiful East Cape night sky was kicking in. It was silent and still. A few residents walked the village dirt road. A four wheeler (quad), the local transportation of choice, went by, and then an emaciated cow. It moved so slowly I had time to count it's ribs. Desert cattle have it rough. I understood why the waiter said there was no carne (meat) on the menu. We drank beers from an aged, scarred Styrofoam cooler that was far from its original white colour (think nicotine yellow). We had brought it along and filled it with several quart sized bottles. We had the place to ourselves. The tourist season was over. Most Gringos had returned north a month or so ago. The food was great. The price was great. The whole setting was great. Eating in a restaurant with a dog at you feet was the best. Where can you do that?
I was with Baja Phil a Gringo who lives in Mexico year round. Think of a blend of Robert Duvall, the quiet grace of Ed Harris and a dash of Micky Rourke for flavor. In his best khaki guide shirt he popped the caps off of our beers and spoke about fly fishing for rooster fish. All season long Baja Phil prowls miles and miles of beach on his rumbling road warrior like four wheeler in search of monster rooster fish. He fishes with a two handed fly rod that touches the sky. He's an original; the real deal.
I have learnt a lot from Baja Phil the couple of times I fished with him as well as other regulars along the East Cape. I have several mantras burned in my brain: "Look for bait; are the bait balls moving fast, are they morphing, is a predator pushing them?; watch the beach troughs, especially the ones containing bait; scan the outer beach bar for dark objects crossing swiftly into the shallows; look for bait sprays or nervousness; watch and then watch more; if you see one go after it, go fast!; get your fly in front of it and strip; watch the response to the strip and modify if needed; keep the fly moving and you have a chance to dupe them; if the fly stops it is all over, bye bye rooster."
I had just completed twelve consecutive days of fly fishing on foot. It was my fifth season (spring time) back. It was my fourth staying at Baja Phil's place in the sand dunes just off of the rough washboard coastal dirt road. I had seen fewer fish this year but still managed to spot some large, jaw- dropping ones. I had landed a good one on my second to last day. This doesn't always happen, at least for me. I always expect that I may go home fish less. This is a long shot sport on foot. The odds are against you. I know that while I am here I have to completely commit to searching for fish and that I have to concentrate and always be alert. Opportunity is often brief...gone in seconds. You can go days without another shot. I have learnt that I have to put in my time. I am happy just to see fish. I'm thrilled when one chases my fly. I'm ecstatic with a hooked fish. I'm in disbelief when I land one. You have to be lucky. Everything has to go right. And many, many things often go wrong. Most of all you have to survive the heat and your feet. You have to hydrate even when you think you don't need water. And walking in the sand destroys your soft winter feet, even when you are in flats boots. If you can last out there you got a chance. Last and as Baja Phil says, "keep your fly moving".
