Mexico Report day 1

[BanannaMan]

Our destination was Barra de Navidad, a small town on the Pacific Ocean north of Manzanillo, where the airport is located. I arrived, along with my familiar fishing companions and friends, owners of a local fly shop in the Portland area. We were picked up by their son Troy who lives in Guzman and is the owner of a fly tying company there. Our accommodations were at the Cabo Blanco Hotel, an all inclusive resort with a dock for Troy’s boat. After settling in to our rooms and sampling the local fare we rigged our rods, inspected all the flies Troy had brought and planned the next days fishing. Our main focus was sailfish on the fly, but there were reports of good numbers of Dorado in the area which is not a bad fallback!

Day one started out with the short walk from the hotel room to the dock to board Capt. Troy’s new twenty-four foot, 250 horsepower powered, boat the Dream Catcher. The weather was warm and calm as is the case with most pre-dawn tropical days. After a brief warm-up of the motor and the storage of fishing gear and multiple rods we were on our way. It was a short trip through the shallow waters of Barra de Navidad harbor past the breakwater and into the bay. We were met by small swells that were quickly overcome as the 250 hp motor brought the boat on step and sped us on to our first destination.

It was a short ride to the rocks for a quick stop to search for Dorado before heading out to search for the main reason for the trip, catching sailfish on the fly. Fly lines were let out with various sink tips and floating lines with flies of differing sizes that have caught fish on past excursions to these waters. With the lines set, the boat began a slow troll around and amongst the rocks to locate our quarry.

The first strike of the trip makes the fly reel sing that sweet sound of line ripping into the backing. We wait in anticipation of the fish breaking the surface of the water and the inevitable cries of “that’s a big fish”. The fish goes deep, however, and begins a tug of war that belies its true size. After fifteen minutes of 12 weight rod bending action, a fifteen inch bonito is lifted from the depths, tailed and released. After this scenario is repeated a few times it was decided that it is time to head out to blue water to search for the majestic sailfish.


The Pacific Ocean has become “agitated” and the wind has come up slightly so it takes about and hour to run out 14 miles. The water temperature is 82.7 degrees and a cobalt blue, clear sunny skies, and 85 degrees. In go the lines, this time with larger files. Again we begin trolling at a slightly faster speed with all eyes on the flies which are running just under the surface occasionally popping out creating a bubble stream.

The rod I am holding suddenly jerks and a sailfish is sighted, its bill slashing at the fly. Now typically a billfish will do this to stun its prey before circling around to eat it. This fish must have been hungry because before Capt. Troy can take the boat out of gear it fish hangs itself on the fly and takes off. This being my first sailfish I am not quite sure what to do. The drag is set lightly, so to try and get a good hook set I tighten the drag to put more tension on the line and then let the fish have it with my best Jimmy Houston imitation. If it had been a steelhead it would have been yanked out of the river and flung into the trees. This, of course, fails to slow the progress of the fish and moments later it pops off. Now of course comes the inevitable analysis of my technique, and the good natured ribbing that comes with losing any fish, from my fishing amigos.

I put my line back into the water after eating the slice of humble pie served by my friends and wait for another chance. Enough time has passed that my concentration has waned and I am no longer watching my fly when I feel another tug. This fish is not quite as aggressive as the first but it is chasing the fly slashing at it with its bill. Capt. Troy speeds up the boat to excite the fish and make it work harder and that seemed to work. As I watch, it devours the fly and makes a sharp turn away. I set the hook with all the force that the 14 weight fly rod can provide and the battle is on. This fish stays on and feels like I hooked up with a jet boat speeding downriver (don’t ask me how I know this). It breaks the surface a half dozen times and I realize just how much line is out. I tighten down the drag and begin the process of recovering the running line. It is 15 minutes before the fly line appears and 10 minutes before the sink tip and leader are visible. It is at this point that this fish decides to begin a tug of war. Neither of use will surrender an inch to the other and it becomes a battle of wills and conditioning. After what seemed like hours (in reality 10 minutes tops), Capt. Troy gets a grip on the bill and lifts it onto the back rail. It is a “small” sail, but it makes no difference to me. A few quick pictures and I revive and release it.

I check my hooks, comb back out the fly and reset my line and place it in a holder as is everyone else. Good fishing companions bestow accolades as well good natured ribbing and as I am accepting my gratis the reel on my rod begins to peel off. This time there was no warning just instant acceleration. Instinctively, I grab the rod and set the hook now that I am an “expert” at hooking these terrific sport fish. The line is still preceding 180 degrees opposite from the course of the boat, but there is no indication of what it is attached to. I think to hand off the rod to someone else so that they can have a turn; after all I have not quite recovered from the last fight. At that moment the fish stops and jumps, a sailfish! All thought of handing off the rod fades like a red shirt in a load of whites and the fight is on!

The fight is much like the first, except increased exponentially buy its greater size. It takes a little longer to land, my muscles ache and I am bombarded by quotes of “reel down on it”. To which I responded “Have you ever reeled down on a Buick at the bottom of a lake?” It is finally boated, photographed and put back into the water. While trying to revive this majestic fish I noticed that while the hook was sunk in the corner of the mouth, the hook was too large because it came out through an eye, we changed to smaller hooks to prevent this from happening again. Thirty minutes of trying to revive the fish were unsuccessful, and coupled with the lost eye this fish was destined for the smoker. I felt bad about it but I would have felt worse if it had gone to waste.

Now its not as if anyone in this group would have taken the rod as I found out later, but that didn’t stop the slightly higher level of ribbing I received for catching all the fish. I was banished to the front of the boat for the rest of the day, which resulted in no more hookups. A fact I pointed out, and the give and take continued all the way back to port.

[bait boy]

congratulations on catching such a wonderful fighting fish it sounds like you had a very exciting trip.

[Popeye]

Great recount BanannaMan! [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img] Keep'm comin'

[tailchaser]

SWEEEET, my dad is heading to Cabo tomorrow, with hopes of hooking into a few of those bad boys. Man I wish I was going also. Send some pics!!!!!

tc

[corrirod]

Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :shocked:

I was right there with you(in my imagination)! I could smell the humid salt air and see those fish jumping and hear that reel screeming!

You Da-man! Keep them coming! [img]graemlins/applause.gif[/img]

[id. painter]

Thanks ,, I was right there with ya . id. painter

[Reel Creel]

BM,
out standing, I wish I was there what a day of fishing. :smile: