08-02-2008, 10:27 PM
Although I have fished her numerous times I was still filled with anticipation. Things had not gone right with the connecting flight from Houston and one of my rod cases hadn’t made it. I hoped it wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.
Zihuatanajo lies 90 kilometers north of Acapulco adjacent to the tourist town of Ixtapa in the Mexican tropics. A small quiet fishing village of around 30 thousand, it provides some of the finest offshore fishing for sailfish in the world. Marlin magazine rates it #2 behind Costa Rica for sails and they are what brought me here time and time again.
Late July and early August are not the best time for sails and other billfish but there was another vegetable in the stew that warranted putting up with the oppressive heat...... Pez Gallo, the rooster fish, denizen of the inshore surf. Roosters are found only in the pacific from south america north to the Baja, seldom south of Mulega. Legendary battlers, roosters have their own cadre of admirers who consider them the greatest of all inshore specie. They are named for the distinct dorsal fins that rise from their back like the ccombs of a rooster. I had caught several in years past but they were small fish and this trip I was looking for a big one. Something over 25 kilos on light tackle. Something for the wall.
After a short inexpensive cab ride from the Ixtapa airport, we checked into the small house we had rented and I called my friend Captain Noe Martinez to join us for a cold beer and to review our plans for the next 10 days of fishing. Additionally, I had four rods and reels and a suitcase full of heavy duty tackle I had brought Noe, much of it unavailable in Zihuatanajo. I brough him much needed tackle and I traded for the fishing
The evening sped by as we reminiced past trips and epic battles with tuna and billfish. Noe is the consumate fisherman. Captain of well used Mexican panga, an open fishing boat generally rigged with a smallish outboard motor, Noe is focused and laser driven, He has one objective when at sea and that is to catch fish. In fifty years of fishing the world over, I have found no one whom does it better. He has an uncanny ability to know where the fish are going to be in the vast offshore waters of the pacific.
We built in flexibility with our plans to factor in the monsoon rains that are always present in the tropics this time of year. The rains wouldn’t keep us off the water, but violent winds that occasionally occompany the rains certainly would.
It was dark when I arose. No coffee or coffee pot in the little rental house. I stumbled into the street looking for a cab to take me to the marina. “La Cruda”, I cursed. “the hangover”.
I was a half hour early when I arrived at the marina. Thick black Mexican coffee cleared my head. I leaned agains the wall of Lilly’s cantina and restaurant and watched the tourist anglers arrive from the swank hotels of Ixtapa. One young guy was obviously lost. I inquired as to who he was looking for, thinking I might know the captain he had arranged to fish with.
He explained and I knew he had been had so I told him he could come fish with us at no charge save the tip for captain Noe at the end of the day. Thirty minutes latter, we loaded into the panga, bought a couple of dozen big eyed scad for bait and headed for the deep blue water that existed a short mile or two outside the harbor of Zihuatanajo. The young man looked at us intently, an old man and the Mexican captain. He no doubt was asking himself, “What in the hell am I doing here?”
Noe rigged two big black bart lures to 80 lb Penn International reels and two light rods went to the outriggers. Both of these reels were loaded with Ande 12 lb test with 8 foot of 60 pound fluorocarbon leader. These light rods were rigged with live bait bridled to 8/0 circle hooks. Our plan was to troll in a big semicircle 6 to 8 miles up the coast looking for sails or marlin and then to swing inshore to fish for Roosterfish. Pez Gallo, as the Mexicans say. The pronunciation is Guy-O.
I was watching the set up closely but didn’t see the sail fish until I heard the reels clicker start screaming. I grabbed the rod, threw the lever forward and set the hook. I urged the young angler forward and handed him the rod.” Let the fish take line when he wants to. Don’t reel when he’s taking line and most important, I advised him, Don’t let go of that rod” 15 minutes later the fish was to the boat after 7 or 8 absolutely spectacular jumps. Noe quickly killed the majestic fish and the young angler sat on the transom and beamed as I took his picture. “I can’t believe it” he kept repeating. “I just can’t believe it! 40 minutes had not past and we had a sail fish (Pez Vela) in the boat. “Oh, great thing are going to happen” I thought.
After the young man had calmed down a little he quietly asked why Noe had killed the sail. “That is part of the deal here, son. The Mexicans sell the fish at the markets to supplement their income.” That is just the way it is and there is no sense getting ones panties knotted up over it.
Noe pulled the Yamaha into gear and we turned east into shore. The fooling around was over. We were after the roosters. I didn’t have the fly rod I had left Salt Lake with, but I would still be able to use the light tackle I had brought Noe.
The panga pulled in very close to the breaking surf the rooster reside in and moved slowly along the break. There was no room for error here. If the motor stalled or a rouge wave snuck in on us with our backs to the sea the panga would be capsized and the probability of drowning was high. I tried not to think about it as we began to cast the surface poppers.
Roosters are hard to find and even harder to induce to strike. Noe knew for a fact that they were here now I had to do my part.
I cast for as long as I could catching Jack Cravelle and needlefish, but no sign of roosters. I shrugged my shoulder and put an inquisitive face on as if to ask “Where are they?”
“Put a live bait on.” Noe said. I hooked the 8 inch baitfish through the back and cast it out into the frothing surf. The rod tip started jumping as the bait swam around anxiously. The live bait was about to become breakfast for something big. I just hoped that it was a roosterfish and not another jack.
When the fish hit the bait it was as though a freight train had hooked onto the bait. The rod bent deeply and the small reel absolutely screamed. I threw the lever, setting the reel into strike. There was no reason to set the hook. The rooster turned to rush for open water away from the beach and all I could do was hang on. I
d to myself. This is what I came to Zihuatanajo for and it was worth everything I had put up with to get here.
POSTSCRIPT: During the eight days I fished Zihuatanajo I caught two sailfish, numerous roosters including a 50 inch 40 pounder for the wall, yellowfin tuna, pompano, amber jack, snappers, groupers, needlefish. The high point was the magnificent roosters and the company of my old friend Noe Martinez,and the young man from Houston who was now hooked on the magic of fishing. It turned out the young man, Kenny, was in Ixtapa on his honeymoon. He fished with us for two days and I think his new bride was ready to divorce him for favoring the company of crusty old fishermen than her. OH well. She turned out to be a great kid who just let the magic of Zihuatanajo sweep her up as it did the rest of us.
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Zihuatanajo lies 90 kilometers north of Acapulco adjacent to the tourist town of Ixtapa in the Mexican tropics. A small quiet fishing village of around 30 thousand, it provides some of the finest offshore fishing for sailfish in the world. Marlin magazine rates it #2 behind Costa Rica for sails and they are what brought me here time and time again.
Late July and early August are not the best time for sails and other billfish but there was another vegetable in the stew that warranted putting up with the oppressive heat...... Pez Gallo, the rooster fish, denizen of the inshore surf. Roosters are found only in the pacific from south america north to the Baja, seldom south of Mulega. Legendary battlers, roosters have their own cadre of admirers who consider them the greatest of all inshore specie. They are named for the distinct dorsal fins that rise from their back like the ccombs of a rooster. I had caught several in years past but they were small fish and this trip I was looking for a big one. Something over 25 kilos on light tackle. Something for the wall.
After a short inexpensive cab ride from the Ixtapa airport, we checked into the small house we had rented and I called my friend Captain Noe Martinez to join us for a cold beer and to review our plans for the next 10 days of fishing. Additionally, I had four rods and reels and a suitcase full of heavy duty tackle I had brought Noe, much of it unavailable in Zihuatanajo. I brough him much needed tackle and I traded for the fishing
The evening sped by as we reminiced past trips and epic battles with tuna and billfish. Noe is the consumate fisherman. Captain of well used Mexican panga, an open fishing boat generally rigged with a smallish outboard motor, Noe is focused and laser driven, He has one objective when at sea and that is to catch fish. In fifty years of fishing the world over, I have found no one whom does it better. He has an uncanny ability to know where the fish are going to be in the vast offshore waters of the pacific.
We built in flexibility with our plans to factor in the monsoon rains that are always present in the tropics this time of year. The rains wouldn’t keep us off the water, but violent winds that occasionally occompany the rains certainly would.
It was dark when I arose. No coffee or coffee pot in the little rental house. I stumbled into the street looking for a cab to take me to the marina. “La Cruda”, I cursed. “the hangover”.
I was a half hour early when I arrived at the marina. Thick black Mexican coffee cleared my head. I leaned agains the wall of Lilly’s cantina and restaurant and watched the tourist anglers arrive from the swank hotels of Ixtapa. One young guy was obviously lost. I inquired as to who he was looking for, thinking I might know the captain he had arranged to fish with.
He explained and I knew he had been had so I told him he could come fish with us at no charge save the tip for captain Noe at the end of the day. Thirty minutes latter, we loaded into the panga, bought a couple of dozen big eyed scad for bait and headed for the deep blue water that existed a short mile or two outside the harbor of Zihuatanajo. The young man looked at us intently, an old man and the Mexican captain. He no doubt was asking himself, “What in the hell am I doing here?”
Noe rigged two big black bart lures to 80 lb Penn International reels and two light rods went to the outriggers. Both of these reels were loaded with Ande 12 lb test with 8 foot of 60 pound fluorocarbon leader. These light rods were rigged with live bait bridled to 8/0 circle hooks. Our plan was to troll in a big semicircle 6 to 8 miles up the coast looking for sails or marlin and then to swing inshore to fish for Roosterfish. Pez Gallo, as the Mexicans say. The pronunciation is Guy-O.
I was watching the set up closely but didn’t see the sail fish until I heard the reels clicker start screaming. I grabbed the rod, threw the lever forward and set the hook. I urged the young angler forward and handed him the rod.” Let the fish take line when he wants to. Don’t reel when he’s taking line and most important, I advised him, Don’t let go of that rod” 15 minutes later the fish was to the boat after 7 or 8 absolutely spectacular jumps. Noe quickly killed the majestic fish and the young angler sat on the transom and beamed as I took his picture. “I can’t believe it” he kept repeating. “I just can’t believe it! 40 minutes had not past and we had a sail fish (Pez Vela) in the boat. “Oh, great thing are going to happen” I thought.
After the young man had calmed down a little he quietly asked why Noe had killed the sail. “That is part of the deal here, son. The Mexicans sell the fish at the markets to supplement their income.” That is just the way it is and there is no sense getting ones panties knotted up over it.
Noe pulled the Yamaha into gear and we turned east into shore. The fooling around was over. We were after the roosters. I didn’t have the fly rod I had left Salt Lake with, but I would still be able to use the light tackle I had brought Noe.
The panga pulled in very close to the breaking surf the rooster reside in and moved slowly along the break. There was no room for error here. If the motor stalled or a rouge wave snuck in on us with our backs to the sea the panga would be capsized and the probability of drowning was high. I tried not to think about it as we began to cast the surface poppers.
Roosters are hard to find and even harder to induce to strike. Noe knew for a fact that they were here now I had to do my part.
I cast for as long as I could catching Jack Cravelle and needlefish, but no sign of roosters. I shrugged my shoulder and put an inquisitive face on as if to ask “Where are they?”
“Put a live bait on.” Noe said. I hooked the 8 inch baitfish through the back and cast it out into the frothing surf. The rod tip started jumping as the bait swam around anxiously. The live bait was about to become breakfast for something big. I just hoped that it was a roosterfish and not another jack.
When the fish hit the bait it was as though a freight train had hooked onto the bait. The rod bent deeply and the small reel absolutely screamed. I threw the lever, setting the reel into strike. There was no reason to set the hook. The rooster turned to rush for open water away from the beach and all I could do was hang on. I
d to myself. This is what I came to Zihuatanajo for and it was worth everything I had put up with to get here.POSTSCRIPT: During the eight days I fished Zihuatanajo I caught two sailfish, numerous roosters including a 50 inch 40 pounder for the wall, yellowfin tuna, pompano, amber jack, snappers, groupers, needlefish. The high point was the magnificent roosters and the company of my old friend Noe Martinez,and the young man from Houston who was now hooked on the magic of fishing. It turned out the young man, Kenny, was in Ixtapa on his honeymoon. He fished with us for two days and I think his new bride was ready to divorce him for favoring the company of crusty old fishermen than her. OH well. She turned out to be a great kid who just let the magic of Zihuatanajo sweep her up as it did the rest of us.
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