As usual, the yearly foray down to Baja began the day after Christmas. Cathy, Dmitria, and a person whose name is not worthy of mention on this site were taking my truck. The nameless one's images have been removed or altered. In deference to other people and the fish, some images remain. I was riding with Pandro and Tracy. They left early. Pandro had trouble with his dog sitter, so he showed-up a couple hours late. It was an uneventful trip down to San Felipe. We ran the regular drill: go to the ice house and fill the coolers with ice; go to the liquor store to buy some tequila and hot sauce; go to the sub-agencia to buy Coronas and Pacificos; go to the Pemex station for gas. Since we got there at about 2:00, Asadero el General wasn't open yet. Rather than go back into town, we stopped at a little fish taco stand nearby. The tacos weren't particularly good (at least they weren't Triggerfish...more on that later), but at least we didn't get sick.
We saddled-up and rode on down the road toward Puertecitos. When we made the turn by the airport at the sign that benignly says, "Laguna Chapala", we noticed that the washouts on the left side of the road had been repaired. That was a pleasant thought: maybe they fixed the road. The next few potholes were repaired too, including the pothole from hell on the S-curve. A big pile of asphalt was nearby. Luck ran out quickly, however. Only the first mile or two had been repaired. Hey, ya gotta start somewhere. Frankly, I'm surprised they even started, given the scope of the project.
A couple of bone-rattling hours later, we arrived in Puertecitos. We aired-down, bought some limons and jalapenos at the market, and headed down toward Gonzaga. Nothing new on that stretch of road, no better, no worse. We arrived at camp around 7:30. We were greeted by our predecessors who proceeded to inform us that the thieving scum had returned and cleaned us out. Indeed they had. They stole 3 pages worth of stuff, worth about $2000 in replacement value. With the exception of my new $400 solar panel, however, most of the stuff was garage sale finds. Nonetheless. I was quite depressed. Here's what they did to the main trailer.
At least they didn't steal the batteries (yet). So, we did have power and limited recharge capacity from the roof-mounted 23 watt Carrizo. Fortunately, they also left the boat gas can, fuel line and other boat stuff so we could go fishing. At least everyone else's vacation could be somewhat enjoyed. I was bummed most of the time I was there however. I implored Santa Claus to come back and bring me a flame thrower so I could go up and wreak a Ramboesque revenge on the entire pangero palace, burning everything to the ground. Santa didn't come through, regrettably (or maybe fortunately). These idiots won't be commanding any rocket ships any time soon. Rather than breaking the window and reaching inside the guest trailer and opening the door, they practically tore the door off.
They worked pretty hard getting the shed open, but when you've got unlimited time and no one from the Rios family looking after things, persistence pays. It sure did for them. Here's the shed.
Well, enough bad stuff. On the bright side, the weather was beautifully cooperative. Quarter tides were in and launching was accomplished early Sunday morning. The motor was running weird and Pandro had problems getting it to cooperate. He eventually figured it out and he, the nameless one and Tracy went up to 3 Humps to get some bass. They got a few and put 'em in the bag. Later that day, Eddie and Donna arrived. Eddie lucked-out this time. The thieves didn't hit him again. They must have known that they'd cleaned him out the last time. The next day was dead-ass calm, so the nameless one, Eddie and I headed out to the Seamount. Before we got there, fish were crashing the surface everywhere. A huge school of Sierra was in. It was one fish a cast, unless they broke off, in which case it was two or three fish a cast, so thick they were. Even with wire leaders, there was so much thrashing and slashing going on that we were loosing lures. This was a problem, since the scum stole my tackle box and the 3 or 4 hundred dollars worth of tackle inside. They didn't find the spare stuff I had stashed on shelves up high, so at least I had a few Crocs and jointed Rebels for us to fish with. We couldn't raise anything but Sierra on the Seamount that day, so we went trolling south to Islote La Poma. We fished the north side for a while, to no avail. We trolled along the east side. When we passed Smuggler's Cove, Eddie got a hookup. It was a firecracker Yellowtail, 3 pounds or so. Eddie messed it up so we kept it. We trolled back and forth the southeast end of La Poma and picked up a couple yellers apiece. the nameless one fought this nice one while Eddie got ready to grab him.
We headed back from the south end of La Poma, choosing to go north around Punta Piedra Volcanica, rather than taking the south route around Punta Cabeza de Pato. I spotted some surface action just short of the point, so I slammed on the brakes. We threw some lures. Large schools of large Yellows swam under the boat. Some of these boys looked like they were 10 lbs+. It was about 1:30. Yellows just don't bite much after noon down here, or so it seems. These ones sure didn't. We were in 35 - 40 feet of water. If the lure sank just a little too much, we'd get hit by bass. Some of these bass were large. Eventually we figured out that the bass bite wasn't such a bad thing after all and filled the bag with about 7 of them, all nice size. Pandro was right, whenever he doesn't go out, we catch lots of fish. The bad part was Eddie & I had to clean them all, including the 3 Sierra and 1 Yellowtail we kept. The good part was that we had plenty of bass for some yummy fish tacos the next night. Later that evening, the nameless one and Dmitria strolled along the cliff by Campo Ed.
A few minutes later, it was another pastel sunset over Isla San Luis.
Tuesday, Dmitria wanted to try her luck, so she, Pandro and I went out. We stopped just beyond Punta Piedra Volcanica at the spot where we saw the big schools of Yellows the day before. No puro, they had moved, so did we. We went back to the southeast side of La Poma. The fish were still there. Dmitria hooked-up first and pulled in this nice Yellow.
We went up to the Seamount. The Sierra were gone. No Yellows were to be found either. The birds weren't even feeding. It looked like the sea took a day off. We headed back in. On the way, I spotted action to the southwest of Punta Piedra Volcanica. It was the Yellowtail. We trolled a while and picked up a few, but it was late and the bite was off before too long. It was now several days after the quarter moon and the moon was waxing toward full moon. The tide was dropping to where it would be too low to get back in if you stayed out too long. We didn't though, so Pandro and I worked on the veranda. That was to be a good trick, since I broke Pandro's wood handled hammer and the scum had stolen both of mine. We borrowed one junky hammer that they'd not stolen from Bruce's place. I wasn't very inspired, but if my campo was being destroyed, at least I'd make the scum tear my structures down. Up to this time, they hadn't yet stolen my wood. Bruce hadn't showed up yet. We figured he'd gone back to Ohio. Pandro & I shuttled 2 X 4s down there to use his inverter. The ladrones apparently didn't know what it was, since they didn't steal it. They did break into his house again. They cleaned him out too. Got his solar panel and his 20 HP Merc outboard, among myriad other things. Here's Pandro up on the roof.
It was a beautiful sunset that night. Here's the sunset over Isla San Luis.
And here it is looking north toward Lobos and Cholludo. Note the low tide at Roger's Bay.
Bruce's buddy, Packy, had picked up where the scum had left off. Packy the Wood Rat (packrat) was eating the house from the inside out! It was incredible how much damage the critter did. Packrats are actually pretty cool animals out in the wild, but inside a house, they're the rats-from-hell. Hoses, wires, door jambs, even the drywall fell victim to his incessant chewing. You can read more about the saga of Packy on Bwana Bob's Campo News.Taxonomically, Packy's a Desert Wood Rat. Heeeere's Packy (in his natural habitat)!
Surprisingly, Bruce showed-up that night. To continue the story of Christmas 1998 and New Year's 1999, click on Packy.