The holiday season had come and gone once again. It was time for the post-Christmas Baja run. This year, Ramona and Dmitria were slated to go down with Cathy and I. Donna couldn't get the days off this year, but Ed was game. Bruce was also ready for another run. We saddled-up early and hit the dusty trail around 8:30 in the morning. A little over 4 hours later, we were in San Felipe. We got ice, food, gas, beer, and tequila, plus a few machaca burritos before heading south toward Puertecitos.
The Puertecitos road is not much worse and certainly no better than when we were last down in October. It took us about an hour and 10 minutes to go the 53 miles to Puertecitos. We set the odometer on the south side of town to measure the 38 dusty miles to our camp north of Punta Bufeo. The Gonzaga road is a little more washboardy than it was in October, but it had been repaired and was generally in much better shape. The washout of Arroyo Mal de Orin that was caused by Juliette had been repaired. We rolled into camp an hour and 20 minutes after leaving Puertecitos, at about quarter to 4. Ed and Dmitria wandered in about 15 minutes later, after pausing to fix a flat. Ed blew his tire only 3 miles from camp. The entire desert was awash in green. A forest of weeds grew where normally only sand is visible. Here's a shot of our staging area, where we park to unload stuff just south of the shed.
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We settled in and had a great meal of Cathy's chile. As soon as the sun set, the temperature dropped way down. It must have been in the high 30s or low 40s the first two nights. We set up camp and then hit the hay.
Thursday, we got up early and it was beautifully calm. Eddie was called by mother nature and headed toward the outhouse. A very short time later, we heard some commotion and saw Eddie scooting out of the shack trying to pull up his drawers. According to reports, 5 bees landed on subject butt and created the disturbance. The victim was not stung, however. I wondered why bees were flying around inside the outhouse the evening before. That night, after the temperature dropped, I began my battle with a very large hive of honeybees that had constructed a comb beneath the floor of the pooper platform. Several days worth of Raid Ant & Roach spraying was required before the pesky bees got the hint, swarmed and left for greener pastures.
We got the boat in the water about 11 AM. Ed and I fished offshore for a bit, then decided to go out to the island. We fished the pinnacles for a while, but caught nothing of note.
We made our way around Punta Piedra Volcanica and tried to get some yellowtail in a spot where we've got them previously. We were unsuccessful in that pursuit, so we started trolling toward South La Poma. About halfway there, we hooked up with a nice Sierra, around 3 - 4 pounds. We started throwing jigs and caught a couple dozen more before getting tired. The day was getting late and we had to get back before the tides dropped too low. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera. We kept 3 Sierra for the barbecue that night.
Friday dawned as nice as the day before. The tail end of a front blew in that night. It made for a nice sunrise.
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15 minutes later, it looked like this.
The light cast on the Sierra behind us was equally picturesque.
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We launched early, around 8 AM, and headed out to catch some bass. Dmitria and Cathy got a few nice ones.
After catching a few, I dropped them off onshore. Eddie climbed aboard and we motored out toward the island. At the last minute, I turned toward the halibut spot off La Barra. I really marked its GPS coordinates last year on a whim, figuring Donna's fish was more of a fluke than a pattern. Wrong again. We started out catching bass, but on about the 3rd cast, I hooked into something large. I hoisted it off the bottom and wrestled it in. It fought like an old boot: a big boot that is. When it broke color, I saw it was another big `butt. I handed Eddie the gaff and he summarily stuck it. The fish didn't like being stuck by the likes of Eddie, so it ran off about 20 yards of line while I held on. I dredged it up again. This time, Eddie poked it well and flopped it into the boat. It commenced flopping around wildly and sent my tackle box, among other things, flying. A couple healthy whomps from the Whopper Bopper settled it down. It barely fit in the bag. I held it up for a photo-op.
A short time later, Bruce hooked into something that hauled his boat around for awhile, but he lost it. The tidal bore going out across La Barra sounded and looked like rapids in a river.
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We eventually tired of catching bass and triggers and it was getting late, so we headed back to camp. After filleting the fish, we settled in and Eddie made carne asada.
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