EAT ~ SLEEP ~ FISH

A YEAR IN TRAINING…

April 2017

Two days after returning home from the East Cape, I booked our next visit… Yup, that was it, I was hooked… I had a year to get myself ready, and this time, I was going to be prepared.

I thought I was prepared the first time around.  I brought my salt water rod, my intermediate saltwater line, wire and regular leaders, flies, sunglasses, a hat, a long sleeved shirt, and a buff.  Pfff… I was set!  I had never fly fished in the Sea before but how hard could it be?  And besides, I was fishing not catching right?  I planned to have a few cervezas, go for a little swim, catch a few rays, and make a few (pretty) casts.  Ahhh NO… In actuality, it was an insane, body breaking, and mind draining adventure.  I felt like I had been beat with a baseball bat and left to die in the desert, with a smile on my face!  Imagine running on hot coals with bare feet, chasing a moving target that is COMPLETELY out of your reach, while waving around a piece of fluff with an acute point on the end of it, all in wind that could dry the sloppy lips of a St. Bernard!  I came home with blisters on my hands, a strained wrist, SI joint pain, cankles, a torn rotator cuff, dehydration, and a full body sun burn!!  And I loved it.

After two full days of instruction with Lance Peterson , I learned that I was “in the game,” but I needed to do these five things if I was going to have a chance at hooking a roosterfish, and put it on the beach.

No.1

Get a good pair of polarized sunglasses.  You can’t hunt what you can’t see.

No. 2

Practice my cast.  I had a good cast but it was geared towards British Columbia rivers and lakes.  It was high, soft, and pretty, which won’t get your fly over the waves and out to the fish in the “Baja breeze.”  I needed to keep it low, put my shoulder into it, let go of my fear of getting hooked, and give it some gusto.  So I practiced what I could remember of his instruction, in my driveway, using the Merritt wind as my “Baja breeze.”  I was able to get it out a good 90ft, which turns into about 40ft in the Baja, and I was happy with that.

No. 3

Penetrate the water.  I learned that I need to get as far into the water as I can in order to close the gap between me and the fish.  “Don’t be afraid to get in there,” he said… Ya right!  Until a waves swallows me whole and tumbles me like a wet sock in the dryer!  But I really wanted that roosterfish, so I promised myself I would get in there next year.

No. 4

Practice my stripping.  Again, I was taught to strip for trout and salmon, not large predators.  If you don’t get this right, a roosterfish will simply turn away, uninterested, laughing at the gimpy deceiver you are trying to fool him with.  And once they’re gone, they’re gone.  So I came home and practiced long, quick, consistent strips, and started to feel pretty confident that I could flirt my fly well enough to get some interest.

No. 5

Strengthen my body.   I am a strong sturdy woman on the edge of being chubby, so when I run it’s not reminiscent of a gazelle… I decided that I would start a Baja training program that was focused on building my arm and leg strength so I can bring in the fish, and short bursts of cardio to accommodate the unexpected sprints when you see a fish (or a rock that fakes you out).

After a year of practicing, preparing for, and dreaming about catching that fish, I was pretty sure I was ready.  My husband and I spent everyday on the shores of the Baja, sometimes casting to some HUGE roosterfish and sometimes to small needlefish and jack crevalle.

I could see the fish, I felt good running down the beach, I penetrated the water, but my casts were crap!  The roosters were so big and intimidating that my heart was pounding and all I could hear were the drums from a nature video like when a wildebeest is being chased by lion or a hyena.   With each cast my hands would shake and my cast would crumble.  One opportunity after another gone… I didn’t catch a roosterfish on this trip… but there is always next year.