I GOT COMBED

A ROOSTER TALE

November 2017

What was supposed to be a year-long wait, happily turned into a short six months. I was so excited to return to the sea, the hermit crabs, and my little stone cottage, that I booked another trip in November, fully aware that November was not “rooster season.” That didn’t matter though, I was eager to find out what else was lurking beneath the crystal blue waters of the Sea of Cortez.

During my first two visits to the Baja, I used a 10wt fly rod in anticipation of hooking a large fish. It was heavy and awkward to cast but at least I was prepared if something big hit my line. As fate would have it, my husband borrowed that rod on our last trip, and he snapped it in half while frantically casting to a docile needlefish that was completely uninterested in his fly (he would tell you it happened while fighting a large fish). Fortunately, this gave me the opportunity to buy a new rod, a lighter one that would be easier to cast and give me a little more control over where my fly landed. After doing some research, I found a good deal on a sturdy 8wt that was made for the tough Baja conditions.

A week before our departure, I had everything packed (four times over). I had a dog sitter in place, I had been fake-and-baking so that I wouldn’t burn in the scorching sun, and I had someone looking after our Clinic. The countdown was on, everything was ready, and everything was perfect. Or so I thought! Three days before we left, I got a cold… Then, three hours before we left, I found out that the dog sitter forgot she was taking my pooch! Then, as we were leaving our sleepy little town, my shoulder started to ache. Only a little at first, but by the time we arrived in Vancouver it had moved down into my arm. My right arm. My casting arm… I couldn’t even bring my hand to my face, and the pain was unbelievable. This trip was quickly falling apart and so was I. Thankfully my husband is an RMT (registered massage therapist), and a dang good one I might add, so I turned to him for help. He gave me a treatment before we went to bed, and then we prayed for healing. The morning met me with even worse pain than I had the night before, but time was ticking, and I had no choice but to board the plane with a gimpy arm.

 

We arrived in Cabo in the early afternoon, and were met with insane heat as we exited the plane. A good friend of ours met us at the airport and took us down the long dusty road that led to the Villa and our little stone cottage. All my cares (and some of my pain) disappeared when I saw the cottage, the sand, and the waves. After dipping my toes in the warm waters, we unpacked and got ready for dinner. The heat, and a couple of margaritas, seemed to settle the pain in my arm a little so I proceeded to put my new rod together with hopes of casting it in the morning.

The pain woke me up before sunrise, and I felt defeated. God had answered my prayers with a “not yet,” and so I being the stubborn woman that I am, was not going to let a little thing like not having use of my casting arm stop me from fishing! I grabbed my sunglasses and my rod and walked to the edge of the water. As it licked my toes, I could hear the waves calling out to me. Right then and there, I decided that I was going to cast through the pain and work it out the hard way. As painful as it was, it worked. Between the warmth of the sun, the Advil, and the massage therapy treatments, my arm improved more and more with each day, and by the morning of the fourth day, my arm and shoulder were healed.

My 8wt rod was casting beautifully. It was light, and my casts were long, direct, and better than ever before. I was into fish, and lots of them. This was turning out to be the best trip yet. I felt connected to the water and the fish. Then, one afternoon, as I cast in to a frenzy of fish chasing small bait fish, it happened. I got combed! (Rooster fish are predators, and getting combed is when you cause a rooster fish to get so excited about your fly that it raises its dorsal fin in anticipation of devouring its prey.)

  

From out of nowhere, four small roosters were zeroing in on my fly and then BAM, one of them took my fly. At first I was in shock, but I quickly came to my senses and tightened my line. It went left, then right, then left again. It was fighting hard, and I was in heaven. It didn’t take long for me to bring it in, and when I finally held that rooster in my hands, my heart was pounding, and I was shaking with excitement. I wore a grin from ear to ear, and I think I even had a couple of tears. This was everything that I had been waiting for, everything I had worked so hard for. I quickly gave it a little kiss and then released it back into the sea to grow bigger and stronger for my next visit. The fish was completely unimpressed with my affection, and slapped me in the face with his tail. When I let him go, he took off like a shot back out to the deep blue.

 After celebrating with a high five to my husband, I walked up the beach to sit in the sunshade, shocked, thrilled, and in total disbelief. As the days went on, I continued to catch lots of fish, and even another rooster.
This coming April, I will return to the sea of Cortez, to the sand, and to the little stone cottage in hopes to have another chance at getting combed.