Long Range Fish Report
From Tailhunter Sportfishing
From Tailhunter Sportfishing
Fish Report for 10-14-2013
"Through the Looking Glass"
10-14-2013
Jonathan Roldan
October 14, 2013 by Jonathan Roldan
Originally Published the Week of Oct. 15, 2013 in Western Outdoor News
The famous arch on the public pier in La Paz welcoming visitors to the "Port of Magic."
Here in La Paz, we call the waterfront area, the Malecon. It's the Mexican equivalent of "fisherman's wharf" in so many ocean-front areas in the U.S. And, like it's counterparts north of the border, the malecon is a hub of commercial and social activity.
Restaurants, stores, cantinas and tourist shops dot the area and cater to the numerous locals and tourists enjoying the mile-long stretch of beach and concrete boardwalk.
Smack dab in the middle is the city pier. At the entrance to that pier is an arch proclaiming "Bienvenidos al Puerto de Illusion" (Welcome to the Port of Magic).
I never really gave it much thought. Just another chamber-of-commerce slogan to welome tourists. Yawn. Lo que sea (whatever). A bit like U.S. towns annointing themselves the "Cucumber Capital of the World" or "The Place Where Teddy Roosevelt Went to Middle School."
And I live and work in the "Port of Magic." Right. OK.
And for about 10 months of the year, we are myopically focused on running our fishing business and restaurant 24/7. Boats in and out. Clients and amigos coming and going. Flights to catch and meet. Luggage and fishing gear hauled and carried. Fish to be packed and frozen.
We're out of salsa. The pork ribs didn't arrive. There's a busted toilet. The beer truck only brought half our order. The drummer in the band is sick. Two TV's are don't work and we have a full house for football games.
Did I just hear a bunch of glasses shatter? What do you mean we have no tortillas tonite? Which panga just broke down? Your buddy just heatstroked and needs a doctor? No, I don't know where you put your passport! I don't know why the bait is so small this year. Yes, it's OK to drink the water.
It's crazy. It's hectic. We're little gerbils on a treadmill. We love our lives and are immeasurably blessed. But, after months with zero days off, we're human.
We bump into walls. We growl at each other. Patience is thin. Sometimes our smiles aren't as ready or as genuine as we would like. How many times can I answer, "Where are the tuna?" or "So, how come the captains don't speak English?"
But every now and then the cosmos send down a message that gives us pause to remember where we are and what we really do.
It happened just this week. Rick was on his 2nd trip in two years with us here at Tailhunters. He's a fireman. He pulled me aside one evening at the restaurant. He grabbed my hand in his big paw, shook it and gave me a big brotherly-bear hug.
"Hey man, I just want to thank you for having me here," he said sincerely.
"Oh sure, glad you're having a good time!" I replied somewhat generically. I was kind of in a hurry and didn't really have a long time to chat. The restaurant was filling up and I was expecting a big load of arrivals from the airport. My anxiety was a little piqued.
"No, Jonathan, I really appreciate being here with you and Jill," he replied a bit quietly. He wouldn't let go of my hand. "This place stitches my soul."
Pause. He looked at me eye-to-eye. It slowed me down. "Stitches my soul?"
"I'm a fireman. I see a lot of things. For a few days a year, being here in Baja helps put my soul back together. For a few days on a boat and with my friends, it helps me make sense of things again. When, I'm fishing my reality is simplified down to a bit of nylon string and a bit of bait. Things start to make sense again. It's my happy place. It helps me do what I do the rest of the year. Thanks, man."
With that, he gave me another bear hug and let go of my hand. He grinned and went upstairs to join the rest of his amigos already into their beers.
I stood there in my own moment.
Stiches my soul. A place where things make sense again. His happy space.
It's good to remember that this isn't just about how many fish you catch. It's not about "just a vacation."
There's often a bigger picture here. I have to remind myself that we're especially blessed to be part of it. It's indeed a magic place and a magic space through which we pass. Vamos al Puerto de Illusion! Find your happy place, amigos.
That's my story
Jonathan
Originally Published the Week of Oct. 15, 2013 in Western Outdoor News
The famous arch on the public pier in La Paz welcoming visitors to the "Port of Magic."
Here in La Paz, we call the waterfront area, the Malecon. It's the Mexican equivalent of "fisherman's wharf" in so many ocean-front areas in the U.S. And, like it's counterparts north of the border, the malecon is a hub of commercial and social activity.
Restaurants, stores, cantinas and tourist shops dot the area and cater to the numerous locals and tourists enjoying the mile-long stretch of beach and concrete boardwalk.
Smack dab in the middle is the city pier. At the entrance to that pier is an arch proclaiming "Bienvenidos al Puerto de Illusion" (Welcome to the Port of Magic).
I never really gave it much thought. Just another chamber-of-commerce slogan to welome tourists. Yawn. Lo que sea (whatever). A bit like U.S. towns annointing themselves the "Cucumber Capital of the World" or "The Place Where Teddy Roosevelt Went to Middle School."
And I live and work in the "Port of Magic." Right. OK.
And for about 10 months of the year, we are myopically focused on running our fishing business and restaurant 24/7. Boats in and out. Clients and amigos coming and going. Flights to catch and meet. Luggage and fishing gear hauled and carried. Fish to be packed and frozen.
We're out of salsa. The pork ribs didn't arrive. There's a busted toilet. The beer truck only brought half our order. The drummer in the band is sick. Two TV's are don't work and we have a full house for football games.
Did I just hear a bunch of glasses shatter? What do you mean we have no tortillas tonite? Which panga just broke down? Your buddy just heatstroked and needs a doctor? No, I don't know where you put your passport! I don't know why the bait is so small this year. Yes, it's OK to drink the water.
It's crazy. It's hectic. We're little gerbils on a treadmill. We love our lives and are immeasurably blessed. But, after months with zero days off, we're human.
We bump into walls. We growl at each other. Patience is thin. Sometimes our smiles aren't as ready or as genuine as we would like. How many times can I answer, "Where are the tuna?" or "So, how come the captains don't speak English?"
But every now and then the cosmos send down a message that gives us pause to remember where we are and what we really do.
It happened just this week. Rick was on his 2nd trip in two years with us here at Tailhunters. He's a fireman. He pulled me aside one evening at the restaurant. He grabbed my hand in his big paw, shook it and gave me a big brotherly-bear hug.
"Hey man, I just want to thank you for having me here," he said sincerely.
"Oh sure, glad you're having a good time!" I replied somewhat generically. I was kind of in a hurry and didn't really have a long time to chat. The restaurant was filling up and I was expecting a big load of arrivals from the airport. My anxiety was a little piqued.
"No, Jonathan, I really appreciate being here with you and Jill," he replied a bit quietly. He wouldn't let go of my hand. "This place stitches my soul."
Pause. He looked at me eye-to-eye. It slowed me down. "Stitches my soul?"
"I'm a fireman. I see a lot of things. For a few days a year, being here in Baja helps put my soul back together. For a few days on a boat and with my friends, it helps me make sense of things again. When, I'm fishing my reality is simplified down to a bit of nylon string and a bit of bait. Things start to make sense again. It's my happy place. It helps me do what I do the rest of the year. Thanks, man."
With that, he gave me another bear hug and let go of my hand. He grinned and went upstairs to join the rest of his amigos already into their beers.
I stood there in my own moment.
Stiches my soul. A place where things make sense again. His happy space.
It's good to remember that this isn't just about how many fish you catch. It's not about "just a vacation."
There's often a bigger picture here. I have to remind myself that we're especially blessed to be part of it. It's indeed a magic place and a magic space through which we pass. Vamos al Puerto de Illusion! Find your happy place, amigos.
That's my story
Jonathan
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