San Carlos Mothership Trip Pt.2: San Pedro Island

[dgax65]

When we left our merry band of fishermen they were sleeping soundly aboard the El Duque in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. They were enjoying the restful slumber know only to those who are rocked to sleep by the gentle hand of the ocean....oh yeah, drunks also sleep like this. Lots of snoring. I woke to a beautiful sky painted in subtle blues and oranges by the rising sun. Took a piss and crawled back in my sleeping bag. I was tired. The next time I woke up we were anchored up in the lee of San Pedro de Nolasco, a small island off the coast of Sonora.



Typical of the islands throughout the Sea of Cortez and Baja, San Pedro has a certain rugged beauty to it. Whitewashed with guano, it rises almost vertically out of the water. The water's edge is pocked with caves and blowholes. The only green to be found was at the top of the ridge that ran the length of the island. The upper reaches of the island are covered with a hearty grass and seemingly out of place saguaro-like cactus.



The sheer rock walls continued down below the surface, with depths of 40-50 feet found just yards away from the shore in some places.



Kayaks were already in the water and the rest of the guys were rigged up and getting ready to fish. Not being a morning person it took me a little longer to get all my gear sorted out By the time I got on my yak the early risers were already exploring the area's fishing possibilities. There were probably twenty private boats fishing our side of the island in about 150-230 feet of water. Our lack of live bait was going to make things difficult. Many of us took dead mullet to chunk.



As the morning progressed, the yak fleet dispersed to try various methods to get the fish to bite. Chunk bait, squid, trolled lures, yo-yos and butterfly jigs; all were tried. The bite was slow throughout the morning. The PBs were in deeper water jigging and trolling with about the same results. An occasional bendo rod was seen, but they were few and far between.



At the end of a less than productive morning, most were ready to head back to the El Duque for lunch. Since I got such a late start I chose to stay out and do a little exploring. I paddled around the island and ran into Kurt, who was having a little more luck than I. Actually, I think it was more about the large disparity in skill level. Kurt had already caught and released several cabrilla and gold spotted bass.



Every time I crossed paths with Kurt he seemed to be hooked up. He was a steady producer throughout the trip. It's always the quite ones. No bragging; just one fish after another.



Several guys got some diving in after lunch. Seamus had been free diving in the morning and got all of us hopeful with reports of big pargo in our cove.



Having the dive gear aboard added another dimension to the trip. The divers were able to verify that we were sitting on top of a lot of big fish. That kept the hope alive even with the slow bite. Knowing that there were some big ones down there kept me tossing the iron and doing that stupid butterfly jigging (its been a week and my arm is still sore) long after I would normally have quit. Seamus would come up and say that he had seen large pargo or yellow tail in a certain area and we would rush over there trying every technique imaginable to get their interest. The fish that Seamus had speared also got the adrenaline flowing. He brought aboard several good sized pargo and cabrilla. As the fishing continued to be slow, the divers were able to break up the long, slow day with forays below the surface. Chris, Mike, Todd and Brent all got some dive time in. Seamus spent what seemed to be the majority of the day in the water.



Later in the afternoon the bite picked up. Squid strips were the key. After the private boats took off, most of us headed out to fish a ridge line that they had been congregating on. Cabrilla, yellow snapper, trigger fish, sculpin and other bottom fish were all taking the squid.



Brent was hardly able to control his excitement when he got a nice Pacific creole fish



I was having no luck trolling so I decided to try the squid. I paddled around in vain for a half hour trying to find an 80' high spot that everybody else had successfully fished. I couldn't find it, but all that paddling put me several hundred yards north of the rest of the fleet. As the sun was getting low, I spotted some birds working the bait about a half mile away. I had chased the birds a number of time already, to no avail. They would either move away or disperse before I could catch up.The birds always seemed to be diving on very small bait that was a little below the surface. To that point, I hadn't seen any real boils on the surface. This time was different. In the flat calm water I could see the fish breaking the surface; the golden, late afternoon sun reflecting off the splashing water. This was make or break time for me. I hadn't caught a thing to this point and the skunk was really starting to smell up my little corner of the ocean. I made a frantic call on the radio and started paddling toward the birds. I soon got my massively overloaded X-Factor up to flank speed. I was in true Magnum P.I. paddling form; sprinting after the birds. I looked back to see the rest of the fleet pulling in lines and coming up to speed. It reminded me of a squadron of destroyers steaming into harm's way. This sprint was turning into a marathon. The fish were boiling along a front about fifty yards wide, moving rapidly away from me. By the time I got close my arms were burning. The fish were just out of casting range and I started to think that I wasn't going to be able to catch up. Just as I start feeling the first twinges of cramps in my arms, the bait ball takes a hard turn towards the island. I'm able to cut the corner and get within casting range as they turn away again. I can now see the green backs of yellow tail breaking the surface as they attack the bait. I grab the rod off my lap and toss a gold Spanyid Maniac spoon. ARRRHHHHH!!!! OK; I wasn't expecting the lure to take off at a ninety degree angle to the direction that I wanted it to go. I frantically retrieve the lure and make another cast toward the rapidly departing fish. This time I placed the lure just beyond the boil. Two cranks and I'm on. I was so amped up by the chase I didn't realize just how tight I had the drag. The YT went under the yak, heading south, and I almost followed it under. It circled back and as it came up on the port side I bounced it onto the yak. Not big, but fun for the first fish of the day. I put a leg over it to keep it from jumping back out. No chance of that happening; the treble had one hook in the fish, one in my dry pants and one in the back of my leg.



I got things straightened out and went after the birds again. No more luck. We had a line abreast that covered hundreds of yards and we trolled all around this side of the island until the sun started to set.



The boat started calling us back. We had a long trip over to Tortuga and they wanted to get the kayaks loaded before it got dark.



I got back aboard and hit the rack within a half hour. I guess they had a pretty good dinner with all of the fish that were caught. Three hours of sleep over two days finally caught up to me. I was knocked out until we got to Tortuga later that night. Our adventure was just getting started.....