Sven's Spearo De Mayo!!!

Stay tuned as DB's Sultan of Smooth is back and breathing up for a trip down in Baja for Cinco de Mayo, Yellowtail, Dorado, Pargo, Cabrilla and that Striped Marlin that dared me last year. :head

I have seen Jesus, and he's standing next me. rofl

More as soon as I wade through the mail.

Getting there from here

It's been a bear of a year now that I've been off and gone. A couple trophy cases of CNS/DCS, and the usual drama that goes with being me aside, I needed to get outta the digs and remember what it's like to be taken care of in a big way. Answer: Palapas Ventana.

I had gone there for the first time last year and chronicled my exploits here. I recalled feeling about as far from anywhere inside my noggin as I'd ever been, and got a tan and some fish doing it.

Called up amigo and jefe of the place, Tim Hatler and it was a done deal. A casual few hours on the plane from here where the spoils are in the soils, over the arm pit that is Los Angeles and across the brown plains of Baja and I was looking at a blue that Crayola wishes they could replicate. A couple of "Holas" later and I was off in the rentawreck through, over and around the circus that is driving in Mexico. (Editor's side note- if there's a four way stop, Sven will go the fifth...)

Forty minutes, four wrong turns and a wave at the pretty senorita at the stop sign later, I was back in the comfy cactus boundries of La Ventana, now widely regarded as the place to be if you windsurf and kitesurf. As I do neither, I drove up the road past the wonderful and discomforting roadside shrines and gazed across the 9 mile stretch of the Gulf of California to Isla Cerralvo while my trigger finger itched.

Karon, aka "Mom" to Tim and any stray such as yours smoothly, burst out of her place and let me know in no uncertain terms that it'd been too long since last we laughed, and directed me to the casita for the duration of my stay. Not plush, not sparse, just perfect. As we all know based on my experiences there in the past, my expertise in the art of sacking out in a hammock whilst the sun goes down paid big rewards...

bgill said:

WHERES MY T-SHIRT & COFFEE MUG?!!!!

Click to expand...

That's a minor reason I haven't been around, fielding all the complaints by the masses over management dropping the ball. :head

Send a PM to Stephan Whelan with the particulars and mention this to him. :blackeye

...and as so often happens, the Sun came up the next morning. Morning held the promise of a smooth ride out to the Isle replete with it's venues of pescatorial splendour and, NOT BEFORE MY COFFEE!!! :naughty

Breakfast courtesy of Mari's comida mas fina was all I remembered. Fresh, made to my liking and if I didn't like it, tough shit! She's a babe in every degree.

Tim's newest addition to the staff was Eric, an old friend and co-worker from bygone days doing the tall ship thing, Catalina and transvestite lounges. He lugged my gear into the waiting and warmed-up panga, no small feat seeing as how I brought along the usual 60" Wong Magnum Hybrid meateater sans reel but also a brand new as of the day before SeaSniper Pargo Pounder- 60" of some of the best work to splash the salt water. That and 6 kg of lead to get my senior citizen ass down.:crutch

Aboard the panga was old amigo and fellow sober human being, Captain Jesus, aka Nono. He would later be known by this white boy as Captain Fathom, butt more on that later.:head

Off to the norte end of Isla Cerralvo to La Reina where the yellowtail had been seen, speared and sauted. Nada. Off to a super secret location called Bajo Nono. Now here, Eric and I being old salts and smarter than your average turista, decided that the deep drops earlier necessitated that we do a couple exploratory dives, less luggage to see wazzhappenin. I question Captain Jesus about the depth to which he replied in essence, "Don't worry about it.":hmm

So yours smoothly leaves the means of defense on la barca and drops. And drops. And drops some more. Being a grad of Kirk and Mandy's school of not needing air for a while, I was getting a tad concerned, but went down some more.

By this time I'm thinking, "Jesus!", and I'm not talking about the clown above me in the boat. Finally I level out above the bottom and take a look at the D3 and see well past 80' on the dial. Like around 20' past it. This is where that 6kg of lead comes into play- getting it and the 94kg of me back up to El Sol. I put the C-4's into drive and just waited for the sparkles while I twisted around to see what was what, figuring that if I black out, at least I'll have seen the sights.

And right next to me at 70' two healthy and fed jurels, as in Yellowtail, as in Hamachi are looking at me, no doubt taking bets if I'm going to make it. So being the sashimi kind of guy I am, I raised my gun and... waitaminute! Mi pistole es en la barca!!:t ?Yo quero pendejo?:mute So remember children, bring the armament regardless.

Back on the SS Jesus, I politely as I could, seeing as I was busy doing hook breaths, what the depth was aqui. Captain said something about 15. "FIFTEEN WHAT?? FATHOMES??"

"Si."

:hungover

And so began a long to be continued reference of Captain Jesus, aka Nono, as Captain Fathom. As I explained via my meter long appendage, this was a metro, both appendages-dis is a fathome.

"Si."

Yes, I seem to be called Sven a lot, more than likely because IT'S MY NAME!!!:hmm

I was at Tim Hatler's place. Now I'm home in No Cal.

Yeah, there is good diving there off the Giggling Marlin for smaller cabrilla and triggers.

More that day...

So with the explanations of distance and depth over with, I dropped again to the South where the bottom was slightly further from China and made out the outline of a fair sized cabrilla off in the haze. Going into my steathiest "I'll swim over there while pointing at it" mode, sure enough it followed and at 12 or so feet from me, I thought I'd see if the SeaSniper bazooka was worth the pesos. Without going into too much detail, yeah it is worth it. The spear had zero fall over the 12 feet and put a 3/8 shaft exactly where I pointed it, no having to account for distance. And all with one hand. Smoooth.

After that and nothing more, we headed South and alongside La Reinita, a small rock by No Cal standards but with a bunch of fish on it. Except now. :head I got absolutely schooled by a wall of bonita but other than that, no grouper grunts, no cabrilla, Stripped marlin, wahoo, dorado...zip. Hmm.

At this point my newly cut-on sinuses were doing great but my arse was feeling it, in spite of marathons on the stairmaster back home, so I pulled Eric's limp carcass into the boat, told Jesus to hit it and we adjourned to the casita for some hammock lessons. I excelled.:king

The next morning I reflcted on things and decided to pull off the safetys and bloody the boat. Just like I did the day before, but this time successfully. We headed to the North again and around to an area new to Eric but that looked muy roca and clean. I splashed and saw a decent sized pargo book it into a underhang while loading up the Wong. Not moving my steely gaze from the rock I dove and there it was. Went back up, unloaded one band to keep the rocks behind the fish dent-free and dove again. One shot to the noggin and the stink was gone from the boat and the rest of the trip would be gravy. The eel that followed the pargo out will get over having my fist deposited on it's snout.

South to a favorite place of mine where the ghostly shapes of the Pargo and Amberjack swerve in and out of the shelf filled bottom. And there they were! Damn spooky things. These table top bottoms at 50-60 ft are just the best for dropping onto and appealing to the fish's curiousity. Bless the PFI clinic for changing my style from suck it in and kick, to roll over and free fall.

I shot at several and landed another and saw the outline of a trophy pez fuerte or AJ or amberjack off in the haze, but they don't get that big being curious or stooopid. That just works for me. I will allow for one thing and offer it to the masses here. Having a 60" log cannon alongside your body, in a 72" overhang- just because the tip is pointed at 50+ pounds of Dog snapper, doesn't mean the rest of the gun is lined up. The coral behind the fish now in another zip code, will grow back. The tip is in question...:blackeye