Sushi Time (2014)

Yesterday, I had asked our tour guide Hasam to recommend a fishing boat. He suggested Sushitime. Their online reviews have them at #3 in Trip Adviser (Aside: I'm hearing a lot more of these guides putting pressure on customers to write reviews on Trip Adviser. Like any measurement tool, I take it with a grain of salt.)

It was $150 for five hours of fishing, a license, a bagged lunch, water & a couple of beers. Hell for $30/hour, how can you go wrong.

Their boats are pangas, open, small and agile.

I signed up for a share. I awoke at 5:15am to meet the boat at the docks by 6:15. The docks were on the furthest part of the marina from my condo and I couldn't count on finding a taxi at that hour. I was a little scittish about the walk, it still pitch black. As I walked past the strip clubs there were still music playing some people outside. The light was just starting to glow in the east when I made it to the docks, which were busy with action. Guys wheeled carts, as they called out to each other, many with cups of coffee in their hands, slapping each other on their backs, laughing and, from what I surmised, the typical teasing when a group of men work together day after day. 

Jorge was my captain. We were on the water by 6:30, the sun still not in the sky, but the light enough for photos.

(this was taken on our way back in)

We stopped first at a jetty to hand in what I presumed to be my license to officious men in tan uniforms. It was a clusterfuck of boats, big and small, trying to get out on the water quickly. Remarkably there were no collisions, but a few close calls. After we clear the rock jetty that demarcates the harbor, there's another swarm of boats looking to get bait. After a few stalled attempts, Jorge collects ours, dumps it in the holding tank and off we go. 

Before we rounded the Arch, a group of rocks that delineate the Pacific from the Sea of Cortez, Jorge threw out three of the lines with lures. After we make the turn, two of the reels start buzzing. Fish on!

I grab one, Jorge grabs the one not buzzing, to get it out of the way. I reel furiously. It's not that big a fish I can tell, but it's an awkward movement and my forearms start to burn. Luckily the line wasn't out long, and when we can see a flash of silver Jorge takes over and grabs the lead and then the fish. It's a Skip Jack After he unhooks it and throws it in the cooler I reach for the other buzzing reel and rod. This time the line is out much longer. My forearm crams. Jorge tells me to pull up and reel on the down. This helps.  After a couple minutes we boat this one too. Both are about 16 inches. They don't weigh much, maybe a few pounds each. 

Both of us are both hyped by the early results. Within fifteen minutes of Jorge resetting the lines, he yells "Dorado" before the reels starts buzzing. I grab the rod from the gunwale, and begin to reel furiously. I look up and see it out of the water, heading toward us, its green and its forehead is bulbous, but in mid air, it throws the hook. Jorge curses. I'm a bit dumbfounded and confused. It all happens quickly. 

Not much is said, mostly because there isn't much common language between us-although his English is better than my Spanish. We are heading west, my seat faces east and once the sun clears the clouds parked at the horizon, it heats up quickly. There are a few boats, other pangas, some large cabin cruisers to the left and right of us, a search line of sorts. We're less than a mile from shore which is to our right. After we cleared the Arch, there was a smattering of development, but further north there is little, just arid land reaching the shore, an occasional house or resort. 

Within a half hour or so we, at the same time, see a spot of water churn and then a dorsel fin of a marlin, blue and colorful. I see the small, round bait fish circle in an attempt to flee, but the marlin circles. At one point his whole head is out of the water, its long spear sparkles in the sun. It was an amazing sight. Jorge acts quickly and heads for the churning water. He simultaneously grabs an unused rod and baits a hook with one of the live baits we brought. With an amazing cast he avoids the four lines already trailing behind us and drops our baited hook right in the middle of the swirl. He says something about it being the wrong bait and I can see that our bait is torpedo like, and the fish in the water are a rounder sort. He tries a few attempts, but soon the bubbling water subsides. "Profundo", Jorge says. It has gone deep. It was a sight to behold though; I am not as disappointed as losing the dorado. 

Ant that was it in terms of fishing. For two and a half hours we travel north, then turn. We swap out the lures for the live bait and slow the boat to a crawl.  The heat only intensifies as does the rocking of the boat. I had only eaten a half of muffin before I left the condo, and had drank only a bottle of water. I feel the effects of the day and I struggle to get comfortable.

"Lunch?" Jorge asks. "No, I'm good", I reply. He unwraps his. Some tortillas and a fish stew of sorts. 

I go up front where my bagged lunch is. An apples, some snacks, a sandwich and what looks like a taco. I grab the apple and munch on it in hopes it soothes my roiling stomach. 

There are few words between us. Just the rocking of the boat, the blazing sun, cackle of the radio that Jorge occasionally gabs into. Once in a while we see a turtle here and there. After an hour of the slow speed, live bait attempt, we switch to lures and I am thankful. Jorge creates a hybrid using one of the live bait and a lure, expertly gutting, placing the hook inside the cavity, then sewing the fish together again. Alas it does nothing. I am amazed at the deep, deep blue of the water, especially when the sun is behind me and the beams reach deep like lasers into the sea. 

We make a zigzag course north. Jorge chatters on the radio. I go in and out of feeling shitty, then half bad. At 11 we are near the Arch. We both decided to call it quits. The sun is high in the bright, blue sky. The waves crash high agains the rocks and create a rich, white spray that contrasts pleasantly. 

All in all, a good day even if it wasn't fruitful. 

I return to the condo for a quick nap, eat some left over pizza, and read by the pool. I head into town to get some money out of the ATM and walk around a bit. I stop by a taxi stand to get a price to get me to the airport. $75. I decide