Fishermen Find Idea of Heaven : Sea of Cortez Yields Great Catches and Harbors a Few of Its Secrets

Charlie St. Clair didn’t know what to expect on his recent fishing trip to Baja California’s Sea of Cortez, and having never fished in the ocean before, he certainly couldn’t have anticipated that the fight of a lifetime was close at hand.

The wind had blown hard for two days, during which mostly small cabrilla and yellowtail were caught--good solid fishing by most standards, and St. Clair thought he had therefore captured the essence of salt water fishing.

“I figured it (the rest of the trip) would be like we had been doing,” he said. “I had heard stories, but . . . “

But to hook into a big fish of his own, he said, “is something I’ve always dreamed of.”

There St. Clair sat, enjoying his 46th birthday rocking gently under the sun, catching pargo and small sharks along with the rest of the fishermen on this week-long trip to the midriff island region on the east side of the Baja peninsula.

Suddenly his line went tight, then it began to pull from the reel ever faster. “It just grabbed the bait and took off,” St. Clair said. The fish was most likely a giant sea bass, according to a guide.

“I tightened the brake a bit, and then it started to pull the boat,” St. Clair said.

St. Clair and three others aboard the 22-foot panga--a small open motor boat--were taken in tow by the fish, estimated at well over 100 pounds, before it plunged downward and into the shelter of the rocky bottom, “damn near pulling me into the water,” St. Clair said.

But the Orange County resident regained his balance and pulled up as hard as he could on his stout rod and moderate-sized reel spooled with 50-pound test line. The panga leaned precariously to one side, the pole was bent nearly in two.

The guide circled the spot where the fish made its dive, and it emerged from the rocks, darting off quicker than before, again towing the boat, this time quickly past a host of other pangas, which began to rock on the wake created on the glassy sea as St. Clair zoomed by.

“I was hurting and getting tired and my arms were just burning,” he said.

In need of a rest, St. Clair handed the rod over to Steve Crawford, 19, who was on his fifth fishing trip to these waters.

Crawford tried to get a handle on the fish, but it was too strong.

“I could feel him going from under one rock to another,” Crawford said.

Said Mark DeFevere, also on the boat: “It was going wherever it wanted to, period.”

The fish, whatever it was, certainly had no intention of surfacing and made one more burst into the rocks, this time breaking the line, which, by then, was frayed.

“Well, we figured it towed us about a block-and-a-half,” St. Clair said, nevertheless excited about his lengthy struggle. “We must have fought it for a good hour.”

And so his story goes.

Most of the passengers who boarded the two old shrimp boats in San Felipe’s small marina in late April to kick off Baja Fishing Tour’s 13th season of week-long fishing trips by heading south to the the midriff islands knew they would be catching plenty of fish.

Forget the fact that the fleet’s two 85-foot commercial fishing boats, made to accommodate sport fishermen by the San Diego-based company, were built in the 1960s, with canopy-surrounded open-air bunks (a necessity in the hot summer months) topside riding high above sea level.

Forget also the fact that there was no hot water, no rod holders or pads on the pangas, or even a crew member that spoke English. “This ain’t no Hilton,” said one passenger aboard the Santa Monica, the oldest of the two. “This is hard-core, all right,” said another.

But given the price--$525, which includes a week’s fishing, food, beverages and a personal guide--there were no major complaints. With comfortable bunks, four modern bathrooms and two showers (minus hot water), excellent food and plenty of shade, such minor inconveniences were gladly accepted.

“We heard they had rubber boats and that you sleep in the sun and we still wanted to come,” St. Clair said.

After all, the 700-mile Sea of Cortez, also known as the Gulf of California, is considered “the world’s greatest fish trap.” And these fishermen were en route to where the uprushing of the cold water--the result of the pressure of the incoming tides of the Pacific--and the downpouring of the waters of the Colorado River makes for what experts call the most ideal conditions in the world.

The abundant sea life became apparent immediately upon leaving the small marina, where hundreds of small brown rays jumped and darted in the blue-green water beneath the boat in a playful display that lasted nearly 20 minutes.

Colorful mesas, plateaus and jumbled hills mixed with the many eroded canyons along the leeward shores of the Baja Peninsula, providing a scenic backdrop for the tiny fishing villages that dot the gulf coast’s sandy beaches.

Further south, fish were breaking the surface and whales and porpoises played in the distance. Sea lions sunned themselves seemingly without a care.

The 15 passengers aboard the Santa Monica--including three women and two first-time fishermen--ate ham and cheese sandwiches, conversed and got their gear in order as the sun began to set behind them. Proper gear for a trip of this sort includes at least three rods of various thickness (with reels to match), a number of lures (Rapalas and 6-inch irons work best) and various sizes of hooks and weights.

Dusk turned to dark and most of the passengers made their way into the galley, where some traded knot-tying techniques and talked of things to come before venturing upstairs expecting a good night’s sleep.

But the wind came up, and picked up velocity during the night, tearing at the protecting canopy. Some found it better to abandon their bunks for better shelter offered on the hard floor behind the upper bow rail.

The “poor man’s long-range fishing trip” was under way.

The wind was still blowing when the boat came to an early morning rest in a shelter along the shore of Partida Island, in a small harbor formed many years ago by tides and currents that ate a hole through one side of a once-active and partially submerged volcanic cone.

The pangas were lowered from the deck of the boat and into the choppy sea and the fishermen boarded three to a boat, each with its own guide.

Each panga, powered by a 40-horsepower outboard engine, went its separate way, sticking close to the shore along the island and nearby rocks, as the fishermen trolled Rapalas--an absolute must on this trip--and similar diving lures despite the wind whipping the sea into a frothy mess.

The pangas held up well, though, and it wasn’t long before the first fish were brought aboard. Cabrilla, a fish similar to the calico bass found in Southern California waters, were abundant and before long each angler had caught a number of fish in the 3- to 4-pound class.

These small cabrilla, though excellent table fare, offered little in the way of a fight, however, and most people soon became eager to hook into the bigger fish known to inhabit these waters: Grouper, yellowtail, pargo, larger cabrilla, and during the warmer summer months, yellowfin tuna, dorado and more yellowtail--all known to be in great abundance in these waters commonly referred to as “Yellowtail Alley.”

“I’ve seen the bite wide open down here lots of times,” said Crawford, a Vista resident in the fishing tackle business. “Usually there are yellowtail all over the place.”

But because of the wind, expectations of the more experienced fishermen would have to wait, as the boat remained nestled in what shelter it had found, the pangas too small to roam far enough away and the wind too strong to be conducive to good fishing anyway.

In customary fashion, the pangas returned to the “mother ship” for lunch. Be it rolled tacos and frijoles or ceviche and enchiladas and frijoles or Mexican-style chicken and frijoles, the food, which, according to Marge Hergenrider of Riverside, was “unlike any that could found in our Mexican restaurants,” was savored by most.

A couple of hours of relaxation, a short hike for some on the shores of Partida, where gulls’ nests and eggs carpet the small cliffs and rocky beaches, and it was time to venture out for the afternoon bite.

Same area, stronger winds, and plenty of cabrilla under 10 pounds were consistent the entire afternoon. The pangas returned at dusk and were unloaded promptly by the crew and the fish, with the exception of what was saved for dinner, were cleaned and loaded into the ice-filled hold below.

That night, stories of the day were told, some naturally exaggerated, as the wind blew unforgivingly, causing some concern among the passengers as to whether or not it would cease before the end of the trip.

The next day, Scott Thomas and fishing partner Mark Wallace abandoned the stormy ocean’s surface to observe the sea life from below. The bigger fish were there, apparently, but not biting, perhaps because of the effects of the lengthy winds.

“I’ve never seen so many different fish in one place before,” said Thomas, a resident of Hermosa Beach. “We saw a grouper that had to be a hundred pounds.”

That afternoon, following another successful cabrilla bite (which had by then become all-to-routine for most) the wind began to subside, and by mid-day it was calm enough for a 12-mile trip to La Raza Island, termed by early explorers as “the most changeable, most fickle, and most inconsistent of all the (midriff) islands.”

The fishing here was inconsistent as well, though some of the cabrilla ran a little heavier, but the scenery was spectacular as thousands of birds, resident and migratory, filled the sky, flying errantly in search of food or patiently fishing the island’s jagged coastline, their raucous cries and swooping dives warning the fishermen against intrusion.

“This is normally one of the better yellowtail spots,” said Rafael Sanchez, a San Felipe-born guide with 15 years experience in the midriff islands. “I’ve seen lots of them over 30 pounds here.”

All that was caught, however, was more cabrilla, this time in the 3- to 5-pound range, with a few topping 10 pounds. Perhaps because of the long-lasting wind storm--it had been uncommonly windy for the two previous weeks as well--the fishing so far was slow by Sea of Cortez standards.

By nightfall, however, the wind had all but stopped and the next morning the ocean smoothed and mirrored the high clouds, sporting various shades of orange created by the rising sun.

The pangas had departed and would meet the mother ship later at nearby Snake Island. Conditions were finally perfect for fishing and most of the fishermen had gained a new-found optimism.

Two hours had passed with similar luck, however, until a disturbance was visible on the horizon. Birds were diving frantically into the water after the bait fish that were breaking the surface, an indication that there was game fish below.

One panga was already in the middle of the action when the other arrived. “They’re yellowtail!” Crawford yelled to the others while he was releasing one fish too small to keep.

Quickly, the fishermen dropped their small irons, then retrieved them as fast as they could--the faster the better. The excitement grew as the powerful fish moved in and out of range, voraciously feeding on the bait fish and occasionally hitting the iron jigs. Some pangas had double hookups and for the first time the action had become fast-paced.

About 20 yellowtail were landed in the first 20 minutes and many more were seen swimming just below the surface when, suddenly, the entire school mysteriously disappeared.

Across the large bay, between Snake and La Guarda islands, there were more birds feeding and more bait fish. Speeding pangas motored to the scene, where a similar picture developed. More yellowtail were caught, all less than 15 pounds, but the trip had taken a dramatic upswing.

“That was the greatest feeling yet,” said Richard Davis, a 66-year-old video producer from Newport Beach. “It even got to the point where I had had enough.”

As the day turned to dusk, all but two pangas had returned to the mother ship, still nestled against the shoreline. Snorkeling was superb and such species as trigger fish, cabrilla and opaleye swam near the rocky bottom in great schools.

On the shore of Snake Island, iguanas lived in the sparse green brush and bird nests dotted the coastline. Oysters and scallops were abundant in the tide pools. Nearby, in deeper water, one actually clamped onto a lure cast by Thomas, who reeled in the unlikely catch on hook-and-line. “I thought I was snagged on the bottom,” he said of the short struggle.

The sun was setting beautifully between the nearby islands and the two remaining groups of fishermen returned with additional catches of yellowtail and cabrilla.

Meanwhile, groups of yellowtail and large cabrilla could be seen jumping just out of range of the mother ship, amid conditions apparently perfect for a dusk-time feed. A few more fish were caught by those who could reach the jumping schools with a cast, before darkness killed the bite.

“Tomorrow should be great,” was the hopeful consensus among the passengers, now familiar with the boat, crew and surroundings. At night a bright light was set over the rail in order to attract bait for the next day.

Mackerel came into to the light instantly, feeding on the thousands of copepods (small shrimp-like creatures) that had congregated there as well, and were taken with ease by fishermen who stashed them away in their personal buckets.

Sleep came easy again as calm seas and prospective success loomed in the minds of the fishermen. Morning came, eggs, potatoes and cereal were hurriedly eaten while the panga guides stood ready and waiting, just one display of the crew’s efficiency.

Most of the pangas congregated about a mile from the mother ship, where they were joined for the first time by those from the Felipe Angeles, Baja Fishing Tour’s second boat that had previously been fishing elsewhere.

Most fishermen hooked fish within minutes of reaching the bottom, 150 feet below with pargo--a fairly strong reddish-colored bottom dweller--dominating the fishermen’s catches. Most of the fish were in the 10-pound class and some were bigger. A number of small sharks were caught as well, many of which sporting babies which spilled from the sharks’ bellies as they were cut open, and one actually gave birth to at least a dozen babies after being gaffed.

“This is a new job for me,” one of the guides said as he delivered the 12-inch babies to the sea where they swam downward and out of sight.

St. Clair’s birthday followed the less fortunate sharks’ and highlighted the day’s activities, which included more hiking, snorkeling ands diving from atop the Santa Monica.

During the night, skipper Guadelupe Aguilar Morales, a 20-year veteran of these waters, guided the Santa Monica north, where the final day would be spent fishing homeward-bound along the shores of the peninsula.

Coyotes roamed shores and buzzards flew high in the desert sky, scurrying into sheltered caves when the roars of the panga’s engines made them nervous.

The target fish was white sea bass, and though few were caught--they have diminished substantially over the years due to heavy commercial fishing--one of many species of bass which were plentiful, and fairly large--many weighed in excess of 10 pounds.

More than 200 were caught within a few hours by the Santa Monica’s 15 passengers, who returned to the mother ship in the early afternoon to prepare for the ride home.

Before nightfall the fish were sorted--each with a specific mark made by the guides--and filleted and stored into the various anglers’ coolers.

The wind kicked up stronger than before and the waves grew in size and by nightfall the heavy wooden craft was fighting along on its not-so-merry way, seemingly airborne at times as the passengers held on to their bunk rails for the remaining six-hours. The lights of San Felipe were a welcome sight as an unusual, yet successful, adventure drew to a close.

Most said they will be back, but probably a little later in the year when more fish and less winds are the norm. “In July and August is the best fishing,” Sanchez said. “We usually double the yellowtail bite. Sometimes there will be 100 caught on each panga.”

Said Gene German, a passenger from Riverside: “Where else could you go and catch this many fish?”

The answer, according to experts on the Sea of Cortez and experienced fishermen, is nowhere.