A smallish -- but ravenous, tough and fast -- jack Crevalle on a Sayulita beach just before release.
I'm getting ready for a trip to Sayulita, Mexico, and it looks like I'm bringing more fishing tackle than clothes.
A few pairs of surfing shorts, T-shirts and a sweatshirt work just fine for a few days of fishing and surfing, but bringing enough tackle is tough.
I'm bringing two fly rods and two spinning rods -- plus boxes of popping bugs, streamer flies and lures. I'm also hauling along spools of line, leader material, wire bite tippets -- some toothy critters swim around down there -- and tons of other stuff.
My duffle is jammed -- and it clanks and rattles like a beater car.
Why am I bringing so much? Well, the shore -- and inshore boat fishing -- in Mexico is world-class, and it's entirely possible to lose most of your tackle to big fish. I've been spooled when I hooked up to roosterfish or big jack Crevalle from the beach.
I'm usually a fly angler -- which brings patronizing smiles to the faces of the the pragmatic Mexican fishermen, who often use monofilament line wrapped around a board, a rusty hook and a spark-plug weight to hook and land beefy fish. But I can't help casting a 9-weight fly rod on days when the surf is small and the wind gentle. Nothing beats standing in warm wave wash -- with your feet sinking into gritty sand -- and casting a fly rod popper to jacks or roosterfish pounding baitfish in the shoreline shallows. The fish wallop the chugging, gurgling fly, snatch that fly line out of your hand and then rocket off on long, reel-chattering runs.
The locals -- the same guys who were laughing at my fly rod a few minutes before -- whoop when they see this spectacle. Never mind that I usually lose the big fish -- it's the boiling take and sizzling run that set my heart thumping.
I've jammed about 100 poppers, Clouser Minnows, Lefty's Deceivers and other saltwater flies into a plastic box. I wish I could bring 100 more, but I'm flirting with the airline's baggage weight limit. I'm already paying $25 -- each way -- just to put the bag on the plane, and I don't want to give those cowboys any more money.
Saltwater poppers, streamers and Clouser Minnows fill my fly box before a trip to Mexico.
But paying a little money is worth having the right fly.
Even a small jack Crevalle, sierra mackerel or snapper is fun on a fly rod. If I'm lucky, I'll never pick up the spinning gear at all. But I've learned to never depend on luck in Mexico.
On plenty of days, big surf and heavy winds will make casting a fly rod more work than fun -- or downright impossible. That's when I bring out the spinning rod -- the locals nod their heads with approval -- tie on a Krocodile spoon and fire long casts out into the surf.
I'd rather fish a spinning rod and hook fish than sit on the beach holding a fly rod that just can't handle the weather. I know there are fly anglers who can effortlessly cast a fly line in shrieking ocean winds, but I'm not one of them.
That's why I went to the store yesterday and bought 10 Krocodile spoons. I may go back this weekend and buy a few more.
The Krocodile spoon -- a gleaming, heavy-metal lure that's been around for decades -- tempts almost all big, aggressive saltwater fish. The lure moves through the water with a flashy, swivel-hipped action, and it seduces so many fish. Most Krocodiles are thick, chrome-plated chunks of metal that look as though they were stamped out of the massive bumper of a 1955 Buick.
A jumble of Krocodile lures -- this fly angler's last resort when wind blow fly rods -- and lines -- away.
Krocodiles were my favorite saltwater lure during my fish-addled Southern California childhood. I loved to ride the party boats in those days, and casting a half-ounce Krocodile near boiling bonito, calico bass, barracuda or yellowtail was my secret weapon. I'd let the lure sink -- fluttering like a wounded anchovy or sardine -- and, suddenly, line would start ripping off my reel.
I've hooked small yellowfin tuna, dorado, wahoo, amberjack, roosterfish, barracuda, little tunny, rainbow runners and many other fish while casting a Krocodile well offshore. Fishing guides in Mexico and Central America motor offshore and look for floating debris, such as driftwood, wood pallets or even dead whales. These tiny islands of shade attract baitfish -- and dozens of big, fast gamefish circle around the area all day long. Dorado love the shade of a floating tree trunk or patch of kelp, and there may be dozens of them stacked up in that little patch of dark water.
Pacific Coast Mexicans are among the world's best anglers -- they eat their catch almost every day -- and they treasure their collections of Krocodiles. During my last trip to Sayulita, nice jack Crevalle pounded baitfish right off the beach every evening, and the local anglers were chucking fish-battered Krocodiles into the frothing mass of raging fish.
The head-high surf was too high for fly casting -- the waves push around a thick flyline into a pretzel and make it almost impossible to retrieve a streamer or popper. But the thin monofilament line spooled onto a spinning reel slices through the waves and gives you control of the lure.
You can see that Krocodile wiggling right through the face of a wave, and I've often seen jacks, snappers and roosterfish chase the lure right into wave. It's like watching a fish strike a lure in an aquarium.
I've never been on a Mexican beach that didn't swarm with fun fish -- even the beaches in downtown Mazatlan's Zona Dorado. The fish roam just past the breaking waves -- and will chase baitfish right through the whitewater and up onto dry sand.
Anglers cast their lines where they see fish breaking the surface, but blind casting around rocks -- especially the bony-looking headlands that jut out into the ocean -- reefs and dropoffs. The fish are usually there -- and usually ready to eat.
I'm also bringing along the spinning gear for my partner Heather, who adores flinging Krocodiles into the surf and hooking fish. This is a multi-family trip, and four kids of various ages will be along. Light spinning tackle is easy to use -- and those young anglers will have a blast with the shore fishing.
But those kids better be ready to share, as I will want my turn with the spinning tackle -- and a shining silver Krocodile -- if wind and waves ground my fancy fly rods.
My duffle bag will be much lighter -- and quieter -- when it's time to leave the sand, surf and sun of Sayulita. These fish are tough and fast and hard -- and that means lost lures and flies. But that's OK. Fishing tackle is expensive and hard to find in Mexico -- which is another reason why I bring so much along.
And that's why I leave the lures, line and flies that survived the fish, rocks and reefs behind for my local friends who fish the beaches and rocky headlands every day.
