Bajapalooza 2004, A Kayak fishing Adventure
By John Roe, The Quietman
It
is the dead of winter here in Southern California and with the rockfish closures
in effect many anglers simply hang up the rods and wait for spring and the
return of the migratory game fish and revival of the inshore fishery. A few
hearty souls brave the winter wind and swell and cold to fish for halibut or to
pick away at the slow bass bite or even hit the fresh water for the
trout action.
But there are alternatives. A wonderful and rewarding fishing experience can be had, along with camping and sightseeing at a bargain price if you are willing and able to kayak fish in Baja.
For the past two years since the rockfish closures took
effect in California a group of intrepid kayak anglers have been making the trek
down to the quiet little fish-camp of
Puerto Santo Tomas. Led by Andy “The Ice Man” and staying at the “resort”
at PST they have been enjoying the fine rock fishing, great scenery and of
course the relaxed atmosphere of Baja.
I joined in the fun this year by driving down from my home in South Orange County to hook up with one of the groups going down together. Our caravan of nine vehicles met at a Denny’s in San Diego, with one person, Craig, coming all the way from San Francisco. We all drove as a group to the border, sailing through at about six am and proceeded without a stop until about halfway to Ensenada on the toll, or scenic, road.
We stopped at a turnout with a spectacular view and had two
more trucks with kayakers join us. Thus strengthened we rolled again as a
convoy and didn’t stop again until the turn off for PST, which is a dirt road
about 50 miles south of Ensenada. There several of us elected to go for
breakfast, and the rest including myself pressed on. The road was a typical
“good” Baja dirt road, flat and graded but with terrible washboard. On
washboard you have two choices, drive very slowly so as to not pound the vehicle
and gear to pieces, or travel a bit faster than you may like, to “fly” the road
with the wheels just touching the tops of the ridges. I chose the latter, and
so took out in the lead watching for the ubiquitous trucks loaded with tires
that seem so common in Mexico.
Eighteen miles later at the resort/camp I was met by the gentleman in charge and
he pointed out where he wanted us to park and camp. While figuring this out I
got to use my very rusty Spanish in earnest for the first time in years. I have
been fishing and camping like this in Baja since the early 1970’s, but had not
been down in the past ten years. I was very pleased to be back, especially
since at PST things haven’t changed as much as at other more accessible and
popular locations.
As the others arrived we each chose campsites and set up our tents and shelters. Of course as quickly as we could we also rigged up our kayaks to get out and fish right away!
By
the time I was ready to hit the water it was noon-ish and I was the first to
slide down the ramp and paddle out to test the fishing. I headed around the
small point and south, marveling at the sheer beauty of this place. Together
the clear water and the crisp edges to the unspoiled rocky coast reminded me of
Oregon or Northern California. Only here was added the picturesque scene of the
Pangas at anchor. I was completely at ease.
As
I paddled further I noticed a sandy beach and thought I would try my shallow
water halibut tactics that are so successful back home at Doheny. I moved in
and set up a drift and tossed out a red twin tail Mojo. Bang! Fish On! I
reeled in a mostly docile halibut that looked to go perhaps 15 pounds. But as I
unlimbered my gaff he simply opened his mouth and spit the jig then swam away.
Darn!
Of course after that first lucky cast I spent the next hour and a half flogging that cove for Nada, using every lure in my boxes. I next trolled out to the deeper kelp and “pot holed” an iron for two smallish Calicos and a Johnny Bass. With that I decided to head north across the mouth of our little cove and out to the main point. Out there the wind was pretty much howling, drifts were fast, but I quickly caught a very nice ling, at 28”, and put him on my game-clip. I also caught a couple nice reds, and then it happened…
I was yo-yoing a 4 oz mega-bait with a tag of squid, when I had a great hit and brought up another slightly smaller ling. As I went to put this ling on the clip with the rest, I unhooked the clip and maneuvered the ling to slide on. Just then my “dead-sticked” second rod snagged or was hit, and looked to pull out of the rocket tube. I grabbed for that rod letting go of the second ling. With a thrash and a flip that ling was over the side. I lunged with the rod in one hand and the first ling and game clip in the other to stop him, and the first ling took the chance to violently shake and twist out of my hand as well. He pulled off the end of the open clip, leaving me with the rod and the cod, but no more lings!
I figured no biggie, I didn’t lose any gear, and as it
turned out those fish were not the last or the largest to be lost by myself and
others by the end of the trip. By Sunday nearly all of us had several
heartbreaking tales of fishing woe to share over a drink back in camp. Great
war stories of unstoppable fish on heavy tackle, getting rocked, etc…
As the wind continued to pick up I regretted leaving my drift chute in camp, along with my Gore-Tex paddle jacket. I soon decided to call it a day and paddled in. Back at the launch ramp other kayakers were also returning and the local fishermen were quick to lend a hand landing in the surge. They really were helpful all weekend especially as the surf built each day. No sooner would a yak hit the sand than they would rush over and grab and pull and lift it up away from the waves to safety. I got the feeling that they felt a kinship with us. I certainly do with them and their lifestyle dependent on the sea.
Up in camp the lanterns were soon lit and in Avery and Toby’s camp a giant
“Cajun Turkey” propane deep fryer was roaring to life. The battered and chunked
rockfish fillets, fresh from the sea were tossed in and deep fried to a crispy
golden brown. There was plenty for any who wanted them and I made fish tacos
with my share using salsa and tortillas I had brought, then sat down looking
straight out at the ocean and opened a beer. We ate and chatted and squeezed
limes and traded brews. Perfect.
More kayakers arrived after dark, and there was plenty of rum, talk, visiting and standing around for the next few hours. I finally turned in under the full moon about eleven, listening to the surf and able to look between my feet right out onto the water.
Saturday morning came and while some launched by 8 am or earlier I was content with making a leisurely morning of it. Only after cooking up a hearty breakfast, coffee and a good clean-up was I ready to load the yak back up and fish some more. I bring a two gallon pressure sprayer, the kind used for bug spray and fertilizer, to rinse off all my gear after each use. It uses very little water and really is a great thing to have at the beach, but it is especially useful on a trip like this one.
I was on the water at 9am, and called on the VHF radio
to see what was happening. Some of the early launchers were paddling to the
tiny islands off shore, two miles from the coast line and three miles from our
launch. I decided to join them. Minutes later a report came back from one,
Eagle Eye I think, that he had caught a 9 pound Bonito trolling an orange and
gold Rebel Fastrac.
Just a few moments later and I was hooked up as well, with a bonito just ripping 12 pound test off my tiny Abu 6000, to the point that I followed the fish with the yak while winding line back on. After stopping to fight and a lengthy battle I gaffed a nice 9 pound Bonito and soon resumed trolling to the Islands.
At the islands we worked from depths of 200 feet to as shallow as 30 feet on a reef that extends south west from those rocks. There were many areas with drop offs, high spots etc. for us to drop jigs on and we did, zigzagging all over looking for productive bottom structure. A Yakker named Kurt picked up a 33 pound halibut on a squid-tipped iron in 200 feet, that ended up winning the days’ $100 jackpot. We all caught a mixed bag of rockfish and lings. Again several big fish were lost to the rocks or whatever, and one ling came up bitten in half by something!
Most of us were using the same class of tackle, 20-40 pound jig sticks with either great big scampi or other twin tail plastics on 3-6 oz lead heads, and/or irons of all shapes and sizes. Nearly everyone was tipping their hooks with squid pieces as well, and a few guys were using the classic rock-fish gang of hooks with squid strips. Several people brought whole shrimp to try for the big Sheepshead that are out there, but I don’t recall anyone catching any. Most of us also brought lighter outfits and trolled crank baits for the Bonito, and that turned out to be quite a bonus.
Just like the day before, the wind and the current became a big factor, and most of us out at the islands started back in pretty early, to be on the safe side. In the two miles between the islands and the coastline we encountered an abundance of life, with pods of porpoise working under birds, crashing bait here there and everywhere.
I also had porpoise flashing by under my yak and on all sides. Grey whales were with us as well, with one “tailing” near a kayaker, giving him quite a thrill. The Bonito were there with most of us catching at least one or two. Catching 10 pound class bonito from the yak is really a lot of fun!
During this time other kayakers continued to arrive and launch and join us on the water, including Andy the Iceman, our informal leader and organizer of this expedition. We all had a great day fishing, with some coming in for lunch and then going back out again, and others like myself staying out until the wind got to be a bit much, around 2 or 3 pm. As I paddled back into our launch cove I saw kayaks and kayakers seemingly everywhere, with most people busily cleaning their catches by the waters edge.
I went up and got a table and with a nice big board it was used by myself and others to clean some of the larger fish, like my 14 pound halibut I caught on a mega bait iron in 100 feet, and Kurt's 33 pound jackpot halibut which was also caught on an iron in nearly 200 feet of water.
As I was cleaning a Big Bonito, I tried some of the nicer fatty belly meat (toro) as some sea-side sashimi, and it was terrific. Three or four of us ended up chatting and cleaning while I cut slices off the bonito for us. I won’t ever go fishing down there again without bringing some wasabi and soy, but even without them the fresh Bonito was delicious.
Later up in camp we watched
one of the last guys on the water make
his way in from about a three-quarters of
a mile out, straight back into the 15-20 knot wind from near the tuna pens
anchored off-shore. It was the “Lifeguard guy”, Brian, and he had quite a
workout!
After everyone was back and new introductions were made, I counted the kayaks, 21 in all! Seven Fish N Dives, Four Scupper-Pros, Two Pro-Fisherman’s, and one each of eight other models of kayaks, quite a diverse group.
Our Saturday evening was even more sociable than
Friday’s, with a very large bonfire near the center of camp. Everyone shared
food and drink and stories, with Iceman and Avery playing a duet on the guitar
and fiddle. 
We were all pretty tired, and wanted to make the most of Sunday, man it seemed like Friday and Saturday just flew by! Just about everyone was in the sack by 9pm or so.
Sunday dawned and there was a definite change in the
air. The wind which had left us alone the past two days till the early
afternoon was already blowing, and from the south, 180 degrees from before.
There was a bank of thick fog sitting on the horizon to the south and west,
obviously headed our way. The surf and swell which had already been pretty
lumpy was also on the increase. A couple of guys decided to just rest up for
the drive home, while others launched early and headed for the islands
regardless. I launched once again at 9am, making sure I had my dry-top packed
and my drift chute with me. I had used the chute constantly Saturday afternoon,
and would need it immediately today.
As it turned out the wind continued to build, and most of us later launchers didn’t venture very far. The guys at the islands, two miles out, decided to wait until the fog was on us hoping the wind would lay down some. This did happen somewhat, and Sunday brought bigger Bonito, 11+ pounders, so most of us chose to troll for them instead of rock fishing.
I trolled most of the morning, getting two double hook-ups on the Rebel Fastracs and on the Frenzy. I had the hooks straighten out on both lures, and was reminded that it is pretty much a necessity to change the hooks on these lures as soon as you buy them! It was still a blast fighting those little tunas from the kayak, and we were all having a good time on them.
By noon most of the fog had pushed through and the
wind had died some, but for me it was time to get going. 
I landed, cleaned fish with some of the guys who had come in with one last load of
rock fish and packed up. I said my goodbyes to the kayakers still there, and started
rolling at 1:45pm.
Traffic was light and since I had brought two
Jerry-cans of gas with me I didn’t stop or get out of my car until back in the
States. It took me exactly 2 hours and 45 minutes to go from the camp to the
border, and an hour to get across. I had no hassles at all and enjoyed the
sights and scenery all the way home. Even the traffic from San Diego to my home
in Laguna Hills was light, and the checkpoint at San Onofre was wide open.
I definitely will be back down to Baja again very soon, especially since with my boat and fishing permits good for a year, it is otherwise very affordable to fish yak-style. The Resort Puerto Santo Tomas charges $5 US a night to camp, plus $1.50 US a day to launch at their ramp.
A big thanks to the "Ice Man", Andy, who made the reservations and sent out the open invitation. And a big thanks to all the great guys I got to fish with, and who shared stories, drinks and squid with me!
I am sure that next year will be even bigger and better,
and that the Mexican Rockfish will be there waiting...
I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed reading this little article, and that it has brought a smile to your heart either of remembrance of a great time or anticipation of things to come.
John Roe, the Quietman
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