Riding the Roosterfish Wave : Catching the Prized Game Fish From Beach Can Be a Wild Ride

Dell Primrose had fished for roosterfish before, but never “Pacific style,” from shore with a 12-foot surf rod, a stiff westerly wind blowing in his face and cool waves crashing at his feet.

But there he was, on a deserted stretch of beach north of town, with the locals who had taken him there, wet from the waist down, soaking a live mullet a few dozen yards from shore.

The strong wind not only created shifting peaks that crashed violently on the shore, but a bend in Primrose’s line that emerged from the surf, a monofilament half-circle, with each ebbing of the tidal surge.

Primrose, 28, a glass store employee from Santa Ana, and the others along on this adventure, stood at the waterline with high hopes, which diminished a little with each cast of the untouched one-pound mullet into the wind.

“It’s always like this,” said Rafael Covarrubias, 25, a lifelong Cabo San Lucas resident. “The wind and the waves are here all day long. This is the Pacific, not the gulf.”

Covarrubias’ recent exploits on this barren stretch of beach--he claimed to have been battling large roosterfish here regularly--have been generating interest among the anglers in town. And the rotting carcass of a 40-pound roosterfish, discovered on Primrose’s arrival at the bluff above the beach seemed to bear him out.

But when cast after cast produced nothing, Primrose began having serious doubts.

Then, suddenly, he became a believer. The bend in his line began to straighten. Considering that the forces of nature were pushing everything in the opposite direction, it could only mean one thing.

Primrose let the line tighten, reeled down and reared back, getting the resistance he expected, but from a fish much bigger than he ever expected.

Line spun from the reel, following the fish to the depths of the sea. Primrose eventually gained, bringing the fish back into the shallows, where it found enough life for another burst of speed, and another 70 yards of line.

But Primrose, using 30-pound test, pumped and reeled again, finally pulling the fish into the face of a large wave, where it glimmered a silvery-green before tumbling over the fall of the breaking wave, signaling an end to the fight.

Primrose pulled the fish onto the sand, where it was corralled, still lively, by Covarrubias and his friends.

Primrose had caught his first roosterfish, a 48-pound trophy that will soon adorn his wall.

“I’ve fished for them probably a dozen times in pangas , at the East Cape and in the Cabo area,” Primrose said. “But I’ve never caught one (until now).”

The roosterfish, so named because of its comb-like dorsal fin, which resembles the notched mass adorning a rooster’s head, is one of many prized game fish caught off lower Baja California.

Silver and green with stark black stripes flowing horizontally across its upper body, atop which wavers its trademark fin, the roosterfish is one of the most exotic-looking creatures in the sea. But it is the challenge of the roosterfish, considered inedible by many, that attracts the fisherman.

The roosterfish is king of its near-shore domain, which includes the green-water shallows from Cabo Blanco, Peru, to Baja California.

It is not easily hooked--letting the fish run with the bait for several seconds is a must--nor is it easily subdued once on the hook. It will make an unstoppable run, or two or three. It might jump and shake or it might lay off in the distance and resist, a common ploy of this very stubborn fish.

Pez gallo , as the roosterfish is called by the Mexicans, is notorious in the East Cape region north of Cabo San Lucas on the Sea of Cortez, and in Cabo itself the fish is often caught along the sandy beaches at land’s end.

Such is not the case along the Pacific shores of lower Baja, where access by boat is often difficult, or at the very least uncomfortable. The ocean is predictably rough, a natural deterrent to Cabo’s huge sportfishing fleet.

But Covarrubias has proven that there are very large roosterfish in this region, a fishery that has not been exploited by any stretch of the imagination, and one that he and longtime friend Darrell Primrose, Dell’s brother, say is a natural for Cabo San Lucas fishermen looking for an alternative to the long and sometimes grueling days spent at sea on a cruiser.

“I’ve been here eight years, and there hasn’t been anything like it,” said Darrell Primrose, who manages the Tortuga Sportfishing fleet for the Mar de Cortez and Finisterra hotels. “Guided surf fishing trips for large roosterfish--they’re perfect for someone who might want to fish from a boat one day and try something different the next.”

And judging from Covarrubias’ success on the stretch of beach a dozen or so miles north of town, near the small ranch district of Migrino, a line-class world record is within the realm of possibility.

Covarrubias’ uncle, a nearby rancher and fisherman, told Covarrubias five weeks ago of the large roosterfish he saw chasing mullet up and down the beach, their comb-like fins slicing the surface.

Covarrubias since has pulled a dozen or so roosterfish through the wind-blown waves, all with his 12-foot surf rod, all on 15-pound test line.

“Here, they are all big roosters,” he said.

The smallest weighed 35 pounds. The average has been closer to 45. The largest was a 52.2-pound fish that was less than five pounds shy of the line-class world record.

Dell Primrose was among the first visitors to accompany Covarrubias, traveling out of town on Highway 19, through the sun-baked desert of towering cactus, past cattle, goats and dogs, to the dirt road leading to the coast.

The forests of cactus gave way to the vast Pacific, which in all its turquoise beauty was the picture of refreshment.

The westerly wind cooled the air and flattened the sand. Driftwood, smoothed by the elements, lay in clumps near where the beach turned to desert. Pelicans soared low and gracefully in patterned flight.

The Mexicans scurried down a bluff to a rocky outcropping and flung bare treble hooks into the shallows. They waited, and with eagle eyes watched through the rippled surface for mullet to swim near the shining hooks, then, when the mullet came near, yanked abruptly, snagging the unsuspecting fish.

Dell Primrose belly-hooked one of the thick-skinned mullet, then trotted awkwardly toward the ebbing flow of the tide, and cast the wriggling mullet out beyond the waves. He did it again and again, each time hoping the bend in his line would straighten.