Caught on the Fly--and From the Sand

Morning has broken and the sun has performed its usual magic, transforming a colorless sky into one full of dazzling reds.

It sits low in the eastern sky, beckoning hordes of fishermen in cruisers and skiffs, which are blazing foamy white trails toward the deep blue sea ... to where the action is.

But not everyone is so compelled. Gary Graham is among those who have remained on the beach. With his faithful white dog by his side, fly rod in hand, Graham is performing his usual magic, casting gracefully, stripping in line, then casting again.

Soon, there is a taker, a roosterfish that goes skittering through the shallows for several minutes before Graham, playing the fish masterfully, has the glistening predator at his feet.

It’s not a big rooster but that takes nothing from the experience because, as he says, “Any rooster on a fly is a good rooster--I don’t care if it weighs a pound or 40 pounds.”

It’s a point well made. Roosterfish are the broad-shouldered bullies of southern Baja California’s inner waters, as wary as any of the more glamorous offshore species, with the exception of marlin. They’re difficult to fool and the bigger ones are strong enough to empty the spools of all but the largest and most sophisticated conventional reels.

Yet Graham, with his simple fly-fishing rig, using flies that mimic sardines and mullet, has fooled and landed dozens over the years. Last year, he caught and released at least one roosterfish on 37 consecutive days, a remarkable feat.

As owner of the Baja on the Fly guide service (www.bajaonthefly.com), he has watched clients catch roosters up to 40 pounds, after battles that have lasted for more than an hour. They have hooked much larger roosters but, with no boat to give chase, they’ve been unable to stop them.

The same is true of the really big jack crevalle, the pargo, the amberjacks.

These are the kings of the southern Sea of Cortez shallows, and a growing number of people are discovering that the most exciting way to experience them is with a fly rod--and with both feet planted firmly in the sand.

“I consider the beach to be the ultimate challenge, since there is no way to follow the fish,” Graham says. “It’s just the angler and the fish.”

A River Runs Through ...

Not all of his customers feel that way coming in, and they come to fish with Graham--the only outfitter in Baja California’s East Cape region--from all over the world.

To most, the ultimate challenge is doing battle with the exotic species of game fish this area is famous for: the marlin, sailfish, tuna, dorado and wahoo. They bring 12-to 14-weight rods and an assortment of big-game flies--large deceivers, mostly--and are sent offshore via cruiser or skiff to the same areas the conventional anglers fish.

Trolling hookless lures or casting live bait to “tease” them close to the boat, they then cast their flies, hope for a strike and hold on for the fight of their lives if they get one.

That’s an exciting proposition, to be sure. But guests usually reserve at least one day for the inner waters, which teem with not only the larger predators but an array of smaller fish, from snook to sierra mackerel, from bonefish to needlefish, from Mexican lookdowns to African pompano.

The offshore-inshore boat-fishing combinations have been popular since Graham, 62, opened for business in 1994. But only in the last few years have they come to discover the beauty of fishing from the beach and, in fact, the ATV-led excursions have become one of Graham’s most popular draws.

“The fun of this is just the drive on the beach and sight-casting to fish,” says Don Sloan, 62, a Borrego, Calif., resident who spends a month here every year and occasionally serves as one of Graham’s beach guides. “When it happens, it’s very explosive and it’s probably one of the best experiences you can have as a fisherman.”

Fishing the beach, Graham and Sloan say, in many ways is like fishing a river, and with ATVs for access they and their clients have about 30 miles of riverbank--mostly unspoiled coastline--from which to cast.

During the prime spring and summer months, though, most fishing is done on a 12-mile ribbon of sand stretching just south of Buena Vista, running past Rancho Leonero Resort, past the small town of La Ribera, past Punta Colorada and out and slightly beyond the lighthouse at Punta Arena.

A brief tour with Sloan recently revealed little in the way of action--an unusually abrupt change in water conditions had dispersed the baitfish and their absence had resulted in far fewer predators roaming the shores. And since baitfish inspire the predators to feed, those that were patrolling the shores would do little more than casually inspect any flies cast their way.

But it was easy to see the possibilities this area held. When the morning sun reached a certain point in the sky, you could see deeply into the water. A series of deep cuts runs remarkably close to shore and, like rivers, these cuts provide thoroughfares for the links in the nearshore food chain.

Occasionally, small schools of bait would flutter across the surface, chased there, obviously, by much larger fish. But these flurries were few and far between, and they were nothing compared to what they’d be if the sardinas, or sardines, were schooling here.

Occasionally, roosterfish were seen traveling through the watery avenues, in twos or threes, raising the fishermen’s adrenaline levels. But the fish were not interested in anything thrown their way.

Long and slender needlefish also graced the shoreline, several times, but were just passing through. One small fish was caught, but it was only a listless puffer.

Only days earlier, the situation had been much different. In an area just south of Rancho Leonero, called the Ponds, Sloan cast a large mullet fly before the sun was high enough to afford a glimpse into the water.

As he was stripping in line, with both hands, there was a blind strike and a sizzling run toward a large stump sticking out of the water 130 yards offshore.

“What jacks will do is run right [under] the surface like a submarine and when he got out there he got up on top and I could see him running along by the stump,” Sloan said, pointing offshore. “Then he came in several times and ran up and down the beach.”

Sloan somehow managed to play the jack crevalle through a minefield of stumps washed into the sea by last season’s torrential rains and, after about 25 minutes, “I surfed him up onto the beach, jumped on him and grabbed him by the tail.”

The fish weighed 17 pounds before it was released. It was one of the largest jacks ever landed on a fly rod from the beach by a Baja on the Fly client or guide, and a perfect bookend for one caught days earlier off Punta Arena by guide Lance Peterson. Both were caught on eight-weight rods.

The tour continued south past the Ponds, which required some tricky maneuvering across a large arroyo, and past several makeshift fish camps set up on the beach by locals, who were using lines spooled around beer or soda cans.

At each camp, Sloan waved and most of the fishermen waved back, although one couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of these interlopers on their high-priced quad-runners, the long and whippy fishing poles protruding from their rod holders.

The tour swept down the long ribbon of sand, up and through the parking lot of Hotel Punta Colorada, one of the more remote East Cape fishing resorts, and all the way out to the lighthouse at Punta Arena.

There, with the vast desert as a backdrop and an equally vast emerald sea washing up against their feet, those on the excursion had about an hour to try to catch a fish before heading back to their hotels in time to catch cabs to the airport.

Though they wore the same glum looks most tourists wear on the day they have to return to the bustling world they call home, they marveled at their starkly beautiful surroundings, and seemed to forget about all else as they sent their glittery deceivers out onto the shimmering sea, hoping for the type of blind strike Sloan had spoken of back at the Ponds.

On this day, however, there were none.

The Rooster Crows

Fortunately for Graham, there is always another day. And a day later, next to the Rancho Leonero pier, as the hotel boats are plowing out to sea, he’s enjoying the sunrise, taking a few casts before going home to prepare for the afternoon arrivals.

The rooster crows early. The fisherman sets the hook, the dog barks, and all seems right with the world.