The Fish Catcher

There is a common joke among fishermen, and it goes something like this.

“We call ourselves fishermen because we put our hook in the water and wait for the fish to bite.”

“Now if we actually caught fish, then we would call ourselves catchermen.”

With that in mind, we set out in our 18 foot Bayliner on one of the most glorious mornings we have seen in weeks. We wanted to catch Sierra, an aggressive ocean going fish which resembles the trout. 

In reality we really just want to be out on the water.

We had been told that the Mexican fishing guides in town were catching their limit of Sierra off the San Ines Islands about 30 miles by boat from where we live.

Last year we limited out on Sierra in about an hour, much closer to home at the entrance of Conception Bay. That was when the drain plug popped out of the back of the boat and we found ourselves taking on water fast. (But that’s a whole different story we will hold for another time.)

This year we hoped things would be different and we had a new drain plug and a spare just in case. 

However after three quarters of an hour trolling at the entrance of the Bay, we had not one bite.

We pulled in our lines and decided to head for the San Ines Islands. The motor on our boat had other ideas.

It ran well at low speeds and we had no problem getting out to the entrance of the bay, but now when we pushed the throttle to full forward the motor jumped out of gear. There was no way to get the boat up on a plane.

We gave up the idea of San Ines Islands and headed for shore. Just this season we installed a “kicker”or a 6 horse Yamaha as a back up motor, so we were really not worried about getting home.

The Bayliner still trolled at 7 knots so we could fish while we were on the way home, and it was still early in the day. Kathy, the “catcher woman” asked “Are we in any hurry?”

As we arrived off shore she put her line and lure out heading south in very flat seas. Not ten minutes passed and she yelled “Go the bottom.” But when we stopped the boat, she yanked on the pole and she had a fish.

It was a nice Pinto Bass about 14 inches long. Not much of a fighter but it would make good eating.

We turned the boat around and made a couple more passes. The third time around she had hooked into another Pinto Bass about the same size as the first. 

Now we could have caught more, but what for? We had dinner and that was what we fished for.

We headed home slowly and we pulled up on the beach about noon. We cleaned the two Pinto Bass and put them on ice for that evening’s dinner. 

It doesn’t get much fresher than that!