Fond Memories: San Carlos Mothership Trip

The following trip report was posted on BWE after I returned from an epic mothership trip on the Sea of Cortez.

Part 1

Ten of us went to San Carlos last week for an OEX sponsored mothership trip aboard the El Duque. The weather and fishing were a little challenging, but we had a good group of anglers who made the best of what Baja had to offer.

We loaded up our kayaks and gear on the trailer at OEX on Tuesday and left for San Carlos early Wednesday morning. The plan was to get to Tucson Airport at 1pm to meet up with Seamus, co-owner of the dive boat El Duque. We got a good start, but Tyler and his peanut-sized bladder had us stopping at every rest stop and gas station. Just when we got past El Centro, Adi had a client emergency and had to stop to talk him down off the ledge. So what do nine guys do while standing in the middle of the desert waiting for somebody to get off the phone? That's right; throw rocks at a metal road sign (right in front of the Caltrans service yard). After several hundred rocks were chucked in the general vicinity of the sign some lucky bastard finally hit it. Hooray; buy that man a beer. After Adi finished his call, nine guys with sore shoulders climbed back into the vehicles and we're off again. Passing through El Centro we see a promising sight.....lots of lamb



That's got to be a sign. We've already heard several hours of Adi telling us about the Mother Of All Lamb that he caught down in Baja. Maybe we'll all get some lamb.
We get to Tuscon a couple of hours late and meet Seamus at the long-term parking. My peanut-size bladder caused the last couple of stops, so Tyler was off the hook for making us late. We quickly shift the trailer over to the van and we're off.





The trip to the border goes quickly, but the crossing takes a little time due to....who knows. Seamus knows how to drive the f**k out of the van/trailer combo. He gets to demonstrate his turning and backing skills multiple times at the border check point. Thanks to the dude in the hat we almost nearly didn't get killed in a traffic accident. He was very helpful (I think) and it only cost a few pesos for his services.

I must have dozed off as we were crossing the border. When I woke up the van was full of drunk-ass bastards. I didn't see that coming.



Somebody put Appetite For Destruction in the CD player and that was all she wrote. Who knew that Axl Rose was sitting back in the third row? WTF? Corey knows every damn word to every song and sounds just like Axl too. That was some fun crap.

Once in Mexico we stopped at every taqueria and gas station that we saw. Seamus started grumbling about us losing time. It wouldn't get any better. After a long and crazy ride we finally got close to San Carlos. On the outskirts of town, we get flagged down by some guy with a badge and an FBI hat. Despite our urging Seamus to keep going (or run over him), he stops and gives the dude a ride. I was trying to see if he was armed (gun or sling shot). He speaks no English, but Mike acts as our translator. He starts giving driving directions. None of us think that this is going to end well. We all have visions of us getting kidnapped or being sold into white slavery. A rather well refreshed Corey makes an alcohol induced suggestion that we just kill the guy and dump the body. Now he speaks English. He perked up a little with that comment. We drop our new friend off at a hotel and proceed to the marina. Not so fast. We have to make one more stop.



We need some provisions for the trip



Ten cases should last three days, right? Only nine guys drinking. We'll see.
We get to the Marina and unload some of our gear. Hunger calls and we have to head to the nearest taco stand.



We return to the marina around midnight and continue unloading our kayaks and stowing our gear. There are a couple of problems already. The slings that the boat owner made aren't going to work for all the yaks. Adjustments need to be made. The bait tank is tits up and they only have dead mullet in the live well. Eventually everything gets sorted out. It's now almost 2am and we are starting to get some strong, gusty winds. We'll be heading out at 5am so we all hit our sleeping bags for a much needed rest.....

Part 2

When we left our merry band of fishermen they were sleeping soundly aboard the El Duque in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. They were enjoying the restful slumber know only to those who are rocked to sleep by the gentle hand of the ocean....oh yeah, drunks also sleep like this. Lots of snoring. I woke to a beautiful sky painted in subtle blues and oranges by the rising sun. Took a piss and crawled back in my sleeping bag. I was tired. The next time I woke up we were anchored up in the lee of San Pedro de Nolasco, a small island off the coast of Sonora.



Typical of the islands throughout the Sea of Cortez and Baja, San Pedro has a certain rugged beauty to it. Whitewashed with guano, it rises almost vertically out of the water. The water's edge is pocked with caves and blowholes. The only green to be found was at the top of the ridge that ran the length of the island. The upper reaches of the island are covered with a hearty grass and seemingly out of place saguaro-like cactus.



The sheer rock walls continued down below the surface, with depths of 40-50 feet found just yards away from the shore in some places.



Kayaks were already in the water and the rest of the guys were rigged up and getting ready to fish. Not being a morning person it took me a little longer to get all my gear sorted out.  By the time I got on my yak the early risers were already exploring the area's fishing possibilities. There were probably twenty private boats fishing our side of the island in about 150-230 feet of water. Our lack of live bait was going to make things difficult. Many of us took dead mullet to chunk.



As the morning progressed, the yak fleet dispersed to try various methods to get the fish to bite. Chunk bait, squid, trolled lures, yo-yos and butterfly jigs; all were tried. The bite was slow throughout the morning. The PBs were in deeper water jigging and trolling with about the same results. An occasional bendo rod was seen, but they were few and far between.



At the end of a less than productive morning, most were ready to head back to the El Duque for lunch. Since I got such a late start I chose to stay out and do a little exploring. I paddled around the island and ran into Kurt, who was having a little more luck than I. Actually, I think it was more about the large disparity in skill level. Kurt had already caught and released several cabrilla and gold spotted bass.



Every time I crossed paths with Kurt he seemed to be hooked up. He was a steady producer throughout the trip. It's always the quite ones. No bragging; just one fish after another.



Several guys got some diving in after lunch. Seamus had been free diving in the morning and got all of us hopeful with reports of big pargo in our cove.



Having the dive gear aboard added another dimension to the trip. The divers were able to verify that we were sitting on top of a lot of big fish. That kept the hope alive even with the slow bite. Knowing that there were some big ones down there kept me tossing the iron and doing that stupid butterfly jigging (its been a week and my arm is still sore) long after I would normally have quit. Seamus would come up and say that he had seen large pargo or yellow tail in a certain area and we would rush over there trying every technique imaginable to get their interest. The fish that Seamus had speared also got the adrenaline flowing. He brought aboard several good sized pargo and cabrilla. As the fishing continued to be slow, the divers were able to break up the long day with forays below the surface. Chris, Mike, Todd and Brent all got some dive time in. Seamus spent what seemed to be the majority of the day in the water.



Later in the afternoon the bite picked up. Squid strips were the key. After the private boats took off, most of us headed out to fish a ridge line that they had been congregating on. Cabrilla, yellow snapper, trigger fish, sculpin and other bottom fish were all taking the squid.



Brent was hardly able to control his excitement when he got a nice Pacific creole fish



I was having no luck trolling so I decided to try the squid. I paddled around in vain for a half hour trying to find an 80' high spot that everybody else had successfully fished. I couldn't find it, but all that paddling put me several hundred yards north of the rest of the fleet. As the sun was getting low, I spotted some birds working the bait about a half mile away. I had chased the birds a number of times already, but to no avail. They would either move away or disperse before I could catch up. The birds always seemed to be diving on very small bait that was a little below the surface. To that point, I hadn't seen any real boils on the surface. This time was different. In the flat calm water I could see the fish breaking the surface; the golden, late afternoon sun reflecting off the splashing water. This was make or break time for me. I hadn't caught a thing to this point and the skunk was really starting to smell up my little corner of the ocean. I made a frantic call on the radio and started paddling toward the birds. I soon got my massively overloaded X-Factor up to flank speed. I was in true Magnum P.I. paddling form; sprinting after the birds. I looked back to see the rest of the fleet pulling in lines and coming up to speed. It reminded me of a squadron of destroyers steaming into harm's way. This sprint was turning into a marathon. The fish were boiling along a front about fifty yards wide, moving rapidly away from me. By the time I got close my arms were burning. The fish were just out of casting range and I started to think that I wasn't going to be able to catch up. Just as I start feeling the first twinges of cramps in my arms, the bait ball takes a hard turn towards the island. I'm able to cut the corner and get within casting range as they start to turn away again. I can now see the yellow tail; their green backs breaking the surface as they attack the bait. I grab the rod off my lap and toss a gold Spanyid Maniac spoon. ARRRHHHHH!!!! OK; I wasn't expecting the lure to take off at a ninety degree angle to the direction that I wanted it to go. I frantically retrieve the lure and make another cast toward the rapidly departing fish. This time I placed the lure just beyond the boil. Two cranks and I'm on. I was so amped up by the chase I didn't realize just how tight I had the drag. The YT went under the yak, heading south, and I almost followed it under. It circled back and as it came up on the port side I bounced it onto the yak. Not big, but fun for the first fish of the day. I put a leg over it to keep it from jumping back out. No chance of that happening.  The lure's treble hook had one point in the fish, one in my dry pants and one in the back of my leg.



I got things straightened out and went after the birds again. No more luck. We had a line abreast that covered hundreds of yards and we trolled all around this side of the island until the sun started to set.



The boat started calling us back. We had a long trip over to Tortuga and they wanted to get the kayaks loaded before it got dark.



I got back aboard and hit the rack within a half hour. I guess they had a pretty good dinner with all of the fish that were caught. Three hours of sleep over two days finally caught up to me. I was knocked out until we got to Tortuga later that night. Our adventure was just getting started.....

Part 3

We had motored across the Sea of Cortez after dinner, Thursday night. I've no idea what the passage was like, as I was knocked out in my sleeping bag. I woke in the early morning hours to find us anchored close to the cliffs of Tortuga Island. The sky was clear and billions of stars shown in the darkness. Looking down into the black water was almost like looking at the starry sky. Everywhere, the flashes of bio-luminescence lit the choppy surface. Whitecaps flashed all around us and the deck sparkled as waves washed through the scuppers. I fell asleep watching the myriad stars swinging back and forth. I woke again to the sound of the GPS anchor drag alarm. A quick look off the port side revealed that we were uncomfortably close to the cliffs. Fortunately, the water is deep and there was no concern for running aground. The crew moved us back out farther into the cove.
At dawn's light, we were able to see the island that we would become so familiar with.



We were in the lee of Tortuga. We anchored in a small, roughly triangular spot where the bulk of the island protected us from the constant wind. You could see the boundaries of our little comfort zone; white caps and a 2-3 foot wind chop marking the edge. This was going to be a little more challenging than what we had at San Pedro. We were all eager to launch and find some big fish. We had heard too many stories of monster grouper, pargo and amberjack and wanted to get out on our kayaks to catch some trophies. I think that everybody had that picture of Menash and his 95# amberjack driving them. We were sure that, if such a fish was to be caught from a kayak, this was the place that it would happen. Most of us launched early, with Mike and Chris staying aboard preparing for a morning dive.



Conditions were snotty from the start. Getting your gear on the kayak was complicated by the chop and a persistent wind that wanted to push you under the swim step. We found it easier to launch and then run up to the bow, where we had our rods handed down to us one at a time.



Brad, Adi and Tyler were the most adventurous of the lot. The immediately headed for deeper water to look for the big fish. They struggled for hours with the wind and choppy conditions.



Seamus was searching the area around our anchorage. He would surface and call over to us with reports of big pargo and grouper. Time after time we would converge on these areas, offering up all manner of bait and lure. No luck. The mornings just didn't produce a bite. It became frustrating, knowing that they were down there, but not getting as much as a nibble.

Corey and Kurt were having better luck in closer to the island. Maybe it was that they could concentrate on fishing, rather than constantly having to work at staying upright.



From time to time I passed by Kurt and he always seemed to be catching something. It looked like he was throwing plastics in 30-60' feet most of the time.



I didn't want to get too close to Corey and Kurt for fear that the smell of skunk which clung to my kayak might cause them some bad luck. I worked the shallows with plastics, Gulp and Krocs. No luck. I trolled the 60-90' range with a deep diving MegaBait and a low rigged dead mullet. Still no luck. I worked deeper water with the yo-yo iron and the butterfly jig. Still no luck. Very frustrating, indeed. I headed back to the boat for lunch.
Everybody looked a little haggard. Fighting the wind and chop all morning was really taking it out of us. Diving started to look more inviting. Several of the guys came back with some nice fish. Adi got some trigger fish that Alex expertly turned into ceviche.



Tyler turned in what proved to be the big fish of the trip; a 12+ lb cabrilla.  His cabrilla was bigger than some of the pargo that Seamus had shot.



The boys were catching some fish as the day progressed; just not the "right kind"



Oh well; it all tasted good when Alex prepared it.



After lunch we lost a kayak to the wind. As we were securing yaks to the rail, Todd's Cobra got loose. The wind rapidly pushed the kayak away from the El Duque.



Todd runs back to the swim step, yelling "somebody give me a rod". I handed him one of mine that had a heavy Kroc rigged. Todd made a perfect cast just over the center of the yak. He started a slow retrieve and snagged the seat with the treble hook.



We didn't know it at the time, but Todd's free-spirited kayak would cause us more trouble.

The bite picked up significantly as the afternoon progressed. Again, squid was the key. I paddled over to Adi and begged some squid. I had been pluggin' away with the iron and butterfly all afternoon, with no success. I had to catch something, or they might not let my skunk-scented yak back on board. First drop with the squid produced a nice sized trigger. Not the right kind? Who cares...I like ceviche.



The squid continues to produce.



The rocky bottom and the propensity of all of these fish to run for cover when hooked meant lots of frayed and cut leaders. At the end of the day I was force to go with a 50# fluorocarbon leader and that still got chewed up. I was coming to the realization that even if we were able to get the big fish to bite, it was going to be difficult to get them out of the rocks.

I was the last one back to the boat again. That "just one more cast" syndrome that I suffer from was flaring up again.
Another beautiful sunset on the water.

Part 4

With reports of the wind picking up, we decided after dinner that it would be best to return to San Pedro or the mainland coast. We wanted another day to test the Tortuga waters, but crossing the Sea of Cortez when the conditions were rough was not the best idea. We thought that we could salvage the remainder of the trip with another good afternoon of fishing at San Pedro. All of the kayaks were brought back aboard that evening. After dinner several of the guys worked at making bait. The bait tank had been fixed and they managed to fill it with a couple dozen large macs.

We got underway early the next morning to make a run across to the mainland. We could tell from the start that it was going to be rough.



We had run short of Dramamine, so large quantities of beer were consumed instead. Odd; I'd never heard of this cure for sea sickness before. It seemed to work until we got out of the lee of the island. By the time we were a mile or two out we started taking some nasty rolls. I guess I've neglected to mention any description of the El Duque up to this point. The El Duque is a 52', round-bottomed, concrete dive boat. Yes; I did say concrete....you know, that stuff that the mob encases your feet in when they want to sink your body. The Duke is about as stable as a concrete bath tub and the rocking motion is amplified when your on the upper deck. Almost everybody came up topside for the passage.



Soon we realized that sitting on the deck was the only way to stay put. We were getting tossed around pretty good at this point. Corey lit up a smoke and that was all Mike needed to go into projectile vomit mode. He slid down to the main deck and promptly filled Chris' yak with breakfast.



The waves were getting bigger as we got away from the island. Every couple of minutes we would run into a good set that would violently throw us around. After getting hit by one of these waves we heard a sickening pounding on the hull. You know that sound when a kayak gets slammed into concrete....yeah, that was the sound. Somebody looked over the side and yelled that we were losing a kayak. Just then we got hit by another large wave and Todd's kayak was ripped away from the side.



A quick look astern and we see Todd's yak, bait tank and camera case slipping away. One of the hatches had been blown off by the wave. Amazingly, it was still upright and floating. Alex slowed the El Duque and a quick discussion took place to decide what to do. I was dreading coming about in these seas. This friggin' concrete bath tub was rocking badly enough heading into the seas. I didn't want to find out what she would do with her beam to the swell. In the end, we decided to try to retrieve the yak. Alex managed to come about between sets, but it was still pretty ugly. We heard crashing noise coming from below; everything was getting tossed about in the galley. Corey, Brent and the deckhand, Fernando, were on the stern with a gaff. We made a slow approach and they managed to gaff the yak. Todd's yak was safely on board and we could return to the island to wait out the wind. Well, at least we thought that was the plan. They asked Todd if he wanted to try to get the bait tank and the camera case. He said he didn't care about the tank, but he really wanted to get the camera back. I don't know what sort of pictures were on that camera, but they must have been juicy.



We missed on one pass and had to come around again. That pig really rolled quite a bit and we were tempting fate each time we got in the trough. Fernando was going to use a net to try and catch the camera case. I couldn't believe it when I saw him holding onto the damn bait net. He was going to try to snag a 6" camera case in rough seas with a 3 foot long bait net. Unbelievable. We missed on the first attempt and had to back down on the case. That was fun. At some point, Fernando wound up on the wrong side of the stern. The camera case was coming up on them rapidly and he had Todd's kayak between him and the swim step. Corey picked him up and dropped him on the other side of the yak. He managed to scoop up the case on the next try. With the successful retrieval of the camera, ALEX got greedy and wanted to go for the bait tank. We came around again and were able to gaff it on the next pass. By this time, we were all ready to head back to the island. Fortunately, we were heading the right direction on the last pass and we just kept going. Two hours later we were back at anchor in the lee of the island.



By now, we were resigned to the prospect of staying at Tortuga for the next two days until the wind died down. Our biggest concern was getting word to our relatives that we would not be getting home on schedule. Tyler was able to get a signal on his cell phone. Brent got through to the shop and told Brian to make the calls to our next of kin. That was the last communications that we had until we returned to San Carlos.

With nowhere to go, we put the kayaks back in the water and did some more fishing. Conditions were the same as the previous day; windy and choppy.

Seamus went back out for a long free diving excursion. He must have covered several miles and was in the water for hours. When he returned he had an enormous pargo on his float. Chris, Mike, Todd and Brent all got some more diving in.



Fishing was pretty much as it had been the day before. Lots of trigger, cabrilla, and yellow snapper.



Once again, squid was the consistent producer. Fishing picked up again in the afternoon. More fish for the table. This evening, Alex made a fish stew with jalapenos and fish tacos.....muy bueno.

And then we had a real EMERGENCY. We ran out of beer WTF? Ten cases just wasn't enough? Holy crap. Mutinous talk filled the night air. Were we going to risk the passage across the Sea of Cortez in search of beer? Should we paddle over to the pangueros who were also stranded out here to see if they had any? Nah. Fortunately we just ran out of bad ideas and went to sleep.

The next morning we contemplated the choppy horizon. It still looked just as bad as the previous day. Nothing to do but fish. Corey, Brent and Todd launched early; eager to troll some live bait. We hoped that the big macs would do the trick. Shortly after launching I heard Todd let out a yell, only to be followed with an anguished cry; Arrrhhhh! His mac got hit by something big, but it immediately busted him off in the rocks. Brent also got a good hit, only to lose it in the rocks after about twenty seconds. It was a good sign, but the rocky bottom was going to make catching anything very difficult. The divers came up with reports of house-sized boulders below us. Todd shifted over to wire leaders, hoping to have a chance. I had one mac that got raked and another that got hit and immediately pulled me down into the rocks. We finally had the right bait and the fish had started to bite, but it was going to take some work to get one of these big fish out of the rocks.
After three days of fighting the wind, this morning, most of us chose to fish from the boat.






We ran across a 42' Cabo that had been stuck at the island for three days. While they weren't very friendly when asked if they had extra beer, they did give us weather updates. It was nice to finally have access to some satellite and buoy weather reports, rather than anecdotal reports from the pangueros. It looked like it was going to lay down in the afternoon. The Cabo was going to make a run for it around noon. We decided that we should also make a run in the afternoon. We got all the kayaks and divers back aboard and had an early lunch. We got most of the kayaks lashed off and it was hoped that they would be out of harm's way. Only two were still in the low sling positions that had been problematic on the first crossing attempt. With all the gear stowed and lashed down, we got underway again.



It was obvious from the start that it was still going to be a rough trip. Fortunately, the wind had calmed enough to make the crossing safe. That isn't to say that we didn't take some pretty good rolls



Chris got launched across the upper deck by one good wave. He crashed into Mike, then hit his face on a bench. He learned to keep his center of gravity low to the deck



My yak took quite a beating on the way back, but it made it across with no major damage. I was worried about it the whole way across. With every big roll to port, the waves would hit it and shove it up into Brad's kayak. Neither was damaged, but they sound of my yak smacking into his every minute or two for 6 hours was somewhat distressing.





The crossing was rough, but we were all glad to see Tortuga sinking down on the horizon.



The only problem that we had was when the engine started to overheat and we had to shut it down. DIW in those sloppy conditions wasn't very fun. The crew stared at the engine for a while until Mike solved the problem. He used HP air from a scuba tank to back flush the sea water cooling intake. After that it was smooth sailing.

The trip back had a few more surprises in store for us. A huge pod of spinner dolphin spotted us and raced to intercept. They were pretty amazing; jumping 10-15 feet out of the water and doing complete flips and spins. They rapidly caught up to us and played in our bow wave for a while. They got bored with our slow speed and left us after a few minutes. Just after they departed, we had a large sperm whale pass close aboard. Another memory from a trip that had provided so many.

After 8 hours we pulled into San Carlos. It was late and we wanted to get some food. We quickly piled everybody into the van. OK, well not everybody. Corey, Todd and Kurt must not have liked the smell of ten guys who hadn't showered in four days. They chose to ride on the trailer. You gotta love Mexico. We got some food and the beer lamp was lit. After a 2-day enforced separation from the amber nectar of life, large quantities were consumed. And the people were happy.

In spite of the long night, we got up early and got all of the gear off the boat. We had the trailer packed and the kayaks loaded within two hours. A final group shot at the marina and we were on our way.



Of course, we couldn't leave Mexico without one more stop at a taco stand. Dos mas tacos carne asada, por favor.



The trip back was somewhat more subdued than our trip down to San Carlos. It had been a long trip and we were all looking forward to getting home. That and everybody needed some sleep.

All in all, it was an excellent trip. We didn't catch the fish that we had hoped for, but we still had lots of fun. About what you would expect for a trip on the the Sea of Cortez in February. I'd love to get back down there in the summer. We had a great group of anglers on this trip and I had a blast. Thanks to all who shared their fishing knowledge with me. Also a big thanks to everybody who took pictures. I have used some from Adi, Kurt and Tyler in these reports. A big thanks goes to Brent and Seamus for making this trip possible.
I can't wait for the Islander trips to start.