I have been trying to
design more for my web, compile a group of useful detailed
maps from Cancun to Chetumal for my web, get the server
and DNS straightened out so it is once again visible,
write more Starfish Trek episodes, install a 15 meter
tower so my internet connection isn’t broken by
a gentle breeze, plan and implement a construction project
on two other buildings here, continue my ongoing war
on the insects and weeds, plan my monthly shopping trip,
count my pennies and convert them to pesos, perform
a minor tune up and inspection of ‘Ole Blue, locate
a round tuit, pull 3/4 of a very old canoe (that was
hand carved from a log) from the jungle to the front
of Casa Azul, learn more Spanish, keep up to date on
my friend - Bill White, clean up the trash washed ashore
from the sea, keep Ms. Blue Chair company, repair my
broken brand new Honda generator, equalize my batteries,
hugging and being hugged by Yara (Dumb ‘ole me
thinking I could get away with phonetically spelling
her name as “Jata”), spend some quality
time with my adult lady friend - Diane, write a “Report
From South Of Town", personally answer lots of
e-mails from all over the world, repair a friend’s
laptop, take more pictures, pet my dog Tan, cook, clean
and wash dishes, make more coconut milk, open and close
all windows every time a black cloud passes overhead,
visit friends, get my garden going, cook my tropical
delights, start my second half century, eat, sleep a
little and go fishing. Yea, it has been a lazy, boring
week here at La Casa Azul Del Rancho Portillas. I just
might have the first cerveza I’ve had all week
and go to bed. Naaah! Every moment here is an adventure!
I suppose I’ll let you off light by telling about
my fishing. If I can’t get away with lying about
that, I have never been a respectable fisherman. Let
me preface this story by explaining that for over 45
years, I have considered myself to be a fisherman extraordinaire.
I have caught everything from ¼” (6.35mm)
ghost shrimp to a 10’ 3” long (3.12 meters)
Tiger Shark weighing in at 535 pounds (almost 200 kilos).
I have even swam with a 27 foot (8.22 meter) whale shark
estimated to weigh over 4200 pounds (1900 kilos) and
probably about 129 years old (no metric conversion available)
from data we collected 35 miles (60 kilometers) off
the Texas coast. So, I used to know how to fish!
Don’t get me wrong, the fishing is great here
at Portillas. It is the catching I have been having
trouble with. Every day since my arrival, I have tried
my hand at catching a meal in front of Casa Azul to
no avail. Every day, all I catch are what we call in
Texas “Bait Thieves”; the tiny little fish
that just seem to end up hooked on my lures or now,
swallow my hard earned “sardines.” I spent
my first thirty days tossing my entire massive collection
of gorgeous pieces of hook encrusted plastic and metal
that tackle shops use to catch fishermen’s money.
Having gone over thirty days without a fresh fish meal,
I was getting concerned about getting scurvy or something.
I swallowed my pride with a dose of humility and told
Margarita (a woman!) about my plight. She told me to
get some sardines and my problem would be solved. I
asked if she had any and with a surprised look she said
no. She said I needed a net to catch them myself. Explaining
that I did have a cast net, I asked where to find them
here. Pointing just beyond the shoreline and waving
like she was shooing a fly, she simply said, “Out
there.” With new resolve and my cast net draped
over my shoulder, wading into almost waist deep water,
I peered just below the crystal clear surface. There
were lots of little fish from 2 to 3 inches long but
none that even came close to what I have called sardines
for over 30 years.
In Texas, Louisiana , Mississippi and Florida; I have
often bought what we call “sardines.” Sometimes
the box is labeled “cigar minnows.” (How
can you smoke those stinky things anyway?) Other times
it is labeled “Mackerel.” They usually average
round 7” long (you do the metric math if you care
to.) We called them all, “sardines” and
they are the preferred bait for offshore fishing along
with Ballyhoo for trolling and squid for bottom fishing.
I tossed the cast net until I twisted my back and slapped
the back of my head with all the lead weights at once.
Recovering from the multitude of 3/4” knots all
over my head; I tried casting some more until the net
draped over my entire body, head to ankles, as if to
catch me instead of sardines. All I ever caught was
those damn little tiny fish about the size of mud minnows,
no sardines.
As Don Felipe admired my straight row of a dozen rods
and reels standing at attention in their pieces of 2”
PVC pipe in front of Casa Azul one day; I asked him
where I could catch some sardines. As if he and Margarita
were Siamese twins, he pointed at just beyond the shoreline,
flicked his wrist like he was brushing dandruff off
a colleague’s black dress jacket’s shoulders
saying, “Out there.” I felt like grabbing
and shaking him as I wanted to say, “Hold on there
you qwazy wabbit!” Thinking to myself, “Another
week of this and I’ll buy some fish!” I
asked Felipe to show me. He obliged by walking to the
edge of the water, looking for just a second and then
pointing at the same little fish I had been catching
for quite a while in my cast net and saying, “See!
Lots of sardines, everywhere!” “Those sardines
are what you use for bait here?” Asking with a
totally puzzled look on my face. “Oh yes! The
best fishing bait.” Continuing, “Mexican
fish aren’t fooled by all those bad tasting chunks
of plastic you are trying to get them to eat. They would
rather eat some good sardines.” He laughed sarcastically.
“I will eat fish tonight!” I proclaimed
as he walked toward my truck for his ride home.
My truck hadn’t stopped rolling down the drive
before I was in the water catching my first handful
of keeper sardines! I think the motor was still dieseling
from the crappie Pemex gasoline when my first cast was
complete with a sardine on a hook making its little
tiny splash about 20 meters away. No sooner than I turned
the handle of my 6000C to lock the spool, there was
a familiar tug on the line barely bending my light rod.
Bait thief! I reeled in a little gray snapper at less
than a pound and wiggled him off the hook so he could
get educated. With 5 more sardines remaining in my small
holed laundry basket in 8” of water, I grabbed
yet another bait. In a flash, I was reeling in his older
brother at less than 2 pounds and released him likewise
to return to school. After three more tosses of the
cast net to replenish my supply of bait, I finally gave
up as I was tired of wasting my energy feeding the juveniles
and returned to the house, dejected, seriously doubting
my abilities as a Costa Maya fisherman, trying to choose
between beans or rice for dinner.
After four more frustrating days of the same scenario
with the biggest fish being a 13” yellowtail,
my fifth day was to be my first day without even an
effort to catch a fish since my arrival here. I had
faithfully allocated an hour each day at various times
to attempt to get a fresh fish meal. No Mas! It was
time to either go out with a pro in a boat or try to
buy my dinner in town. Such beautiful water, full of
fish and not one big enough to keep.
I needed some fresh fruit, so I drove to town to visit
Margarita and Yara. As she was bagging my avocados the
size of small cantaloupes, her husband returned and
we swapped Holas. He asked if I wanted some fresh fish.
I had often wondered what that green plywood box was
in front of their house. As he opened it to show me,
he asked, how many kilos I wanted. Knowing from the
hippie days in the sixties that a kilo was about 2.4
pounds, I asked for a five pound fish with a one fish,
two kilo response. He was quick to explain that he and
Margarita had no boat and these were from the Xcalak
pier and he had none around five pounds. Peering inside
the box as he removed the tarp covering his cache of
fish, I dug around a little in his fish to see what
he had. He was proud of his pile of fish that were much
smaller than what I have been releasing (at least four
per day) here.
FLASH!!! We interrupt this program for an important
announcement from La Casa Azul Del Rancho Portillas!
An incredible event happened while Cliff Evans was typing
this story. At 2:57AM, 2 September 2002, La Casa Azul
was struck by lightning! A large thunderstorm was dumping
buckets of rain and shaking this two story concrete
building with its thunder as the sky frequently illuminated
by gigantic jagged bolts of lightening. The most intense
storm I have witnessed to date here. Having an electrical
power supply that is devoid of power supply lines, I
was not concerned and continued typing my report undaunted
in the dark enjoying the light show through my closed
upstairs sliding glass door and failing to save the
end of my report.
A simultaneous extremely loud explosion and a bright
blue flash in the battery room adjacent to this office
separated by an open window produced an electrical charge
that shocked me like I had just stuck my fingers in
a light socket slightly burning the bottom of my feet.
I believe I took as close to a direct hit as I ever
want to take again. Does this mean it will never happen
again as the rule clearly states; “Lightning never
strikes the same place twice.”
All power was lost. The computer just turned off like
the plug had been pulled in spite of a $200 US brand
new uninterruptible power supply that would not stop
its incessant stupid beeping telling me the power was
off (a fact I knew all too well). The acrid smell of
burned ozone and badly fried electronic equipment filled
the air. Shocked and a bit concerned that both my electricity
and computer was probably gone forever, I gathered my
wits and comforted my still yelping Tan dog and went
to bed postponing a damage assessment until the storm
had passed and the light of day had returned.
I slept later than I have since I’ve been here
arising at 6:50AM. The sun was rising in the cloud filled
sky. And the power and all equipment were still dead.
Afraid of the potential monetary cost of the strike,
not to mention my fried wits, I went downstairs and
made a pot of coffee on the propane stove because I
fully expected Mr. Coffee to be inactive for a while
to come.
Upon my entry into the battery room, there appeared
to be no apparent damage other than the breaker was
thrown. I reset it and then had to turn the inverter
on manually. It appeared to be working fine. I tried
a light switch and I am confident there was no problem
after checking all meters. Now to check the status of
my baby, “Northbreeze”; I hit the power
button on the CPU and nothing happened. As a tear started
to form in the corner of my eye, I remembered I needed
to turn on the UPS! Another power button activation
and she fired up like nothing ever happened. A quick
inspection from the roof revealed no evidence whatsoever
of the event. Weird huh? We now return you to your regularly
scheduled programming still in process.
I was inspecting the fish in the box finding what he
was trying to sell me were fish smaller than the hundreds
I have been releasing since my arrival. I asked about
bigger fish and he said I needed a boat to get to the
other side of the reef. Politely refusing to buy any
of his fish, I paid for my fruit & veggies and hurried
home to catch my dinner. First cast, produced a two
pound Grey Snapper that made it to the oven in short
order. Tasty! The moral to this story is: There are
no morals when a man is hungry for fresh fish!
Have a truly great day! As I kick a little sand in response
to the many requests I have received to do so for some
of my fellow insomniac friends; I wish you all health,
happiness and good luck in all your endeavors. May God
bless you all and especially my good friend Bill White.
