F
Field Ethos
Guest
By Gayne C. Young
“What?! Drink a beer at 7 a.m.?!?”
My son’s question and the shock in which he delivered it told me he had a lot to learn about deep sea fishing. Good thing I brought him to Iztapa, Guatemala, for lessons.
Known for its deep water, calm seas, and as the home of the world’s best sailfishing, Guatemala has long been the best kept secret in sport fishing. And since my son needed schooling on all the aforementioned, I booked a trip with Blue Bayou Guatemala. After a short flight from the states my 21-year-old son Barrett and I landed at La Aurora International Airport in Guatemala City. We quickly cleared customs (thank God we cut in front of all those missionaries and teen church groups). Then we ventured outside the terminal to find Blue Bayou Owner Chris Starr in his well-appointed truck complete with a cooler of beer ready to ferry us the short two and a half hours to his lodge in the Pacific Coastal town of Iztapa. Along the way Chris told us of how he came to Guatemala.
After marrying his college sweetheart and spending a few years toiling away in the Detroit auto industry, Chris decided to head south to learn more about his Guatemalan wife’s family. One thing he discovered was that his brother-in-law, Kiki, loved fishing and that there was a void in the offshore industry. “No one had a lower end, affordable deep sea fishing boutique-type operation. Kiki and I wanted to start something that wouldn’t break the bank for clients, something where people could come back on a yearly basis.”
And so was born Blue Bayou.
Chris delivered us to the lodge just in time for cocktail hour. The eight-bedroom lodge was spacious, situated in an upper-end gated community and featured a pool, hot tub and outdoor dining and a bar. It was at the latter where Barrett and I spent most of our evening, indulging in local cocktails, becoming familiar with the outstanding staff, and meeting the other guests. We topped this off with grilled steaks for dinner followed by cigars under a star-filled sky.
Following breakfast the next morning, Chris drove his guests the short distance to the docks where we all climbed aboard our assigned boats. Barrett and I were to fish off the Mijooo, a 31-foot Bertram run by Captain Hoel and his two mates.
“I Raccoon,” the first mate introduced himself.
“Raccoon like Mapache?” I replied.
“Si. Mapache. You speak Spanish?”
“Not really.”
“You no speak Spanish but know word for Raccoon?”
“Yeah. I’m odd like that.”
Raccoon agreed then introduced the other mate, Jose, and we cast off.
We were just past the breakers when Raccoon offered up an early morning beer. I explained to my son that drinking beer at seven was not only permissible on offshore fishing trips but encouraged. Barrett agreed and we toasted our day with a couple of ice cold Gallos. A few beers and less than an hour and a half later, the Mijooo was trolling prime waters of 8,000 feet deep. And not 10 minutes after the baits were out, we had a strike. Raccoon grabbed my son and patiently guided him through how to land a monster sailfish.
“Reel! Reel! Reel! You know to stop reel! Reel! Reel!”
Barrett did as instructed (or was screamed at) only to have his first potential sailfish break off just at the boat. The mates assured Barrett he’d done everything correctly, then had him reeling in another sail just 20 minutes later. Unfortunately, this one broke off at the last moment as well, but not before giving Barrett a view at some spectacular aerobatics as the fish breached completely out of the water three separate times. The mates once again assured Barrett he had done nothing wrong and quickly put him on a third sailfish. Barrett landed this third attempt after a mere 10 minutes of backbreaking and muscle strain. My son’s first deep sea fish carried an estimated 70 pounds of weight and measured just over eight feet. Barrett was ecstatic with his catch … until he talked to Raccoon about it.
“That a good one?” Barrett asked.
“Yeah. It good.”
“What’s the biggest you ever helped land?”
“Oh. More twice that weight. Maybe 160 pounds.”
Barrett took on a look of defeat.
Raccoon responded accordingly.
“Your next one might to be bigger. Let’s try!”
Captain Hoel lowered the throttle and quickly transported us to the next best place to troll. Not 10 minutes later a shape exploded from the depths to take one of the ballyhoo in his mouth and the fight was on. I jumped into position, steadied my rod and reeled for all I was worth. My fight became an interpretive dance of ups and downs, sashays to the left and right, and twists and turns as the mates reeled in all the baits and I did as instructed to stay out of their way while battling to keep the sailfish on the line. I managed to do all of this and got the fish to the boat after a short 11-minute fight. My first catch in Guatemala measured just over eight feet in length and tipped the scales at 70-some-odd pounds. In short, it was almost the exact size as my son’s. Truth be told I would have thought it was the same fish as my son’s had we not moved several miles away from where Barrett landed his.
Author’s Note: All sailfish look alike. At least to me.
We got some photos of my trophy, then released it back into the sea and began trolling once more. We were 15 minutes with no luck when we came to a stop next to a log floating in the swells. The telephone pole-sized trunk was a flurry of activity. Two seagulls perched upon it, a multitude of small fish darted under and around it, and a manhole cover-sized sea turtle seemed to be resting next to it. Jose quickly tossed what looked like Christmas tree lights underneath it and immediately reeled in two plate-sized tuna and a one-and-a-half-foot long dorado. The mate said something in Spanish about making a snack and headed to the galley. We got underway once more and soon had another sailfish on the line. It took Barrett roughly 20 minutes to land what would be an 80-pound-plus sailfish. The guides asked Barrett if he wanted to get in the water with the fish for pictures before releasing it and my son literally jumped at the chance by diving into the water. Barrett held the tired fish for a few moments then helped it swim to the depths. Barrett climbed aboard then asked the mates if the fish could have stabbed him with its sword-like bill.
“Yeah. Sure. They can to stab you through chest,” Raccoon answered.
Good to know.
Captain Hole studied the area then declared we were heading elsewhere to continue fishing. Raccoon took the opportunity to serve Barrett and me freshly cut sashimi tuna and dorado with soy and jalapeño and some ice-cold beers. Barrett reluctantly tried the raw fish (even at his age, he’s still a finicky eater—at least in front of his father) and declared it absolutely fantastic.
Barrett and I each landed another sailfish—both around 70 pounds—before returning to the lodge around 3:30. There we hung out in the pool and enjoyed a few cocktails and beers while talking to other clients who all caught more fish than we did but probably didn’t have as much fun as us. And they certainly didn’t experience the enjoyment of watching their young adult son thrive during his first ever deep sea fishing trip. This thought was ruined by my son suddenly telling me of his girlfriend’s strong desire to have a child and of his thoughts on never going back to college. It was at that point that I switched from beer to something much stronger.
Day two found Barrett and me meeting our two new mates. We were on the same boat and had the same captain, but we would now be looked after and instructed by David and Boomba. After introductions, the mates gave Barrett and me each an early morning beer and made sure we were comfortable for the journey ahead (Barrett had come to accept and enjoy early morning beers). Captain Hoel piloted us two hours from shore to just over an area known as the Dropoff. The Mijooo slowed to a troll and the mates positioned our fake squid and dead ballyhoo to drag behind us. We dragged these for no less than a half hour when a sailfish rocketed from the depths to attack the bait. Barrett rushed forward to grab the rod and began fighting for all he was worth. The sail on the other end breached three times in an effort to escape, but each time remained in the fight. Barrett got him into the boat just in time for the line to snap.
“No hooked. Line round bill,” Boomba explained in broken English.
The baits went back out again, and Barrett was soon fighting what he was sure was a dead weight to the boat. That dead weight turned out to be a 20-pound Pacific bluefin tuna. Boomba gaffed the fish, pulled it aboard, then declared that they were more difficult to land than were sailfish or even marlin. When Barrett asked why this was, Boomba thought for a moment, then replied, “cuz they tuna.”
That answer worked for me, even though I suspected there was a science behind the real reason. I soon got to experience that science myself when it was my turn up to bat. The boat had apparently trolled into a school of tuna, and it was my turn to fight. It took 25 minutes of muscle strain, cursing, and sheer determination to pull from the depths what would turn out to be an 80-pound monster. Barrett was hot on my heels with another tuna that tipped the scales at just over 30 pounds. I followed that by landing a 35-pound tuna.
Captain Hoel declared it time to move again, and Barrett and I collapsed to the deck to slam a few cold and well-deserved congratulatory beers. We watched David filet our tuna, then listened as he told of being mate on a boat that landed a 450-pound tuna from the same waters. It took five hours to land David assured us. Barrett and I had no trouble believing him given our struggle to land the small tuna we had hooked. David took some of the freshly filleted tuna to the galley and soon returned with sashimi. Barrett dived into his new favorite food and all but cleaned the plate.
Captain Hoel reached an area he felt was worth trying and the baits soon went back in the drink. We trolled for maybe 15 minutes before Barrett fought an 80-something-pound sailfish to the boat. A half hour later we were both reeling in sailfish as we hooked two at the same time. Barrett’s ended up pushing 90 pounds while mine proved to be the biggest of the trip. That behemoth weighed over 115 pounds and measured just shy of 11 feet in length. He wasn’t the heaviest fish I’d ever caught but was by far the longest. Barrett and I ended our last day of fishing by each landing a few more sailfish and several more tuna. We made it back to the lodge sunburned, exhausted, and feeling absolutely great about our day.
Barrett and I cleaned up then headed down to the bar for a few beers and to hear how the other clients did. All did great and stories were shared over drinks and cigars, then dinner, then over more drinks and a few more cigars. It was a great end to what had been a fantastic two days of fishing with Blue Bayou and cemented as proof why owner Chris Starr says that 70% of business is return clients. I’d also had a great time with my son but came to understand that we have different ideas about what his future should look like. Fortunately, we both agreed that Barrett’s fishing lessons went well and that we should fish Guatemala again … soon.
To book your own saltwater angling adventure, visit FE Outrider.
The post Breakfast Beers & Battles in Guatemala appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
“What?! Drink a beer at 7 a.m.?!?”
My son’s question and the shock in which he delivered it told me he had a lot to learn about deep sea fishing. Good thing I brought him to Iztapa, Guatemala, for lessons.
Known for its deep water, calm seas, and as the home of the world’s best sailfishing, Guatemala has long been the best kept secret in sport fishing. And since my son needed schooling on all the aforementioned, I booked a trip with Blue Bayou Guatemala. After a short flight from the states my 21-year-old son Barrett and I landed at La Aurora International Airport in Guatemala City. We quickly cleared customs (thank God we cut in front of all those missionaries and teen church groups). Then we ventured outside the terminal to find Blue Bayou Owner Chris Starr in his well-appointed truck complete with a cooler of beer ready to ferry us the short two and a half hours to his lodge in the Pacific Coastal town of Iztapa. Along the way Chris told us of how he came to Guatemala.
After marrying his college sweetheart and spending a few years toiling away in the Detroit auto industry, Chris decided to head south to learn more about his Guatemalan wife’s family. One thing he discovered was that his brother-in-law, Kiki, loved fishing and that there was a void in the offshore industry. “No one had a lower end, affordable deep sea fishing boutique-type operation. Kiki and I wanted to start something that wouldn’t break the bank for clients, something where people could come back on a yearly basis.”
And so was born Blue Bayou.
Cocktails and Breakfast Beers
Chris delivered us to the lodge just in time for cocktail hour. The eight-bedroom lodge was spacious, situated in an upper-end gated community and featured a pool, hot tub and outdoor dining and a bar. It was at the latter where Barrett and I spent most of our evening, indulging in local cocktails, becoming familiar with the outstanding staff, and meeting the other guests. We topped this off with grilled steaks for dinner followed by cigars under a star-filled sky.
Following breakfast the next morning, Chris drove his guests the short distance to the docks where we all climbed aboard our assigned boats. Barrett and I were to fish off the Mijooo, a 31-foot Bertram run by Captain Hoel and his two mates.
“I Raccoon,” the first mate introduced himself.
“Raccoon like Mapache?” I replied.
“Si. Mapache. You speak Spanish?”
“Not really.”
“You no speak Spanish but know word for Raccoon?”
“Yeah. I’m odd like that.”
Raccoon agreed then introduced the other mate, Jose, and we cast off.
We were just past the breakers when Raccoon offered up an early morning beer. I explained to my son that drinking beer at seven was not only permissible on offshore fishing trips but encouraged. Barrett agreed and we toasted our day with a couple of ice cold Gallos. A few beers and less than an hour and a half later, the Mijooo was trolling prime waters of 8,000 feet deep. And not 10 minutes after the baits were out, we had a strike. Raccoon grabbed my son and patiently guided him through how to land a monster sailfish.
“Reel! Reel! Reel! You know to stop reel! Reel! Reel!”
Third Time’s a Charm
Barrett did as instructed (or was screamed at) only to have his first potential sailfish break off just at the boat. The mates assured Barrett he’d done everything correctly, then had him reeling in another sail just 20 minutes later. Unfortunately, this one broke off at the last moment as well, but not before giving Barrett a view at some spectacular aerobatics as the fish breached completely out of the water three separate times. The mates once again assured Barrett he had done nothing wrong and quickly put him on a third sailfish. Barrett landed this third attempt after a mere 10 minutes of backbreaking and muscle strain. My son’s first deep sea fish carried an estimated 70 pounds of weight and measured just over eight feet. Barrett was ecstatic with his catch … until he talked to Raccoon about it.
“That a good one?” Barrett asked.
“Yeah. It good.”
“What’s the biggest you ever helped land?”
“Oh. More twice that weight. Maybe 160 pounds.”
Barrett took on a look of defeat.
Raccoon responded accordingly.
“Your next one might to be bigger. Let’s try!”
Captain Hoel lowered the throttle and quickly transported us to the next best place to troll. Not 10 minutes later a shape exploded from the depths to take one of the ballyhoo in his mouth and the fight was on. I jumped into position, steadied my rod and reeled for all I was worth. My fight became an interpretive dance of ups and downs, sashays to the left and right, and twists and turns as the mates reeled in all the baits and I did as instructed to stay out of their way while battling to keep the sailfish on the line. I managed to do all of this and got the fish to the boat after a short 11-minute fight. My first catch in Guatemala measured just over eight feet in length and tipped the scales at 70-some-odd pounds. In short, it was almost the exact size as my son’s. Truth be told I would have thought it was the same fish as my son’s had we not moved several miles away from where Barrett landed his.
Author’s Note: All sailfish look alike. At least to me.
We got some photos of my trophy, then released it back into the sea and began trolling once more. We were 15 minutes with no luck when we came to a stop next to a log floating in the swells. The telephone pole-sized trunk was a flurry of activity. Two seagulls perched upon it, a multitude of small fish darted under and around it, and a manhole cover-sized sea turtle seemed to be resting next to it. Jose quickly tossed what looked like Christmas tree lights underneath it and immediately reeled in two plate-sized tuna and a one-and-a-half-foot long dorado. The mate said something in Spanish about making a snack and headed to the galley. We got underway once more and soon had another sailfish on the line. It took Barrett roughly 20 minutes to land what would be an 80-pound-plus sailfish. The guides asked Barrett if he wanted to get in the water with the fish for pictures before releasing it and my son literally jumped at the chance by diving into the water. Barrett held the tired fish for a few moments then helped it swim to the depths. Barrett climbed aboard then asked the mates if the fish could have stabbed him with its sword-like bill.
“Yeah. Sure. They can to stab you through chest,” Raccoon answered.
Good to know.
Captain Hole studied the area then declared we were heading elsewhere to continue fishing. Raccoon took the opportunity to serve Barrett and me freshly cut sashimi tuna and dorado with soy and jalapeño and some ice-cold beers. Barrett reluctantly tried the raw fish (even at his age, he’s still a finicky eater—at least in front of his father) and declared it absolutely fantastic.
Barrett and I each landed another sailfish—both around 70 pounds—before returning to the lodge around 3:30. There we hung out in the pool and enjoyed a few cocktails and beers while talking to other clients who all caught more fish than we did but probably didn’t have as much fun as us. And they certainly didn’t experience the enjoyment of watching their young adult son thrive during his first ever deep sea fishing trip. This thought was ruined by my son suddenly telling me of his girlfriend’s strong desire to have a child and of his thoughts on never going back to college. It was at that point that I switched from beer to something much stronger.
Day 2
Day two found Barrett and me meeting our two new mates. We were on the same boat and had the same captain, but we would now be looked after and instructed by David and Boomba. After introductions, the mates gave Barrett and me each an early morning beer and made sure we were comfortable for the journey ahead (Barrett had come to accept and enjoy early morning beers). Captain Hoel piloted us two hours from shore to just over an area known as the Dropoff. The Mijooo slowed to a troll and the mates positioned our fake squid and dead ballyhoo to drag behind us. We dragged these for no less than a half hour when a sailfish rocketed from the depths to attack the bait. Barrett rushed forward to grab the rod and began fighting for all he was worth. The sail on the other end breached three times in an effort to escape, but each time remained in the fight. Barrett got him into the boat just in time for the line to snap.
“No hooked. Line round bill,” Boomba explained in broken English.
The baits went back out again, and Barrett was soon fighting what he was sure was a dead weight to the boat. That dead weight turned out to be a 20-pound Pacific bluefin tuna. Boomba gaffed the fish, pulled it aboard, then declared that they were more difficult to land than were sailfish or even marlin. When Barrett asked why this was, Boomba thought for a moment, then replied, “cuz they tuna.”
That answer worked for me, even though I suspected there was a science behind the real reason. I soon got to experience that science myself when it was my turn up to bat. The boat had apparently trolled into a school of tuna, and it was my turn to fight. It took 25 minutes of muscle strain, cursing, and sheer determination to pull from the depths what would turn out to be an 80-pound monster. Barrett was hot on my heels with another tuna that tipped the scales at just over 30 pounds. I followed that by landing a 35-pound tuna.
Final Battles
Captain Hoel declared it time to move again, and Barrett and I collapsed to the deck to slam a few cold and well-deserved congratulatory beers. We watched David filet our tuna, then listened as he told of being mate on a boat that landed a 450-pound tuna from the same waters. It took five hours to land David assured us. Barrett and I had no trouble believing him given our struggle to land the small tuna we had hooked. David took some of the freshly filleted tuna to the galley and soon returned with sashimi. Barrett dived into his new favorite food and all but cleaned the plate.
Captain Hoel reached an area he felt was worth trying and the baits soon went back in the drink. We trolled for maybe 15 minutes before Barrett fought an 80-something-pound sailfish to the boat. A half hour later we were both reeling in sailfish as we hooked two at the same time. Barrett’s ended up pushing 90 pounds while mine proved to be the biggest of the trip. That behemoth weighed over 115 pounds and measured just shy of 11 feet in length. He wasn’t the heaviest fish I’d ever caught but was by far the longest. Barrett and I ended our last day of fishing by each landing a few more sailfish and several more tuna. We made it back to the lodge sunburned, exhausted, and feeling absolutely great about our day.
Barrett and I cleaned up then headed down to the bar for a few beers and to hear how the other clients did. All did great and stories were shared over drinks and cigars, then dinner, then over more drinks and a few more cigars. It was a great end to what had been a fantastic two days of fishing with Blue Bayou and cemented as proof why owner Chris Starr says that 70% of business is return clients. I’d also had a great time with my son but came to understand that we have different ideas about what his future should look like. Fortunately, we both agreed that Barrett’s fishing lessons went well and that we should fish Guatemala again … soon.
To book your own saltwater angling adventure, visit FE Outrider.
The post Breakfast Beers & Battles in Guatemala appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
