One of the most remarkable experiences that made this wedding trip one to remember (besides our glorious wedding and the fun times we had with all our friends and family, of course!) was our deep sea sports-fishing excursion on the Monday after the wedding. Lauren opted to give up her spot on the boat to stay at the resort and see off family and friends, most of whom were flying home that day. Cousin Karin gladly stepped in to partake in our little adventure. And what an adventure it was.
Shane, Kyle, Karin and myself met our 28-foot charter at 7 AM at the Cabo San Lucas marina. We were greeted by the captain of the boat and his assistant, who prepared us by saying that the group from the previous day caught nothing at all. Little did we know that by the end of the day, we would have come close to setting a record for that boat. Without wasting any time, we set out to go chase some seemingly hard-to-catch marlin.
The ride on the Sea of Cortez around the tall, rocky cliffs of Lover's Beach was bumpy, to say the least. The waves were choppy--and not small. By the time we had reached the Pacific side of the Baja, I was seriously regretting getting up at 5:30 AM up to taunt death on some rinky-dink Mexican charter... especially since we were probably going to catch nothing but seaweed. The ride along the Baja coastline was not much better.
The boat was skimming huge swells while racing ahead of several other charters heading in the same direction. Every now and then, we would ramp against a big wave and the bottom of the boat would slam down hard against another. The four of us held on for dear life as the sea mist sprayed our faces. As I watched Karin staring at the trail of froth behind us, I thought about how much Lauren would have hated being there right then. It's funny how some things work out, I smiled to myself. But Karin was a trooper. It runs in the blood, you see!
To keep my mind off the discomfort and a possible looming doom, I watched the beach next to us grow smaller and smaller. After a while we could no longer see any sign of civilization. No buildings, no powerlines. Nothing but pure, untouched Baja coastline.
An hour and forty-five minutes later the boat slowed down. We could no longer see land. A few other charters were already there, idling around in what must have been the central fishing area where we'd have our best shot at reeling in something. Other "tourists" in other boats around us had their lines in the water already. Nobody seemed to be catching anything. Pedro, our boat guy, put two lines out. Twenty seconds later, there was a bite on one line, and Karin got a shot at reeling in her catch... which turned out to be a beautiful 3-foot mahi-mahi (see the pictures).
Then, the captain of the boat got a radio message that the marlin were biting nearby. He kicked the boat into high gear, and off we went. Five minutes later, we slowed down again and Pedro put the lines out. There were one or two other boats in the area, and they seemed to be frantically reeling in something or another. Then we saw it: marlin jumping! Everywhere! We saw one nearby and the boat headed that way. Pedro lifted one of the rods and the next moment, we had action! Shane was nearest the rig, so Pedro made him sit in one of the two action chairs and stuffed the rod into his hands. The excitement of Karin's quick catch earlier got dwarfed as we all watched Shane fight his fish with fierce concentration. The veins bulged in his neck as he reeled and reeled. In the distance, the marlin on the end of Shane's line broke the surface of the water, jumping straight up and out. Again and again. I snapped pictures, trying to get clear shots of flying marlin while trying not to lose my balance from the boat's rocking. Thirty minutes later, Pedro lifted Shane's shiny prize by its bill. "Catch and release," he said. He lifted the fish onto the back of the boat and got Shane to hold it while I scrambled to take a picture of what would surely be our only marlin of the day. How wrong could I have been.
The marlin were jumping all around us. Every ten seconds we would see one jump out of the surf, often as high as seven or eight feet, clear out of the water. My camera fingers worked overtime. Kyle got his chance next. He almost gave up thirty minutes into reeling. His face was drenched in sweat and we could tell he had little strength left. That's where I thought that my thousands of hours at the gym would pay off--surely I won't get that fatigued from trying to reel in one little fishy. Wrong again! After Kyle finally pulled his catch close enough for Pedro to get it onto the boat for a picture, I got my shot at proving myself.
I don't think I have ever had such a workout. My forearms went limp and my reeling hand's fingers were numb. I suddenly knew what Kyle was going through. That sucker of a marlin fought for dear life not to become somebody's dinner. It went on forever, it seemed. Then, somebody yelled "whale!" I saw it. Next to the boat, about thirty yards to the left and parallel to the boat, a huge span of water was devoid of ripples or waves. It looked like an oil-spill, but it was a huge blue whale swimming in the opposite direction to where we were going. It rolled its back out of the water and we all stood in awe. And then I saw my line head off towards the front of the whale. Oh shit! My marlin seemed to be heading under the whale. I thought that it may become stuck under its belly, or worse even, the whale may gobble it up and yank me off the boat! I though that if the reel suddenly starts screaming, I will simply let go!
Well, my marlin never got caught, but one of the other lines got a bite. Suddenly both chairs were occupied--Karin in the one, and myself in the other. But that's not all! A third line got taken by one of the scores of marlin that were jumping around us. It was like a feeding frenzy! Shane got geared up with a harness and tasked with reeling that one. All three of us had marlin on the hook at the same time!
Ten minutes later, my fish was right at the side of the boat. Between trying to keep Shane's, Karin's, and my lines from tangling, Pedro tried to grab it to pull it onto the boat. But the line snapped and mine got away. Oh well, at least I "caught" one. Karin brought hers in next, and I got some more great pictures. Shane pulled in the biggest one yet after that--probably around 180 to 220 lbs and spanning across the entire width of the boat. It didn't stop there. Kyle got a shot at pulling in yet another one--number six, at that point.
In the meantime, clouds were welling above us. There had been talk of hurricane Henriette hitting to Cabo San Lucas later in the week. The waves were much rougher than when we got there. About 30 minutes into Kyle's struggle, the captain got a message on his radio that all boats needed to head back ASAP. He conveyed the message to us with a sense of urgency on his face. We urged Kyle to start reeling harder so that we could get out of there before the storm hit us. We still had almost two hours to get back to shore--civilized shore, that is--so who knows how bad the ride back was going to get if Kyle did not pull his baby out soon. If we could get back at all... Another message on the radio said that the harbor was closing. We all urged Kyle to reel even harder, and Pedro cut the slack on is reel. Kyle was back to swimming in perspiration. Finally, fifteen minutes later--a full 45 minutes after the line got taken--Pedro pulled Kyle's silver fish onto the boat. There is a very tired Kyle in a picture posing with his prize.
And then we headed back in a huff. The captain raced against time, and the closer we came to the rocky slopes of Lover's beach, the bigger the waves became. The sky was a dark bruise as Henriette burrowed towards us in the distance. (It wasn't until much later that night that she struck Dreams Resort head on.) Some of the swells were so big that we would find ourselves high up in the air above all the other waves the one moment, and the next we would have a wall of water all around us. Visions of the movie, The Perfect Storm came to mind. What a day to die, I thought. I just got married to the most beautiful girl in the world in a fairy-tale wedding, and witnessed a crazy day of fishing, and now am am going to die in a capsized Mexican fishing charter. What a way to go.
Exactly 90 minutes after we left the fishing area, we rolled into the marina, simultaneously relieved and elated. Pedro told us that they had never seen a day like that one, even though we didn't quite break their previous record of seven marlin in one day. Surely those seven were not caught in two and a half hours like ours, I thought. We took with us a great set of pictures, crazy memories, and half of the mahi-mahi Karin had caught. Pedro cut it into fillets and we gave the other half to the captain. A few hours later back at the hotel, we all shared a meal of the freshest mahi-mahi fillets, along with wild tales of our insane day. Incredible!