Another excellent adventure. The guys were too cheap to rent a regular fishing boat so we hired a couple of characters to take us out on the ocean for the afternoon. Bertrand(aka ‘Bait’) was a local with a little English, who owned the boat. Raymond was a Frenchman that spoke a mixture of unrecognizable Spanish and French. He owned the motor. After popping a few pills on the beach, Bertrand was ready to take us out. The boat was parked under the palm trees. I thought perhaps it was going to be used for a planter, but Dave assured me this was the boat we would be going fishing in. Our guide was late. It seems he had an accident on his motorcycle the night before. He was bruised and battered and still under the influence of the drugs and pain killers. It took 8 people to haul the boat to the water. No life jackets, no phone, no paddles, NO cerveza(beer)… seems safe enough? Bertrand spent the first part of our trip passed out on the bow of the boat in a drug induced coma (thus his nickname, Bait). We had been trolling for about an hour when Paul & Rick’s rods both bent right over. The reels were screaming. Yahoo, Fish on! Rick battled his fish for about 5 minutes when his line shot out of the water. Damn, he got away. Paul, however, continued the fight; rod doubled over; sweat pouring from his brow. Our guide finally awoke to assist in the landing of Paul’s monster. What a battle we were witnessing. Paul was actually pulling so hard the boat was going backwards. ‘Holy crap’, Paul said, ‘this must be huge!’ Raymond (the psychotic Frenchman) looked over the side, gaff in hand and pronounced, “it’s a Cock.” ‘A cock,’ we thought? ‘Some kind of new exotic BIG fish we had never heard of?’ No, “el Rocko,” Raymond tried again to explain in English. ‘Must be REALLY big to be an ‘el’ something,’ we thought. Translate to English and we get “it’s a rock!” Paul had fought a huge rock for the past 15 minutes. What a fight! Shortly after the epic battle where Paul caught his rock, the water cooler on the motor failed. Perfect! 100 yards off a reef with 30ft waves (??? remember the author is a fisherman???) no motor, no paddles, no life jackets and NO cerveza. Fortunately the tool kit was lying in the bottom of the boat. It consisted of a pair of wire cutters, an old fish hook and a piece of broken fishing line. We managed to unplug the line and motored out to sea. We spotted several fish jumping further ahead and shortly the reels started to scream again. Rick had hooked something big and it wasn’t a rock. It lifted him out of his seat. He set the drag on the reel. Wow! Now we had a big one on. NOT! The line snapped, broken off at the lure. The line was shredded and we had to take off about 20ft of line ‘cause it was all chewed up. Rick, being the avid fisherman he claims, estimated this fish at well over 100lbs. We set our lines again and once more Rick and Paul had fish on. Paul’s broke off, but we managed to land Rick’s, which resembled some type of tuna. Finally! A fish in the boat. This is Raymond... Shortly after Otto got one on which he managed to bring to the boat. What a weird looking fish. Even the guide handled this one with care. Talk about teeth! By this time the sun had started to set, and we were still miles from home in rough seas and a storm approaching fast. We managed to get through the rocks on our way into the bay; completely soaked by rain and spray and in complete darkness. There were a few nervous people on board and several on shore, particularly the new bride. All in all it was a great day. Next time we’re going to ignore Dave and take Cerveza (beer) on board.
Story by Rick Hopkins