Stop! Don’t venture onto the water in a foul mood. It’s hazardous. Like a radio antenna, your fishing line will broadcast your agitation. If you’re lucky, nothing will pick up the call and the damage will be limited to going home with a skunk stripe decorating your back. Otherwise, as I learned one summer in Baja’s East Cape, the bad vibes are likely to summon fish to match your nasty attitude.
Where the Cortez laps the Baja shore, austere brown mountains rub against an aqua sea. The scenery is stunning and the waters teem with big fish like the sleekly powerful roosters my kayak fishing group was targeting. I noticed none of the beauty. Things weren’t going my way. As I watched other anglers catch and release trophy after trophy, the personal black cloud over my head grew large enough to cast its dark shadow over the entire party. I was about to be delivered an attitude adjustment.
I’d just trolled a live mullet across the line dividing the milky blue of a sandy bottom onto the indigo water marking a reef when the big bait was annihilated in a ferocious splash. The clicker whined as the running fish rapidly tore line off the reel. Yes! Thinking my luck had turned, I flipped the reel into gear. The fish felt heavy, but it came to the kayak too fast to be the right kind. Then I saw it.
The fish was skinny and sinuous, a good 5 feet long, with only an insubstantial dorsal fin to mar its snaky shape. The head was narrow and pointed, bird-like, no, it was crocodilian. A beady black eye caught mine. Unexpectedly the fish lunged at me, foot-long mouth open wide to reveal rows of wicked, blue-tinged snaggly teeth. Snap! The jaws viciously thrashed the water where instants earlier I’d been dangling my leg.
My paddle was slower to get out of the way, seeing as it was inanimate. I swear the fiberglass screamed as the irate fish seized the blade in its jaws. The spiky teeth ground scratches into the hard material. I imagined my leg caught in that vice-like grip.
Eventually the fish spent its fury on the inert paddle. Gingerly I hoisted the fish into the kayak for the release. I smiled in relief.
Learn from my experience. Instead of a noble roosterfish, comb crest proudly slicing the water, my black mood delivered me a giant needlefish, also known as a houndfish. Needle? Javelin would’ve been more apt. Never forget why you are out there. The point is to have fun. From now on I’ll transmit only good vibrations down the line.
