Trace Peter & Zelda's 1997 trip Outwest

Check out the 1997 Cabo Shore Fishing Report

Peter's now home from Cabo

Dispatch #26, July 4, 1998 DULUTH, MN, USA, POSTED JULY 4, 1998--Travels With Zelda—Baja Mexico has concluded. Zelda and I have returned to our humble little house on the North Shore of Lake Superior. From San Jose del Cabo at the Baja’s southernmost tip, it was a drive of eight days; eight, for the most part, uneventful days.

Dispatch #25, June 2, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MX, POSTED JUNE 2, 1998--The sun was a large, eerie, red orb, a couple degrees risen from the horizon, when the first dorado struck. It was exceptionally large and powerful, and put on a fine show of acrobatics as Paco strained to tame it. As the fluorescent fish appeared boatside, the captain began to flail his wooden club, striking the fish haphazardly on its head, nose, back, wherever it was afforded. My eyes widened at the futility of the endeavor. After several minutes the captain had successfully knocked the lure loose from the dorado and it slipped back down into the deep blue waters of the Sea of Cortez from whence it came. Captain Felipe had forgotten the gaff. We returned to shore to find one.

Dispatch #24, May 19, 1998 LA PLAYITA, BCS, MEXICO, POSTED MAY 19, 1998--Captain Carlos asked me if I was ready to take over from Marcos to grapple with one of the ocean’s most magnificent creatures. I looked at Marcos, who had been solidly planted in the plastic Corona chair for over an hour. Big drops of sweat were running down his nose and his arms and back were aching. His T-shirt was thoroughly soaked. The butt end of his fishing pole was planted firmly in the leather fish-fighting belt that he wore around his waist, while the opposite end strained toward the water, the 50-pound test line attached to what Captain Carlos figured was a 230-pound Blue Marlin. I told him I was not. It was Marcos’ fish, to bring in or lose. I would content myself to sitting in the bow, smoking a cigar, a witness to the theater.

Dispatch #23, May 13, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, POSTED MAY 13, 1998--One minute the gas gauge read three-quarters full, the next time I looked, the needle was laying flat. We were out in the desert, Julian, Zelda, and myself, along with the brothers Horaceo, Juan, and Martín. While there is no place that is actually in the middle of nowhere, we were as close to the middle of nowhere as I had been in some time.

Dispatch #22, April 23, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, POSTED APRIL 15, 1998--When camping in northern Minnesota the precaution that must be taken against black bears eating your food is to place it all in a Duluth pack and, using a rope, hoist it high into tree. Camping on a beach in the Baja one has cows to contend with. Although a cow is not apt to chase you up a tree en route to absconding with your vittles, it will never the less come into your campsite and will, despite your banging on pots and pans, eat your food, including your trash.

Dispatch #21, April 15, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, POSTED APRIL 15, 1998-- Semana Santos has passed and the town of San Jose del Cabo is back to its normal self. For the past couple days it has been a ghost town. It is somewhat of a local custom for residents to get out of town around Easter weekend. They take it serious. Prime beachfront camping sites are sometimes claimed a week ahead of time; early revelers setting up shade apparatuses and manning them with a revolving cast of sitters until the big weekend. During that three-day stretch is not an empty stretch of beach between Cabo San Lucas and La Paz.

Dispatch #20, April 8, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO

Dispatch #19, April  1, 1998 PALMILLA, BCS, MEXICO- "So you went right out and bought a new fishing pole, yeah?" Anni asked incredulously. I had, I admitted. Earlier that morning, while launching Prez Ja from Playa Palmilla, I had sat on my nine-foot shore-casting rig, snapping off the top foot and a half (the top three eyelets). Even over the phone, Anni’s surprise at the ease at which I casually plopped down 400 pesos ($50) was evident. On the other hand, when I mentioned it to Paco, he said, "Of course."

Dispatch #18, March  25, 1998 BAHIA LOS FRAILES, BCS, MEXICO- "Eighty-eight pounds, eight feet, seven inches. Fought it for four hours on 25-pound test line. Prettinear swamped the boat gettin’ it in." Merle was talking about the marlin she had recently caught. She also casually mentioned the 20-pound tuna and 20-pound wahoo that had made it into her 1997/98 fishing diary. .

Dispatch #17, March  15, 1998 PLAYA PALMILLA, SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, Warning: The following may only be of interest to those who fish. A serious tackle box is like the brain of someone who reads a lot—packed full of mostly useless stuff. In the case of me, well, of my tackle box, every separate compartment is full including the main compartment under the two levels that open before you as you lift the lid.

Dispatch #16, March  9, 1998 PLAYA PALMILLA, SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, Terry’s best fish story revolves around catching nine-inch brook trout as a kid from the creek that ran under the street, across from his house. This is from a guy who, while fishing from a little 14-foot aluminum boat three miles out on the Sea of Cortez, brought in a six-foot marlin.

Dispatch #15, March  1, 1998 PLAYA PALMILLA, SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, It was just another time love had gotten in the way of fishing. Gerardo chose the warm comfort of his new girlfriend’s bed instead of an early morning boat launch with the boys. "Ah, amor," was all Paco had to say when it became obvious that Gerardo was not where he told us he would be at 5:30 in the morning. Sure, we knew where he was, but we were five minutes from putting our boat in the water.

Dispatch #14, February 23, 1998 PLAYA PALMILLA, SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO, There are those who fish and then there are those who fish. Paco belongs to the latter. You can tell by the way he doesn’t screw up his face when I tell him to be ready by 5:30 in the morning.

Dispatch #13, February 18, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO Let us browse the bi-weekly, free Gringo Gazette— "The English Language Newspaper For Southern Baja."

Dispatch #12, February 14, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO

Dispatch #11, February 9, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO LOVE TOO MUCH. CARE TOO MUCH. HURT TOO DEEP. That was all the note said written by the woman who was hanging from the ceiling fan in her room. She checked-in late Tuesday afternoon, February 3rd.

Dispatch #10, February 6, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO

Dispatch #9, February 3, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO The cow on the highway—maybe it was an omen. Gerardo missed the cow, his purple mail jeep caroming off the pavement into the cactus. Amazingly neither he nor his three passengers, including a little baby, were seriously injured.

Dispatch #8, January 29, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO Given the chaos that surrounds a full hotel, as has been Hotel Posada Señor Mañana lately, it is understandable that Zelda would prefer a nice quiet bar in which to watch the Super Bowl. We ambled down the street to the Iguana.

Dispatch #7, January 26, 1998 SAN JOSE DEL CABO, MEXICO I picked up my guardian angel outside a Food ‘n’ Fuel in Montoya, New Mexico. She was sitting on a window ledge. I have no idea how many people had passed by her before she called out to me. I never saw her when I passed the window ledge as I entered the store to pay for my gas, and, maybe, a grapefruit juice, so perhaps she had just arrived.

Dispatch #6, January 20, 1998 SAN FRANCISCO DE LA SIERRA, BAJA CALIFORNIA SUR It was time to see just how slow this baby could go. Inches per hour. The final set of switchbacks lay ahead. The arroyo floor was now, unbelievingly, only fifty feet below.

Dispatch #5, January 15, 1998 HUERFANITO, BAJA CALIFORNIA NORTE Amazing as it seemed, Tony and Ed, who have been coming to the Baja for eight years, had never had a fish taco. So I cooked them up a few. Nothing fancy—strips of exceedingly fresh triggerfish, dipped in egg, breaded with crushed soda crackers, deep-fried, rolled up in heated flour tortillas spread with perfectly ripe avocado, seasoned with a hot sauce of choice.

Dispatch #4, January 13, 1998 HUERFANITO, BAJA CALIFORNIA NORTE This stretch of road on my map is symbolized by a unbroken double lines -- one step up from the dotted double lines, which symbolize a goat path.

Dispatch #3, January 11, 1998 SAN FELIPE, BAJA CALIFORNIA NORTE-- New Year’s Eve celebration in San Felipe."Tonight the whole world parties"— the agent in charge at the Mexican Immigration Office in San Felipe, Baja California Norte.

Dispatch #2 January 8, 1998 CALEXICO, CA-- My body no longer ached. I made every attempt at not watching the gas gauge. When the needle miraculously dropped below half, I began to pay attention

Dispatch #1 January 6, 1998 DULUTH, MN--I can picture her face right now, after the second day. Her smile will have taken on a subtle look of panic. Her panting will be labored, her eyes, a bit crazed. The passenger seat on which she has been pacing will no longer be large enough.