The Feral Children of Playa EL Coyote

[Joel.B]

My earliest, fondest memories were Hecho en Mexico. Baja- late 70's all through the 80's I was the travel companion to a crazy woman who at times would claim to be my mother, sometimes my big sister...  Her complete lack of vigilance for my safety and well-being was absolutely fantastic once we were south of the border. On U.S soil the chaos was a bit much so I mostly lived with Grandma which was for the best. Coming home from school and seeing the crazy station wagon in the drive meant the she was home from wherever/whenever and it was a bad feeling for me but at least a few times a year she would have a big crazy fight with Grandma and take me away for sometimes months at time, to Baja. Baja washed away all of the chaos, the insanity, the neglect, the abuse, the deficits... it was a magical place in a golden time.

From Rosarito to Todos Santos I had constant adventures.  At that time there were many "free spirited" types of people who would take their kids out of school for a time and travel. Every where we camped had large groups of kids of all ages. Those kids always divided into teams, those teams eventually had to fight. I myself captained derelict ghost ships on the shores of San Felipe winning great battles against the other derelict ships with  inferior child captains. Great Rock fights were fought from whale-bone fortress of San Quintin, we fought over caves in cliffs of Puerto Nuevo or whatever ramparts we could construct in the dunes of Guerrero Negro. 

At Playa El Coyote on Bahia Concepcion when it was just another beach to camp with no structures to be seen, at midway of the beach there was a "forest" of trees behind the sandy area in which we camped . The kids camped to the north of the forest naturally formed into one army and we southerners of course needed to organize accordingly to match the show of aggression. In the forest we constructed A complex of tree forts connect by ropes and branches and whatever other random flotsam we could find and some of the locals with some decent palapala-building skills showed us how to weave palm fronds. The result was glorious. It was never finished as somebody was always bringing something new to add here or there and when somebody left camp there was always extra stuff to loot. The only no-no was repurposing materials from existing Palapalas on the beach and we still did that anyway because we felt as entitled to our fort as they did to their shade structure on the sand. There was a bit of a back/forth of materials when a deconstructed Palapala was discovered somebody usually came to the fort to take back what was needed- it was during one of these reacquisition missions that an adult raiding party discovered items and behaviors in our tree complex that would put a damper on our activities for a bit, at least until a fresh batch of campers who didn't know any better could come through and we could start up again.

The final bit of freedoms that doomed our fortress for good was not a great battle, no. It was when the naughty oldest girl who stole a moms cigarettes and tried to make a deal with some of us not to tell by revealing certain things to a large group of us younger boys and when she did reveal certain things one of us fell out of a tree and the rest ran away as fast as they could screaming at what they had seen. Next thing I knew the whole complex was taken down and all of the materials were in a bonfire.

The next year we camped at Requeson, had to drive past Coyote to get down there and it broke my little heart because you could see that forest and I saw kids swarming around it as we drove by. But At Requeson I had my own Island, and if you wanted to cross the spit onto my island you had to pay, or die...   

[rogan]

Joel, Gen X remains the best childhood in history. Thanks for the sharing, and making it into an excellent story. My Gen X childhood is more tame, but still full of adventures and independence.

[oldmanjoe]

      Baby boomers for the win !

[Gfish]

Yeah, but I think it's progressive in a reverse way. My parents, aunt/uncles had wild life stories about the 20's, 30's and 40's.

[steelfish]

Joel, you could write a book a sell the copyrights to make a movie, I could see every single thing your wrote down as if it was a 80's movie

[Joel.B]

Joel, you could write a book a sell the copyrights to make a movie, I could see every single thing your wrote down as if it was a 80's movie

My memory is starting to sputter out along with other things, My doc has encouraged me to put some words down for more than a few reasons.   I have been sitting around with broken ankle and free time, thought I would clack out some relevant memories. Alex If you were around San Felipe at same time you may remember all of the old trawlers and such abandoned along that one stretch of shore. For a kid there was no better time than the pirates life aboard those magnificent ships.  I can still smell them.


Once while camping at Bahia Los Angeles I found an very early version of a windsurf board. I was the OG SUP (stand up paddleboard) kid, with a piece of palm for a paddle I fished that thing all the way to Mulege (not in one float, she drove us down in chunks and we camped along the way for weeks at a time at different playas). 

While fishing on my beloved board around one of those little islands off of Playa Coyote, in Concepcion, I was greeted by a pod of very curious Orcas.  Though in my mind at the time it was a very hungry greeting and I was sure I was to be food so it was terrifying. I sat as tightly in what I thought to be very center of my board with knees drawn into my chest and just watched in terror as these magnificent creatures went under and around me taking me in with giant eyes.  In what seemed like days but was probably a few minutes at most- they were gone. I couldn't stand up, I couldn't even dip a hand into the water, my paddle had floated off somewhere and I did not care. I held tight in my position until wind blew me close enough to the island to jump for it and I think I Scooby-Doo'd across that  last 8 or so feet of water  to the shore. As I turned to look to make sure no whales were charging up on land to get me I could see my precious board drifting away atop the clear green Concepcion. I sat atop the rock and watched it until I couldn't see it anymore. Luckily a sail boat  soon came close to the island to take a photo and saw me alone sitting there quietly on the rocks and thought they should ask if I was OK.

On the sailboat while munching a PBJ  I told them my experience the man said he did not think Orca would be in Sea of Cortez but maybe it was the large Porpoise or even false-NO MISTER I KNOW WHAT AN ORCA IS IM PRETTY MUCH A MARINE BIOLOGIST BY NOW OK and back in camp nobody else believed me either. A week later while packing the wagon to leave camp there was chaos all along the playa because a pod of Orcas was frolicking just off edge of the flats. I wanted to wait before we drove off for people to come and tell me "hey kid you were right, those were Orcas, you weren't just afraid of dolphins or whatever" but we left as all the people were still standing on the playa watching the Orcas and I never saw my paddle board again.

[Dominick]

Cool Story Joel.  Dominick

[steelfish]

Alex If you were around San Felipe at same time you may remember all of the old trawlers and such abandoned along that one stretch of shore. For a kid there was no better time than the pirates life aboard those magnificent ships.  I can still smell them.

Im not native of San felipe, so, I wasnt here during 70's or 80's, I have been around san felipe since 1998, but I must say I do remember some of those abandoned old trawlers on the shore there were 3 of them back when I just arrived to San Felipe in 1998, so, I can really picture you and your boys playing the pirates life on them.

some years ago one those old boats was painted by a local artist to give it a colorful and dramatic/scenically effect and make them a visit spot for tourists for pictures. I think I have some pictures of those, after some years they were pretty badly corroded and rotten and became dangerous because some persons liked to climb on them to have some pictures up in the deck of the boat so, they were taken away few years ago.

While fishing on my beloved board around one of those little islands off of Playa Coyote, in Concepcion, I was greeted by a pod of very curious Orcas.

On the sailboat while munching a PBJ  I told them my experience the man said he did not think Orca would be in Sea of Cortez but maybe it was the large Porpoise or even false-NO MISTER I KNOW WHAT AN ORCA IS IM PRETTY MUCH A MARINE BIOLOGIST BY NOW OK and back in camp nobody else believed me either. A week later while packing the wagon to leave camp there was chaos all along the playa because a pod of Orcas was frolicking just off edge of the flats. I wanted to wait before we drove off for people to come and tell me "hey kid you were right, those were Orcas, you weren't just afraid of dolphins or whatever" but we left as all the people were still standing on the playa watching the Orcas and I never saw my paddle board again.

Orcas have been a normal visitor of North of Sea of Cortez since always, heck, have you ever heard about "punta Bufeo" camping area?
old fishermen used to call "BUFEO" to Orcas and it was kinda normal to see a school of Orcas on that zone of GOnzaga Bay, so the owner of the land named the "new tourist camping area" Punta Bufeo, currently is not normal to spot a School of Orcas on San felipe or Gonzaga Bay but from time to time we can see a video from commercial fishermen that saw some swimming across this areas.


I found some pictures I took of those old boats, the STOCK photos were found on the web and maybe are related to the dates of your adventures, the new ones were taken by me on 2016

[oldmanjoe]

  Keep writing  . I do enjoy your tales . I only wish I could write as well !!

[Joel.B]

Ay Chingada that is my Armada! Alex! Oh my word! There were indeed more, some were just rotting steel hulks back then so I can imagine they are gone now. I see somebody painted a Zissou unto that one, how appropriate.   The mayor of San Felipe lived not far from that spot, his name was also Alex.  After a day of playing in the mudflats at low tide with his kids I would look like a mini-mudman and Alex  would wash all that mud off me before my mom could see me so I wouldn't get in trouble. I would stand in a washtub in the garden and he would pour water over me with a bucket while his wife swooshed it up around me. Then they would feed me, walk me back to my camp. I felt very important.

Joe I should tell you a story I don't share with fishermen because most didn't believe it and just made me feel bad about it so I preferred to keep it to myself.

If you look at Bahia De Concepcion on a map, (Sat map these days) you can see all those pretty playas, all of them bordered by rocks at either end. Some of the playas are just little coves of white sand among the black rocks. My morning routine every day was rise before the sun (this routine led to me once  unwittingly witnessing a space shuttle reentry, really blew my little mind) grab my gear and make my way up/down the playa to the rocks while wading through the shallows looking for whatever treasures or creatures had not yet retreated  back into the depths. I had my first "saltwater rod", a 6' solid glass spinning jobber with wood butt, stiff as heck, missing guides. Daiwa something or other reel in bad shape, maybe half a spool of some very crusty line. It wasn't going to win any cast competitions but let me tell you I was accurate within 20'.  I had one lure, my most prized and sacred possession. A big heavy Krocodile spoon in chrome with orange stripe that John Sinatra (no relation to Frank) from Elsinore had given me a few days earlier when he left. Altogether I only knew John for about a week or so of my young life but I think I could write volumes about him- a real grumpy grouch of an old man that nobody else on the beach liked but he never once left to fish in his boat without me if he saw me running toward with my gear.
 
Pete was A blonde pelican with a bad foot and was my companion at times as I often fed him fish I didn't want or the scraps of the fish I cleaned and so sometimes he was outside my pup-tent in the morning waiting for me and he would follow me to go fishing. I think Petey had other people he hung out with because I only saw him a few times a week, felt like he was making the rounds. I wanted to believe he was my friend but he was actually kind of jerk and only wanted my fish and was aggressive about it so Petey made it hard to get the closeness I wanted with him.

 One particularly average pristine winter morning, just after Christmas,  Pete and I fished from the rocks at the West end of the North face of Playa Requeson.  Small Cabrilla, Snapper, Pargos all tricked by Johnny Sinatra's deadly Krocodile. Petey looking at me hurt and confused as I released the small fishes back into the water and not into his bucket of an open waiting mouth. I never fed to Pete the fish I wanted to grow bigger and I think Pete resented me for that. Pete got to eat Needlefish, Machete, Mackerel etc. Pete and I were having our typical one-sided conversation, probably about fishing, when Pete came to life and became very animated focusing at something in the water just under the surface coming at us from a good distance. All I could see was that the water was disturbed and something was coming towards us quickly like a torpedo and Pete wanted it so it must be a fish. A big one. The Krocodile was launched, over and over at the incoming attacker but with no effect until at last I could see, it WAS fish. It was BIG fish. It was TWO big fish. It was two big DORADO (aka Dolphin, Mahi). The pair swam straight toward me and then took a hard left at the rocks and swam along the rocky shore until it became sand and then swam along the sandy shoreline all the way to the other rocky shore and then back out to the dark depths of the bay. As they swam their route I ran along side them the whole way launching that Krocodile, slapping the water  in frantic desperation and never once did they ever even acknowledge its existence or even my own. I ran along side them on the sand only a few feet from where they swam side by side, helpless to do anything like in a bad dream. All the while Petey hopping and a running and flapping along side me and when they were gone he just looked at me like I was a useless idiot but I yelled at him "You didn't get them either you jerk!" and then Pete flew way in what I think was disgust and I didnt blame him. Back out to the point I went, alone and defeated I made a few casts and I caught a decent Pargo, big enough to eat and as I was trying to get the big treble hook out  the Dorados came back, but the one seemed bigger this time, much bigger blocky head I was sure. They were swimming same route as before. My lure was pretty well stuck deep in a toothy Pargo mouth and needed pliers I didn't have. I had no other thing to tie on to cast. All I could do was frantically wiggle that lure in the Pargos mouth as I ran, hoping it came out in time to make some casts that I knew wouldn't matter- so I as I was running along side the pair of Dodos I dropped my fish and my rig and paced myself next to the pair of swimming fish and before they could reach end of the playa again I jumped into the water over top of the biggest one and grabbed around it with both hands, hands instantly slipped down to the tail and I just gator-rolled with it up the few feet to the shore unto the sand as far as I could as it beat the everloving snot out of me. About a 40# bull Dorado. There used to be a photo and the fish was pretty much as long as me. I yelled as loud as I could nonstop until I was surrounded by peoples. A German man who was camping closer to end of beach witnessed what I did and actually told me I should let the fish go because what I did was not very sporting.  Another man then threatened to beat up that man. Later that night I remembered to go back out and look for my rod, which I luckily found tangled in the rocks, but the Pargo and Johnny Sinatra's Deadly Krocodile was gone. I suspected Pete.

The few times a tried to relate the story to fishermen who know that Dorado don't frequent anywhere near there that time of year nor go close to shore like that- also had  hard time believing that anybody, let alone a small child, could catch a dorado with his bare hands.    A local panguero told me that sometimes tropical winter storms push warm waters into the Cortez and the Dorados will go up at odd times, and then their breeding cycle will get activated and then they do odd things at odd times, then water temps drop to normal and they become vulnerable because they don't feel good and are trapped in a bay or somewhere with bad conditions and they cant even think right to get back to where they need to be.  So maybe that German man was right? Regardless that fish was grilled over hot coals with only lime and salt and everybody from the camp, (maybe 50 people?) just grabbed hunks of it with warm soft fresh tortillas and stood around munching on it while somebody played guitar and some other folks sang, and most everybody gave me a pat on the back or mussed my hair or had questions for me that night. I was really happy but I also really wished John from Elsinore was still there.   

[steelfish]

Regardless that fish was grilled over hot coals with only lime and salt and everybody from the camp, (maybe 50 people?) just grabbed hunks of it with warm soft fresh tortillas and stood around munching on it..

ooh boy oh boy !! I can even smell the fresh and still on the coals/grill "pescado Sarandeado". I dont know if its normal in other parts of the world to eat a whole fish like that but thats pretty normal in Baja and the rest of Mexico, as I said before, I can imagine the whole story as if I seeing it specially that part of people gathering around a big fish on the fire and taking pieces of it with a warm tortilla, not with a fork or knife but put the tortilla directly to the fish and just grab it in a closing motion with a hunk of meat, I can said I had done that plenty of times with friends and family with a big yellowtail or big WSB (white seabass).


I put the quoted sentence from your story on Google and check what description gave me

[jurelometer]

The few times a tried to relate the story to fishermen who know that Dorado don't frequent anywhere near there that time of year nor go close to shore like that- also had  hard time believing that anybody, let alone a small child, could catch a dorado with his bare hands. 

In that part of the Sea of Cortez, starting later in the fall when the water starts getting cold, it is not unusual to see the odd stray dorado or two (rarely three, and never a school), cruising tight to the shore.  They are a bit lethargic and are harder to get to eat a lure or fly (or even a bait) this time of year.  You usually get only one shot at most before lockjaw sets in.  It will go on like this until the water warms up around May to June, depending on where you are.  They are also around in shallow spots where the water can be a bit warmer. 

For example, last April in Loreto, we saw two singles tight to the beach (no-eats), and on most days, one or two in the warmer sections about a half mile off the beaches.  These guys wouldn't eat a fly, would occasionally hit a lure, and would eat a live bait about half the time.

Dorado have a strong preference to only migrate/move within a fairly narrow temperature band.  I suspect that these winter fish are stragglers that got trapped.  The water is warm enough for them to survive if they conserve energy, but it is not warm enough for their metabolism to be efficient enough to allow them to move out of the area.  There is also a related, but slightly different set of behaviors for inbound migration on cold water years.

There is an excellent paper on satellite tagging of dorado movements and water temperatures.  I referenced it in another thread here.  If I find it again- I will post.

Great story, BTW!  The part about successfully jumping a big dorado is the most amazing.  I heard that inshore fishing for pargo and cabrilla was very good in Bahia Concepcion back in the day.  That must have been quite an adventure. 

-J

[Joel.B]

J- I wonder if what the old panguero was probably trying to tell me, in dumbed down Spanish directed at me, in his own way, was more or less what the study you shared is saying?

Yep, All of Baja Sur was pretty danged good fishing back then and Concepcion was no exception. All of the terrifyingly toothy yet tasty inshore bullies infested all of those volcanic rocks in massive swarms. Worst thing for a me was I had no gear to handle them and was constantly losing my $%!+ both literally and figuratively. I had precious little S%!+ to lose and it was of very low quality and strength. Pargo, Cabrillas, the various Groupers, Triggers, Snappers, Sierra- they all stole or busted my S%!+.

Around same time Mag Bay,  Estero Coyote, La Bocana, parts of San Ignacio and Datil were actually far better. Was a safari to get there but was unbelievable really. Lagoons choked with a huge variety of massive and amazing fish.  The waters just offshore like one big foamer of all of the things you'd ever hope to catch. Reefs holding Grouper and Seabass the size of cattle under every ledge.  Those were the days.

[Dominick]

Joel, I have been fishing Los Cabos every year for more than 30 years.  The fishery has declined over the period. I usually fish in the second half of June and late October, usually good fishing times. I remember bringing 7 marlin to the boat in a half day of fishing. I had a good fishing trip this year (not like it used to be) but did have skunk days over the past 3 years.  There are too many boats taking too many fish out of the fishery. Thanks for your memories of your wasted youth.   Dominick