THE CHASE FOR MARLIN

Sailfish behaved like teased cats, catching them soon became a routine. To free up time, trans morph from a serial entrepreneur to a "recovering entrepreneur," I sold my BioTech Company to Shell Oil and seriously outplayed my Venture Capitalists who thought they were play poker with a "dumb bunny." Never play the game until you have a full house or better or your drawing to three aces.
They were focused on dilution issues they forgot that the money game is akin to the great lessons leaned from fishing. Meaning that rule one, fish in productive water, have the right bait, set the hook slow but forceful, then let the fish run keeping the drag loose at first but tighten down as the fight wanes. None of my VC fished.

I wanted to give time to child rearing and sharing my passions with them. So, I hauled my fantastic 26 foot boat equipped with sleeping quarters, a galley, a head and single screw 350cc Volvo Penta down from Tucson to the desert town in Guaymas Mexico.

"The Good Vibrations" was berthed next to the Catch 22 beach and when the sailfish came northbound usually in May we would hunt them. My crew consisted of a first mate my eldest Nick, a 1o year with a keen proclivities for fishing and adventure and the daughter Cate, a 7 year who played below with her barbies, but would later in life bag a 10 point trophy Mule Deer and fly fish floating down the Madison River in a bikini.
Morning at sunrise if the off shore breeze did not fan the palm outside my window, I bundled up the kids with cereal in a cup bounce down the dirt road and fire up Good Vibrations. She would purr and bellow under full throttle doing about 20 knots out to the fishing fields. With trim tabs adjusted to starboard a little we take a 180 bearing about 20 minutes out in search of bait balls and sailfish.

Birds were the objects. Looking the horizon with Nick at the helm, I scoured the dimly lit horizon with my Bausch and Lomb for feeding birds. The sea was a desert but often enough your eyes hardened adjust to the swells. I could find the currents, even up-swells or depressions and that's where you found the sailfish attacking the bait.

I had four Penn International rods and reels rigged with teasers. It became a serious game who could spot the first sail of the day. I had to calm Nick to let Cate win a few to keep her in the game. She would get ice cream later.

Once the sail was spotted protruding and retracting, I knew the great fish was feeding and if it didn't dive at our rumbling, we put the Penn SW with 15 lbs test into free spool letting out the teaser at various distances. The teasing began with a great circle surrounding the slow moving fish usually with its sail fin flashing trying to scare bait. We kept circling the sailfish, always closing the gap until the strike. Never failed and the absolute chaos began. Nick would head the craft outbound as I fought the bill fish. Once the fish was on and tailing, he turned the helm over to 7 year Cate who keep a straight bearing. Nick begin to reel in the other three lines. Chaos was controlled but never lost a hookup unlike our Tuna blitzes.

It was awesome to witness the 60 lbs sail go aerobatic usually jumping a dozen or more time trying to throw the hook. Never had to set the hook I just them the run on a loose drag do the trick. Slowly I'd retrieve the line until a slight pressure was felt and pump the rod a dozen time to make sure the great fish was on.

The drag was set low and the boat engines drove and set the hook. Sometimes a pissed off sailfish would jump 20-40 times. We managed to hook and release about fifteen sails a week and quickly the crew got bored. They were more interested in watching the sharks feast on dead whales brought north by the prevailing currents.

It was hot that time of year and our air conditioner struggled to keep the house cool. Closing the curtains and keeping ti dark helped. It was a grand house to take an after noon siesta after a morning fishing for bill-fish and tuna. Cate found a tree house by the beach and managed to recreate a world . It was an idyllic place but I need more.

My wife EJ was a green to the ocean swells and when on board she sliped below to sleep and read. She would fly over from the Sierras and live and beach it until she returned back to Reno usually after several weeks of decompressing. We supervised the home schooling and EJ encourage the home schooling immersion approach. EJ loves a man's world and despised the chit chat of women and when I mentioned there were stronger fish in the sea she said to go for it.

Before I returned to the Sierras that summer, a local mariner impressed with our success with ninos mentioned one evening while attending a local fiesta that I should go on down to Cabo. I told him catching sailfish was too easy so maybe I'd go back to TARPON THIS TIME ON LIGHT FLY RODS TACKLE. "Try the marlin," he said. "The sailfish is a weak sister to the marlin. No comparison and Cabo is the place to do it." Those words struck me with pure excitement and the adventure began that would last for the next three years