HEAD-HIGH IN COSTA RICAN JACKS

I arrived in Tamarindo, the not-so-sleepy surf town on the northern coast of Costa Rica, with only two things in mind: blackjack and surf fishing.

The blackjack went as expected. A few good hands to make me overconfident, a few too many celebratory cocktails, and a then like a house of sand, the complete collapse of my teetering stack of chips. The visit to the pricey ATM was no help. I was doomed from that one and only ace-king combo of the night. At least the casino (I use that term loosely as the gambling was located on a second floor of what appeared to be an apartment building) was close to our hotel, and the stumble home was filled with the soothing sounds of the Pacific.

Morning had its usual post-blackjack bleakness, and after an extra-large coffee with the necessary extra-large refill, I assembled my surf rod and headed west. Two blocks and five minutes later I found the perfect cure for my toxic bloodstream: a long stretch of beach populated by a handful of local fishermen flinging handlines and hauling gilled rugby balls from the surf.

I eagerly rigged a cigar-sized pencil popper and waded in. The water was cool in the early morning light, and I splashed a bit over my glassy eyes. I paused when I reached waist-high waves, blinked at the receding thump playing hide-and-seek with my skull, and heaved the lure skyward.

I don’t know what it is about that first cast into new water, but the excitement is coupled with an added layer of anticipation. Maybe it’s the hope that somehow this is where all the big fish vacation. Or maybe it’s a harkening back to simpler times when beginner’s luck worked its charms; when you caught all those fish without knowing you couldn’t.

Whatever it is, it worked on this morning. I watched that huge lure—the one the sales clerk back in Long Beach swore would catch anything south of Baja—splash heavily on the surface. And then, remarkably, almost surrealistically, a second, even larger splash followed. My four-piece surf rod flopped forward and the big spinning reel spun at cartoon speed.

I think I might have whooped. My head immediately cleared, and I think I whooped again.

Line poured from the reel like smoke from a fire. I sluggishly moved through the surf working the drag and hoping to stop the run before I ran out of line. I don’t remember getting in over my head, but a swell that could have swallowed Shaq lifted me from my feet, and caused a mad retreat toward the beach.

As I clumsily back-paddled, the locals watched with amusement, hauling fish after fish with their heavy hand lines. It seems a school of lunkers had circled through just as I’d cast my lure.

Beginner’s luck. I’ll take it anytime.

It took another ten minutes to get my quarry into the shallows, and after timing the waves to get the fish safely above the high waterline, I stared into the bovine eyes of a huge jack crevelle. Not the best table fish, but a definite brute of inshore angling. I’d caught them before in Baja, and each time I’d been amazed at the tenacity of these powerful fish.

I unhooked this savior of the hangover, offered it to the locals for sharing their sea, and lobbed my lure back to the waves. I stayed for another hour and caught jacks on almost every cast. It was a surf fisherman’s Shangri-La.

And if it wasn’t for that gnawing desire to break even, I might have stayed all day.

Board Fishing For Halibut in Scorpion Bay

Happy fishing new year!! It's 2008 and I just returned from 10 days of tough Baja driving. My destination was San Juanico, aka Scorpion Bay, located some 700 miles south of Tijuana on the Pacific coast. The surfing there is legendary, but the fishing is not so well known. I went for both. We left southern California on the morning of December 21st and arrived as the sun was setting on Christmas Eve. The swell was chest-high, and we sunset surfed neverending waves until dark. Christmas morning was celebrated around a campfire with smoky pancakes. Then I went fishing.

From a 10-foot longboard. I used a bungee cord to secure the small tackle box and hung a Leatherman off the side. Then I tucked the small bass rod under my arm and paddled around the surf break to an empty stretch of rocky beach pocked with underwater reefs and turquoise water that indicated sand. The first 10 minutes were slow so I paddled in close to the rocks knowing I risked losing my shiny new Rapala. First cast brought a strike rather than a snag and I released a small cabrilla which had been hooked by all three treble hooks. I realized my mistake, and quickly clipped the middle treble hook free and crimped the barbs on all but one tang of the two remainng trebles. I only keep what I plan to eat and the healthier I can release a fish the better. It's my small way to try and keep the fisheries healthy for my two kids--and fishing kids everywhere.

There's something special and a little spooky about fishing from a surfboard. Your legs dangle in the water as shark snacks, and sudden swells jostle you around. But it's quiet without all that engine noise, and pleasant without the smell of fuel. You don't need to worry about your anchor or watch for those propeller-bending rocks. Best of all, you can get to places a boat can't go and a surfcaster can't reach. And because you slide in on top of the water, the fish don't know you're there.

I played around in the rocks a little longer before moving out to a patch of turqouise water that looked about 8 feet deep. I lobbed the rapala and cranked hard to get it down when the bass rod bowed to the waterline and my 10-pound test line melted from the reel. The battle was brief but exciting as the fish tried to take me into shore. I kept its head up and soon was staring into the toothy smile of a keeper halibut. After a few whoops and hollers I clenched the rod in my teeth and began the slow paddle back to shore. I had to paddle back around the surfers and then time the swells into the beach. I also had to make sure the line stayed taut to the fish, especially since the hooks were mostly barbless. It took about 10 minutes, and as I slid the good-sized flattie up onto the hard sand, a small crowd gathered. Photos were snapped, high fives were exchanged, the fish was iced, and then I hit the waves for some epic minute-long rides on the best Christmas day of my adult life.


You can email me at smorey@incrediblefishingstories.com for more information or just to talk fish. I'll be blogging more of my recent fishing trips over the next month, and I'll include as many photos as I can. All the best to all of you, and may you always have the fisherman's luck in your tackle box!!

Shaun Morey

Hey everyone, welcome to shaunmorey.com and my new blog! I'm getting this blog thing figured out and look forward to lots of fun, thoughtful and provocative conversation about fishing. Drop me a line anytime, and remember clean water and curved rods forever!