My left arm and hand were beginning to cramp and I thought to myself, "Wow,  this fish is kicking my butt!! Why in the hell did I take the last year off from the gym? How much longer is this going to take?" These types of whining thoughts were not the norm for me, particularly not when chasing a first of a species on fly, but this Striped Marlin now duking it out with me was another in string of fish that I may just lose.
I had replied to Grant Hartman's claim "we are going to catch you a Stripey today" as we idled out the harbor that "I would believe it when I see it billed boatside". I had plenty of experience in losing Striped Marlin and, as a matter of fact, a lot of experience actually catching them although never on fly!







Striped Marlin had been my fly rodding nemesis for many years, having hooked them, missed them, jumped them off, popped them off and just plain stuffed them up. I had missed so many in fact I could hardly seem to think I would ever actually bring one up for a photo. Hell I had even caught a Blue Marlin on fly with Grant but these Striped fish really hated me!



 Not more than a few hours earlier I had my first Stripey failure. He fell off the hooks as we tried to out maneuver a vessel that was bearing down on us as the marlin was bounding in a giant semi circle in front of its bow.  Now the most current candidate for breaking my curse was starting to angle up to the surface again for the fourth time. This fish was making me work for every inch of line and even though he had a broken bill, his heart was that of a tenacious fighter. My thoughts turned to the second fish lost a little earlier having worn through the leader- would this one do the same? Why do those guys from the midwest, who never fish the salt, always seem to catch a stripey on the first visit ?



 The fish burst into the air, bringing the mind back to task bowing to it like a tarpon. Powerful head shakes ran down the line, down the rod and into the pit of my stomach. Now his lunges had his head up high and in slow motion - a good sign he was near done. I was wrong.  After another spirited dive he was finally back at the surface. With the precision of a Formula 1 pit crew Grant, Alex and Luis had him swimming boatside, held by his shorter than normal bill, and me inside the boat with a smile that was dazed, confused and beaming all at once. 



Having finally landed and released my first Stripey the bad juju settled back in. The following days saw a couple of Mahi Mahi to hand with a Sailfish and several tailing Striped Marlin half hearted being teased up, if only momentarily, to give us palpitations. Of course I also broke one off giving an aggressive, hungry fish way to much "oommppff" on strike snapping the twenty pound tippet. Oh well, that's the way the bamboo bends. My first Stripey on fly was so very satisfying that it took any sting out of missing these other fish. It has always been my belief that the fish you lose are the ones that make you a better fisherman and they may even build your character.



To sweeten the deal and top off my great few days of fishing, I hit the beach my last morning before heading to the airport. In front of our hotel, the beach drops steeply into the Pacific. Waves crash hard and there is one heck of a current.  During the past decade of staying at the same hotel I have caught all sorts of fish in the surf in front of the Finisterra Hotel including Jack Crevalle, Gafftopsail Pompano, Sierra and Ladyfish. My last cast efforts brought me a surprise -  I caught one of the Roosterfish we had observed there in the past.





Although this was by no means my first Roosterfish on fly nor was it one of those big sturdy models you see flashed about, but it was infinitely satisfying to not have done the beach marathon to get it!









Grant Hartman can be contacted at www.baja-anglers.com  and you can see his reports here http://baja-anglers.blogspot.com/