The morning felt perfect for fishing. I’ve always had good luck here, but with brand-new, untested lures, it was anyone’s guess. I motored to my favorite spot and began trolling, back and forth, adjusting depths, swapping lures, waiting for a strike. Finally, I got a hit and landed a cabrilla. Relief washed over me. A few more passes brought in small yellowtail, and soon four fish filled the bucket. I wanted just one more, but the sea had other plans. Cast after cast, the fish followed but refused to bite. Resigned, I turned back toward the boat and suddenly, wham! A hard strike. I reeled it finding it was a parrotfish. Since they’re reef builders, I unhooked and released it back into the water, unharmed.
On the way back, I swung by SV MiCancion, Joe had been talking in Santa Rosalia about wanting a yellowtail, so I dropped one off. We made plans for dinner aboard Strikhedonia. That afternoon, Joe messaged he need to change his alternator belt but he was missing a few wrenches. I headed over, and together we got him back up and running. Boats, they always need something fixed…
By evening, I whipped up guacamole and Spanish rice to pair with Jenna and Joe’s side dish. We grilled the fish, and the meal was spectacular. Fresh-caught fish is unbeatable. After dark, we said our goodbyes as they planned to depart early the next morning, while I hung around a few more days.
That next morning, I waved them off, had breakfast, and hiked to the abandoned airstrip and explored the crumbling houses. Back at my camp, I gathered firewood and built a fire pit, already looking forward to the glow of flames later that evening.
On my final day, I tackled my favorite hike, up the mountain overlooking the airstrip and beach I’d explored the day before. The climb was steep, challenging, but eventually mellowed. After an hour and 2.2 km, I reached the overlook. The view stretched wide in front of me, a fitting farewell to this place that had given me fish, friends, and adventure.
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