Blistering Baja And The Cool Sea Of Cortez

A Mecca 10 Million Years In The Making. I take a deep breath. Looking to the horizon, the sea reflects a dozen shades from baby blue and transparent jade to various hues of navy and deep purple.

Out here, adrenaline-filled Pacific sailfish hover among shimmering bait-balls. Ebony depths saturated with brilliant phosphorescence illuminate nighttime wakes. This is Baja. This is the famed Sea of Cortez. The ocean bursts with life, life, and more life.

Fishing the Baja Peninsula became a permanent part of my DNA on the first visit – and it’s much the same with one and all. Wherever your angling travels take you around the globe, once you get a taste of Baja, you will always compare the fish you land to the monsters you pulled out of the striking Sea of Cortez. Even though this fertile sea has been over-fished by the nation’s commercial fleet and is in need of more protective measures, prized roosterfish, neon-painted dorado, tuna, sailfish and members of the marlin family continue to abound here in generous numbers. The size, the strength, the sheer determination of these fish will stay with you forever.

My indoctrination took place the moment I set foot on the pristine beach stretching from Cabo San Lucas up the East Cape to La Paz. I witnessed frequent showers of fleeing baitfish exploding within a few hundred feet of shore. I looked more intently as waves rolled in, noticing schools of helpless sardines desperately seeking refuge from the ever-present predators.

With this much of a baitfish resource, it became ridiculously obvious to any observer that fishing prospects would be sky high.

Roosterfish not only look exotic, they fight like an animal twice their actual size. Most are encountered near-shore while trolling or casting around rocky outcroppings.

Indeed, year after year, I’d heard about the awesome fishing in Baja and I wanted the thrill of going toe to fin with huge roosterfish in the surf of the East Cape. When I read about a few intrepid anglers catching monster fish, including striped marlin, while riding bareback on a sit-on-top kayak, I had to experience that adventure. And when my wife discovered that Baja is loaded with a number of great resorts with world-class spa facilities, she became a willing adventure partner. We reserved airline tickets and a room at the Rancho Leonero Resort.

My research clearly indicated that it’s the sea that makes this region so spectacular. An arm of the Pacific Ocean, the Sea of Cortez stretches over 700 miles and spreads to 130 miles wide. The Imperial Valley of California and the Salton Sea were once part of this vast gulf. The sea’s floor descends from the north to the south, with the greatest depths exceeding 8,000 feet. Ray Cannon, a writer from California who wrote about Baja for decades, called the region a giant fish trap. With a distinct funnel shape, Cortez houses resident species in staggering numbers and attracts seasonal pelagic species seldom seen in the same waters elsewhere on Planet Earth. Cannon spoke of intense white-water action where baitfish and predators collide in huge traffic jams. It’s common to see the surface erupt in a frothy fury, glistening with sparkling scales. Carnivorous birds add to the excitement via relentless attacks from skyward. Before the feeding frenzy ends, huge bait-balls reduce to mere memories.

The Sea of Cortez’s steep slopes become most prevalent at Pulmo Shoals near East Cape. Here, the depth is approximately 10 fathoms 100 yards from shore. Venture out another half mile and it drops to 100 fathoms. Another half mile and the ocean floor disappears to more than a mile below. Highly sought-after yellowfin tuna, accompanied by their close cousins the always-welcome skipjack, visit these near-shore perimeters on a daily basis to feed along the sharp underwater cliffs where they gorge on sardines, flying fish, caballitos, anchovies, and the odd-looking bearded goatfish.

I couldn’t quite assuage my angst when arriving at the Baja Peninsula. Do I charge full-steam ahead at billfish and shoot straight for Cabo, the self-proclaimed marlin capital of the world, or spend time inshore going up against battalions of combative roosterfish and powerful pargo? The latter foe intrigues me, representing Mexico’s version of an overgrown red snapper with a very bad attitude. Those more daring can even kayak fish for blue-water species that can weigh many more times than the boat and angler put together. All in all, about 850 species of fish ply the waters of the Sea of Cortez, and I hear them all screaming my name.