Anyone who has been to Cabo remembers that first time. Maybe they would rather not, the whole "What happens in..." tank-top slogan thing. But they do. At least parts of it. And there's alwas the credit card receipts and crumpled up bills to help fill in the gaps.
"We went there last night?"
There's the getting off the plane, and onto third-world tarmack, all the smells that remind you that, in just a few hours, you really can be a world away.
In the spring the tarmack has this different small, especially after eight weeks of revalry come April. Or so it seems, seems that banana boat, last night's drinks, banana boat and a little sweat kind of mix it up to flare the nostrils and kick in that Cabo excitement.
Maybe I look at it like that because college spring break brought me to Cabo for the first time. Not old enough to drink stateside, it was an early April five days to remember with a bud not from college, but rather high school. We booked two days of fishing from an ad I saw in WON from a now defunct travel agency, Costa del (something), and wish we hadn't; we both got less than an hour of sleep both nights, he puked, I caught huge sierra and baby roosters on day one and day two brought a Cabo troll-a-thon. The Squid Roe scene was epic and back then the Giggling Marlin really held. It was probably 1999.
I remember wanting to get home in the end, the Montezuma's revenge being too much the last days, the mere thought of another beer being enough that warm taste in the mouth and send fluids up the other way. But I also remeber wanting to come back.
Trips to Cabo are about different things for Southern Californians as life gets more mileage. Austrailians have Bali, Europeans Greece and Spain, we have Cabo as our close-to-home vacation spot. Or whatever Cabo is for that next, or first, trip.
If someone said to describe myself in a word: thinker.
Maybe that's why all it took was to leave O.C., leave LAX, get on a plane and bail the SoCal Bight, to start thinking about Cabo, Mex., in general, really, and how getting down to Land's End to cover the WON Tuna Jackpot brings back so many great Mexican memories.
Guys on the plane were heading down for the Jackpot, ditto for a party crew on the shuttle that won out over the expensive cab ride. Cabo. Cabo, Cabo, Cabo... I hear the words a lot, and all it takes is getting into town to think about college spring breaks, long range fly-home trips, an epic week with my now wife and best buds from high school back in 2005 and last year's Tuna Jackpot, and how hopefully the internet connection at the Wyndham will be muy fuerte this time around.
That's it. That's this blog. It pretty much did nothing to pique your fishing interest.
But everyone, well, most everyone, has a Cabo story. And as this week goes down at the Tuna Jackpot and I shoot pics and write all the words, I think I'll use this blog to write about everything BUT fishing, while the Tuna Jackpot blogs will be ALL about fishing and the events that went down.
Today's big thought: I am done blogging about inshore fishing and seabass and all that. Still, Brian Woolley on the sportboat Sum Fun getting on a big spot of squid below my house in San Clemente was enough to make me think about what would have happened back home this week.