Lake Huites Mexico
Lake Huites Mexico
As we go through our magazines, newspaper articles and other media information we hear about lakes in Mexico and how incredible the bass fishing is and how we must go their. Then we start to look into airfare, cost of the lodge etc. and we begin to think "Boy is that a lot of money to go fishing." What if I am being lied to, what if it is all just hype and I get there and there are no fish? Well let me tell you a story and you decide.
I have been to Mexico quite a few times now, both on guided trips and with my own boat. I have taken my wife, gone with groups and went with my partner Greg. We have been to different outfitters and we have gone at different times of the year to different lakes. I am not an expert on Mexico, nor do I profess to be one, I just have a little more experience than someone who has just read about it and never wet a line their. The fishing can be good or it can be poor. When I say poor I mean that you will probably catch more fish on that poor day than you do on one of your best days in the USA on an average bass lake. I know there are some private ponds all around the states where you can go and get 5 pound fish, but let's just talk public water with the jet skiers.
What can you expect? Well let's start with the flight. Depending on where you come from and where you are going, you are either going to be on a regular size jet, or a small turbo prop. The first thing you notice is that the directions and signs are in Spanish first and Gringo second. The flight attendant tells you your seat is a floating seat cushion in Spanish first, then with a accent you can hardly understand she says it in English. OK we land and you go through customs, dragging your rod box, too many cloths and a giant tackle box. You can tell the first timers, they try and carry it all themselves. The frequent Mexican visitor just waves his hand, steps aside and his bags are whisked away for a mere dollar. You can also tell the frequent flyer by his fat wallet. Not big $100 dollar bills, but lots of one-dollar bills. You never have to carry a thing and if you do, you just are not in the spirit of things and should just turn around and go home. At the curb you meet your host and get in a large Chevy Suburban or other big, clean type of transportation with everyone else. The group is friendly and of good sprits. There is usually an ice chest right their with beer and soda and bottled water. Your bags, rods etc. are all taken care of and you don't have a thing to do but sit back and enjoy the trip. You drive out of town and begin to understand why driving in Mexico is best left up to the Mexicans. Even stoplights don't get everyone to stop and speed limits are what you can get away with. You hit the dreaded dirt road to Lake Huites. If you are from Arizona you just sit back and drink another cool one, if you are from a city you hang on and get the ride of your life, switch back, gullies, creek crossing, cows and horses running around your truck. If you are from Arizona you don't even see this, but you hear the cameras going off and you realize that all of this is quite new to some folks.
You arrive at the lodge and while your bags are unpacked you are assigned a room. Everything is well though out. The outfitter knows how many people are coming and has everything arranged. You walk into your room and are just blown away. Boy this is great! Air, lights, sheets, soft beds...and hey come look at this clean toilet! My last room at a camp was cleaner than my own house, but then they weren't reloading 45 caliber bullets, running a computer, printer, scanner, fax machine and sharing if all with three cats and two Rottweilers. You unpack all your stuff, rods, reels, cloths and then go out to the dinning area and meet your fellow fishermen, guides, cooks, maids and camp dogs. This is great. You have a big dinner, a few drinks, go to your room and rig your rods and get to bed early because reveille is at 5 AM and the knock on the door comes awfully early.
Reveille and you stumble around looking for the light in a strange room. You take a look outside and find out it is December and you are warm standing their in your shorts. Well so much for the heavy winter jacket. You take a shower, go to breakfast and then it's back to the truck for a 3 minute ride down to the lake. The guides are already there and they grab your tackle, smile and load the ice chest into the boat. Shelley and I don't drink beer at 6 AM but the two other guys in our party did. We asked for bottled water and coke in our ice chest, the other group wanted all beer. You guessed it; the guides switched ice chests by mistake and we all left camp in the first rays of a beautiful day with the wrong ice chest.
The guides are the owners of the land that was displaced before the dam was built. This is a nice little system. The people who would have been deprived of a living can now guide and still earn a living even though their land is underwater. So these guides know the lake and if you are smart enough to just keep quite while they past by miles of the best looking structure you have ever seen in your life, they will finally stop and point and same something like "Worm" or Spinnerbait". At this time it is usually a good time to go with the guides advice. You see he just had a group here for 4 days and before that another group and before that.... So he kind of knows the lake, if you get my drift. If you are not into fish in 10-15 minutes he will say let's go and off you go for a five-minute ride to another honey hole.
Shelley and I ran up an arroyo and we stopped within shouting distance of another boat from our camp. These guys were yelling and screaming and had fish on one after another. We threw our top water and our spinnerbaits into the massive brush that was sticking out from the rock walls, nothing. So after 5 minutes of hearing these two guys yelling "another 4 pounder!" I finally yelled what are you doing? The reply was "They aren't in that brush, they are within one foot of the rock walls." So our guide moved us to a section of wall that didn't have the heavy growth of brush blocking us and on our first casts up against the rock walls we were into fish. The fish were right on the wall and all you had to do was throw a Pop'r, a Zarra Spook, a spinnerbait or a plastic worm and instant hookup. Now here we come to the part of how good was it and how many fish. Well I would say the morning bite produced about one fish on every five casts. The afternoon was about one fish on every ten casts. Then you get to the exceptions. How is this for an exception? We pulled up to one deep drop-off and the guide tired the front rope up to a branch and told us to cast out this way. We did. We did for one and half-hours. For one and a half-hours we caught a fish on every single cast but two. We caught so many fish that my wife's arm got tired. I tried to slow roll a spinnerbait, bamm. I tried to hit bottom with a bass assassin, bamm. I tried different colors, bamm. It was like being in heaven. I gave my guide a worm outfit and he sat in the back of the boat casting out into nowhere and he was killing them. Then it was time to go and we had to leave that little honey hole.
So how many fish did I catch? I really don't know. One reason was that on that first day we pulled into this quite cove that was like a little jungle, Shelley and I got in their with worms and the bass killed us. Four to five pound bass on almost every cast. Trees and stickups and more dead trees, bass under ever limb. They would hit your worm so fast that if you waited one second you were broken off in a deadfall. You had to be fast. Well here it is 8 AM and we now have about 20 fish all caught and released and this is the first few hours of the first day. We reach in the ice chest for a cold water and find only beer. Now you have to realize that we are on a Christmas vacation, miles from camp, thirsty and wanting to celebrate the release of huge 5-pound fighting fish. Well it's a tough life but someone has to do it, so we each opened a Crevasse and toasted our good fortune. Then back to camp for a full Mexican lunch. After lunch we headed back to the same cove but this time we had on our spinnerbaits and topwater. The results were even better. These bass had a sense of humor and wanted to play. Matter of fact they wanted to play rough. Well that was just fine with us. From their it was up the river and then down the river. Just floating and casting, casting and floating. Fish on spinnerbaits, topwater, doubles, worms and everything else you could throw. We caught fish all day up until dark. The biggest fish were on the points at sunset and they just ripped your spinnerbait. You have to see it to believe it. Then it was back to the lodge for more Margarita's and a steak dinner. You then talk fishing with your friends and get to sleep early, ready for the battle of tomorrow morning.
The question then comes up as to how many fish did you catch? Why doesn't someone ask me how many eagles I saw that I couldn't identify? How many different types of birds? What color was the sunrise with the fog on the water? How did I feel as I looked to the front of the boat and saw my happy wife grunt and set the hook in yet another bass? Yes we caught more fish in three days then I average in a whole year of fishing. Yes I caught a fish on every single cast for over an hour straight. But is that the only way you measure the value of something? I got it from the joy of doing something once in my life, that is hard to put into words. For those few days I never thought of my job, my bills or my problems. All I thought of was where was that lunker hiding? Share this with someone and you will never forget it. It was worth every penny and I want to go again and again and again....
Ken (Cosmic) Kross
President. Kick'n Bass Fish Attractants
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