Blurp Blurp

Two weeks in Campeche.  I could get used to this, and so could my casts.  I need the first week to really get in rythm and zero'd in with the double-haul.  We had a little of everything, but not a lot of anything.  Fish were way up north for the most part, at least the bigger schools of fish.  I managed a couple of conversations in spanish.  Well, a few sentence exchanges someone could understand.  Missed out on a few golden opportunities on the water, some my fault, and some that just weren't meant to be.  I know, that's tarpon fishing, but sometimes the fantasy day is laid right out for you and it doesn't happen.  I had a couple of those.  This place is really in my blood, more so than since the first visit nearly 10 years ago.  A week isn't enough.  Neither is two.  I'm ready for January.

There were bigger fish

And the smallest fish

Black fly in the muddy channel

A few doubles

Many days we could see it

And it would threaten

And become imminent

And we'd get our butts in

And then the dreaded closed harbor as it would blow hard

Trailer Trash Gurgler was hot

So was the red and yellow one

Always love on the white

Nice pod

The infamous cormorant hole.  A lock.

Morning surface eat

See you soon Juan Chey!