The still sleeping fishing village of Jurubida
Dawn broke on 5: 30 am. For the first time in days one of the wettest regions in the world was unusual for the Choco there pounding rain. Instead one started lazy pink glow in the eastern sky above the rainforest behind the still growing sleeping fishing village of Jurubida on the Pacific coast of Colombia. Almost all fishermen had long since the waves of the flood defied and headed out into the arms of the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes like Fischer Heriberto *, never come back, in the sea's embrace forever locked. His wife is waiting for news that will probably never come until today. The sea doesn't like to place his secrets, you see.
Gliding over the glass surface of the River Jurubida, I looked over at the simple houses lined the shore. They were mainly wood and Cana Brava construction, typical for the region. The materials were relatively cheap, readily available and most weather-resistant regions almost forty metres rain per year.
In search of a passage through the waves
My neighbor and local fishing guide, Pepe slid back and forth on the shoals of the incoming waves, wooden start left and right, looking for a passage through the waves to the open sea. Stop the outboard engine for a few seconds at one point, he suddenly throttled to break a low riding wave front and we were free from the flood of onslaught. 10 Minutes on the blue-green water sank lower swells, we 40 lb test Mono trolling homemade stainless steel spoon with wire heads of State and Government for sawn Sierra. It wasn't him long for the first connection that violently Pepe's arm tear, rotate backward you around some at the top. He moved to the first hit the day hand over hand, swinging silver cigar-shaped robbers in our 16-foot locally carved wooden Launcher. Half a dozen fish later slows down the action and we switched parties group Morrows of some more than two miles from Jurubida's shoreline. Thousands of sea birds, the Morrow Pelau inhabited complains loudly of our noise, low flying over the water where you fished.
We laid an undersea plain out half an hour later about 60 meters deep.
Bottom fishing roaming schools
"Lets bottom fish for roaming schools", I suggested.
Pepe reluctantly agreed. Were it up to him, we would all trip troll. But gas prices had shot, and a day which would be trolling a costly one. Better, I thought, troll between fishing spots, then let my Penn reel to do his job. Was together actually three of us in the introduction, Pepe's beginning which was years son twenties it for the day. He had worked out a sign language system "understood him" If "he said" mute by birth, so almost everyone in the village.
We needed some bait so we light BIOS file lines with three dropper hooks twenty feet or so down. Results were immediate and we four inches long Pike in from two and threes for the next hour. Then clearly notice the excitement, predator moved schools Langschnäuziges Champeta and we draw were fishing now in edible game. Became even more fun than sawn Sierra moved now to the Champeta and other Pike. This tends to be less than normally caught trolling, we were one Pan-sized pounds or two pounds. We rode from the gusts of action and weighs more than two additional hours, before it on to the next couple of spots trolling. Shouted conversations with other fishermen led us to a large Swale mixed bag predators and other game fish.
My Penn reel sings
My Penn reel sang as something else live grabbed my fear Pike. My tip Rod bowed, until it touches almost water.
"What's this?" asked Pepe.
I fought the fish on the surface and Pepe's son whistle in amazement. The fat, three-foot long caramel-colored eel surprised me also. FAT it was than my forearm in a foul to boot mood.
"We have to kill it immediately," Pepe warned in his excitement.
Not only it was a line tangles menace, but made it too dangerous teeth, which are certainly boated, without the first dispatching the creature with a few quick machete blows to serve the spine just behind the head. The cold, nothing said his thoughts or intentions, emotion-less eyes even after death. I had set my reel back barely there and new bags if his singing even more mate.
Subsequent actions on the part of all charges us more than 50 fish, including several beautiful yellow-finned "Bobos" before we called it a day early and drove back to the harbour. It was almost 11: 00 am and the sun began its toll. It never clouded up every morning and the tropical sun Bacon can cook like a piece, if you're not careful. From 11: 30 fish amongst the three of us and fish cleaning, making lunch were fresh seafood back in Jurubida, divided was already underway. We had enjoyed even a successful, typical fishing day in the tropical waters off Colombia's Pacific coast. The region is one of abundance in its rich diversity of flora, fauna and sea live. I Marche triumphantly in the kitchen, but briefly stopped. They were everywhere.
They were everywhere
Mud covered legs were quite scurrying over the place. Scratch, clawing and climbing every seeming obstacle.
"Where in the heck did all these?" I asked my wife Doris. Looking up at me with sad eyes, she said "They got accidentally out".
So I went from an episode almost immediately to the next, but then, thats a different story.
Prof. Larry M. Lynch is an EFL teacher trainer intellectual development specialist, prolific author, expert author and speaker. He has written, ESP, foreign language learning, English language teaching texts and hundreds of articles that used in more than 120 countries. Get your free E-book, "If you want to teach English abroad, here's what you need to know" and English language teaching and learning information at: http://bettereflteacher.blogspot.com need a blogger or copywriter to promote your school, institution, service or business or an experienced writer and lively SEO content for your website, blog or newsletter? Contact the author at the above blog address for more information.
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