At 6:30am we boarded a small boat and set out on the water with our local guide Freddy who would take us fishing off the coast of La Paz. Freddy’s English wasn’t much better than our Spanish so it was as much of an adventure in communication as fishing.
After a few hours on the water Mark & Parker each reeled in a 30-40 lb yellowtail. My attempt to participate was short-lived as these fish put up a much bigger fight than any of us expected. On our way back to the marina, Freddy stopped to clean and filet our catch. We watched wondering what in the world we would do with all of that meat. Parker asked Freddy to keep one of the fish for himself and we still had more than we knew what to do with.
Back on land, we went straight to the nearest restaurant where Freddy said we could have our fish prepared for us for lunch. A little while after ordering, our server walked out with a heaping platter of breaded fish filets and all the fixings for tacos. We tackled it to the best of our ability, savoring every bite of the freshest fish I’ve ever eaten. The restaurant kept the rest of our fish in their cooler while we ate and when it was returned to us, looked like what we ate for lunch hardly put a dent in it.
When we got back to the campground I was on a mission to give away some of our catch since there was no way we could eat it all on our own. As I’d hoped, the first people I asked were beyond stoked to be given some fresh fish and I was equally stoked to know it would get eaten. Mark & I couldn’t stomach the idea of killing something simply for sport. We killed it and therefore felt responsible to see that the kill served a purpose and the fish was eaten.
Another game night was had beneath the stars and another day was ended with us shaking our heads and exclaiming “what a day”.