AuntyM...she is still alive and well!

FJ...out.

Or someone is using her computer! I heard that's been going around lately!

FJ...out.

Aunty was it something we said??

FJ...out.

There is nowhere to hide....

I'm back and you all were missed, too. You were thought of everytime the hook was set.

You were thought of so much that we drove all the way down to the Boca Paila bridge just so I could take a picture of the bridge to post. I made Gary get out and walk it to see if it would support the Jeep. Broken away side rails, no more than a foot of extra bridge on each side of the tires in places, and sections of planks that Gary could rock with his own weight. Talk about "FOCUS"...I've never driven anything in my life with such concentration.

The road down to Punta Allen was incredible. Con-joined pot holes 2-3' deep, a rainstorm that dumped 2" in 30 minutes, oversized tires ( all the better to throw mud from here to the next county ), teeny tiny mosquitos that emerged after the downpour with the sole intention of eating Italian ( Gary, to be more specific ). He was swinging and swatting with an absolute fear in his eye. Justifiable after I saw the welts....they looked like blisters and were immediate after the bite. We dared not stop the Jeep because they came in swarms. The road is slightly more than a cars' width and over hanging with palms and tropical foliage. We drove this road for 30 miles at about a 5 mph average when we came to a sedan full of Frenchmen with a rifle in the backseat ( we didn't question the presence of THAT, tho having an unauthorized gun in Mexico is 5 years in prison ) who said that Punta Allen was another hour down the road.

We didn't have fishing gear, as this was an exploratory trip, no camera, very little cash....totally unprepared ( on, did I mention no bug repellant, or was that already apparent? ). We turned around and went jolting and rolling back up the peninsula at as fast a speed as was possible to try to out run the mosquitos. I finally HAD to stop ( you figure it out ) and Gary, who raised our son with the guiding words of "That's garbage, don't touch it", spies a insect repellent bottle in the beach debris. Now, really, what are the chances that it's half full? Garbage or not, he is so desperate that he slathers every drop on. No offer to share. Not that it mattered, I escaped without a single bite.

This is our first full day in the Outback of Mexico. It was hilarious in retrospect.
We did find a more accessable area to fish for bonefish and we all caught them. Nick caught the first and biggest on a Mepps spinner. Then I rented him a sea kayak and I swiped his rod. I caught some on a rubber crawdad before changing to fly gear because Gary was catching fish 5:1 on flies. He wacked himself in the back of the head a few times using those big beady-eyed ones, but managed not to hook himself. I held the rod WAAAAYYY out to the side to avoid the risk. OK....I'll confess about rod. I broke my son's rod trying to pull a spinner off a coral head. I shaved down the ferrule, but the next bonefish broke that, too.
The wind blew everyday, enough that the water was not clear, so we were blind casting most of the time.

The bay we found is easily accessible but nobody was fishing it. One guy was camping there and he said he's never seen anyone fish it. So now it's MY Zipperlip.
diana