Untangling the stiff corpse of a slimey lifeless baitfish from an unfathomable clusterfuck of greasy, gap-filled gill-netting isn't what I imagined. 

While dreamy idealism had painted perfect pictures of me slapping a pristine strip-set into the voracious mouth of a golden snook omewhere along the rocky shores of Peru's northern coast, the more modest manifestations of my imagination led me to the safer assumption that I'd probably be ripping into rising lip of some rising rainbow from a lake 

the primordial pesca and slump-busting first fish of this long awaited adventure turned out to be a mid-sized mullet.



And so, after ignoring all the internal chatter of facist fishing purism  . Or, shall I say fishes? Either way, the seal has been broken and in more ways than one. 

After somewhat smoothly navigating the lonesome little coastal border crossing between Ecuador and Peru — through the towns of Hauquillas and Tumbes, respectively — our itch to make up for lost beach time led us to a place of sweet respite, just north of the resort town of Mancora. 

A quick exit east off the PanAmerican and another 500 meters south of 4x4 beach cruising delivered us to the home of one Robert “Robby” Dixon. And despite his far-from-anything but Peruvian name, Robert knows exactly how to show a fellow fisherman a good time on the northern coast of Peru.

It wasn’t more than a few hours after first meeting Robby in the bustling little beachside village of Cancas that he had us waist deep in the crystalline waters of the Pacific, helping set out a procession of 60-meter gill nets just off the beach. 

It was low tide; there was no time to waste. 

Some scenes from the first stop along the way. Just some scenes.

Damn it feels good to be on the road with a camera in my hand again.

More talk later.

​MS​