Some problems don’t change. Ideas for imitating baitfish in Baja go back as far as the earliest anglers who first had the audacity to pit their strongest fly rods against a host of inshore and pelagic species, and decades later, I’m still fairly certain you could get by tying variations of Lefty Kreh’s Deceiver, the archetype — recognized or not — for almost all baitfish patterns that have followed. Materials come and go, with new blends and synthetic fibers appearing on the scene with the frequency of craft beers and fashionable coffee roasts, but when all is said and done, you still end up with a fly that looks little different from something you could have approached simply by tweaking the size and colors and maybe even some of the materials you first employed in your earliest Deceivers.
I’m reminded of something my old tying buddy Fred Trujillo once said when we were fashioning nymphs for some now forgotten hatch we had encountered on the Deschutes: “It’s just a Hare’s Ear,” he claimed, “only you use different materials.”
Which isn’t to contend you can tie on just any old baitfish-looking thing and expect to fool every fish in Baja, or anywhere else, that swims your way. A Stimulator can catch fish during a salmon fly hatch, a caddisfly hatch, or when grasshoppers abound, but if you really want to get into fish, especially the biggest fish around, you know darn well you want to tie on something a little more specific, a pattern closer to the bugs on hand.
Remember: there was a time, long ago, when many of us learned to catch trout with, say, a Super Duper — not a bad imitation, come to think of it, of a baitfish of some sort, but not an offering that will get you a lot of action during the Green Drake hatch on the Henrys Fork.
No fishing anywhere in Baja has made anglers in recent years more aware of the need for refinements in their baitfish patterns than the pursuit of roosterfish along the peninsula’s East Cape. It’s easy to imagine that the common sight of a roosterfish refusing your fly may well have something to do with the pressure the species now receives from visiting fly anglers. We’re all fairly certain those fish on the Henrys Fork — or the Fall River or Hat Creek — would have been a little easier to fool a hundred years ago, before the crowds arrived. Yet there’s also every indication that roosterfish, especially the big ones, have always been a challenging fish to fool, their keen eyesight and apparent wariness prompting, we believe, those sudden fly rejections just when you were sure a fish had thrown caution to the wind.
Maybe. As always in these musings I hesitate to make too many claims about what’s really going on when a fish does or doesn’t eat a fly. I know, without a doubt, that good casts, accurate casts, casts that land with a straight leader so that the fly can be moved immediately, if need be, on the first strip, all have a better chance of fooling a roosterfish lit up and killing bait than a cast more like the ones that I so often huck at moving fish. But when you do make the right cast, and you see a roosterfish start toward the fly, follow it, come close, and then suddenly turn away, you have to assume it wanted to eat, but something about the presentation, if not the fly itself, interfered with that intention, driving the fish away.
Nobody I know has more opportunities to witness these sudden, painful, and often dramatic fly refusals than my good friend Gary Bulla and his fly-fishing captains from Agua Amarga, near Punta Arena de La Ventana, south of La Paz. Gary, from Santa Paula, has, as most readers know, been hosting fly anglers in Baja for the past twenty-some years. He and his captains from the local Lucero family have been instrumental in developing the regional fly-fishing scene, especially the pursuit of roosterfish. I’ve fished with Gary since he contacted me in response to my first book, Angling Baja, and each time I’ve joined him in La Ventana, I’ve noted — and usually copied — the subtle, yet obvious changes he’s made in the roosterfish flies he sells exclusively to his clients.
If there’s an underlying trope running through the evolution of all of Gary’s baitfish patterns, but especially those for roosterfish, it’s the reduction or absence of what’s commonly referred to as flash. If you want to see one of the veteran Lucero captains reject one of your flies, not to mention a roosterfish do much the same, share a baitfish pattern tied with wads of Krystal Flash, Flashabou, or whatever else is on the market these days that sparkles or twinkles in sunlight and water alike. Jay Murakoshi, who is now tying Gary’s baitfish flies, fashions them out of wig hair that he dyes himself, allowing him to create a fly with but a trace of flash while closely mimicking the subtle, lifelike colors of whatever bait is currently predominant in these waters.
I saw Jay’s flies this summer when I flew south shortly after the sudden and tragic death of Valente Lucero, the senior captain who added so much to the experience of anyone who fished with Gary in Baja. Valente’s death reminded all of us who knew him just how tenuous our hold on life can be. I immediately bought a ticket to fly down and pay my respects to the Lucero family, as well as to fish with Gary, because as Valente’s death proved once again, you just never know.
I showed up with my usual assortment of simple baitfish patterns, developed over the past 35 years of fishing along both coasts of Baja. Plus, I had picked up a handful of examples of some of Gary’s newer patterns when I stopped off in Santa Paula the previous fall, pausing on my way north from Baja to show off my new boat, Tamalita, and see the house Gary and his wife were finishing, a replacement for the house they lost in the massive Thomas Fire that destroyed so many homes in and around Ventura in December, 2017.
Not surprisingly, the flies I had tied after inspecting the samples from Gary looked something like Jay’s flies: subtle, sedate, a blend of pale natural colors that suggested the all-but-translucent appearance of baitfish passing through water anywhere. It’s hard to understand why so many anglers — and fly tyers — have felt compelled to elaborate their baitfish patterns with tinsel and sparkle and strands of every sort of reflective material on the market, producing more of the effect of a pom-pom or a chrome bumper — or a Super Duper — than anything alive that swims in the sea. That’s not at all the look you’re after.
On the water, I showed a box of my most recent baitfish patterns to Efren Lucero, senior captain in the Lucero crew now that his uncle, Valente, is gone. Efren, I couldn’t help but notice, had me tie on one of the flies that Gary had given me in the fall. And when I got back to Baja Joe’s, after fishing, I realized I had caught most of my fish that day, but no big roosters, on flies that were the same as the flies for sale displayed on the bar counter next to the big communal dining table — flies, Gary explained, that Jay was tying for him.
So it goes: close, but no cigar. Does it really matter? Not taking any chances, I set up a vise that afternoon and, with Gary looking on, I tried to replicate Jay’s baitfish flies. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all of the same materials Jay uses, especially not any wig hair. Nevertheless, with a little of this and a little of that, I managed a pretty fair approximation, including the tricky thing Jay does with a short length of Mylar tubing that gives his flies their shape and distinctive name.
The following morning, I showed Efren my new flies. While giving them what I thought was a look of acceptance, if not outright admiration, he suddenly reached up his free hand and plucked out a few strands of flash that had been mixed sparsely into the commercial blend I used for the body. Oh, well — it’s what I had on hand. Finally satisfied, Efren handed back the fly and gestured for me to tie it to my tippet.
When the big roosters arrived, I put a cast in front of one, and it ate.
Jay Murakoshi calls the baitfish fly he’s currently tying for Gary Bulla and his Baja clients the Wiggy Air Head. Because I used Jay’s flies to fashion my own, I’ll include his pattern, sent to me just days ago, and also mention some notes he added about how he goes about assembling the fly.
Jay Murakoshi’s Wiggy Air Head
Hook: Gamakatsu SC15, size 3/0
Thread: Monofilament, 4-pound test
Underhead: Large pearl Hareline E-Z Body
Body: Kanekalon wig hair
Topping: Kanekalon wig hair
Lateral: Olive green Krystal Flash
Eyes: Fish Skull Living Eyes
Head: Solarez UV epoxy
Scott Sadil’s Baja Baitfish 9.9
Hook: Owner Aki, size 2/0
Thread: White UTC 140 denier
Underhead: Large pearl Hareline E-Z Body
Body: Bucktail white Flash N Slinky
Topping: Shrimp Flash N Slinky, followed by mullet brown, olive, and/or peacock Flash N Slinky, depending on available bait
Eyes: Silver quarter-inch 3-D hologram eyes with black pupil
Head: Loon UV Clear
Tying Instructions
Step 1: Secure the hook in the vise and start the thread directly behind the hook eye. Cover the hook shank with thread wraps and then return the thread to the midpoint. A lot of “big game” hooks have come onto the market since I started fishing in salt water 40 years ago, but when I feel I have a chance for a trophy, I still like the Owner Aki hook best. Note, as well, that Jay uses monofilament for his thread. I find mono slippery, especially when finishing the fly directly behind the hook eye, so I generally use a multifiber thread.
Step 2: Cut off about a one-inch length of the E-Z Body Mylar tubing. Slide it past the eye of the hook and secure the aft end at the midpoint of the shank. Use tight wraps to keep the tubing stationary. Cover the aft end with thread wraps, as well.
Step 3: Push the tubing back over itself, creating a cone. This shape helps form and maintain the shape of the fly’s body. Bring the thread outside of the cone and secure the forward part of the cone with thread wraps.
Step 4: The body of the fly is formed with strands of synthetic fibers tied to surround the Mylar cone. Jay says you want 60 percent of the fibers on the top half, above the lateral line, and 40 percent below. You can tie in the fibers bit by bit or tie in a bigger clump and manipulate the fibers to surround the cone appropriately. Jay, a production tyer, recommends tying in the larger clump: fold the fibers around the thread, secure them well in front of the cone, spin the fibers to encompass the cone, and then lash everything in place with thread wraps.
Step 5: On top of the body hair, you have a couple of options: tie in a thin clump of first shrimp, then mullet brown Flash N Slinky for tan-colored bait, or olive, then a bit of peacock Flash N Slinky for the common olive flat-iron herring. Jay dyes, or better, “stains” his wig hair, a process I haven’t yet tried. With the Flash N Slinky materials I was using in Baja, I was constantly pulling out the flash fibers — part of the reason, I suspect, that Jay has gone to the wig hair. You’ll notice he also adds a single olive green Krystal Flash lateral line to each side of his Wiggy Air Head. With the FNS material, I felt I didn’t need one more bit of flash. Efren Lucero agreed.





Step 6: Use thread wraps to create an evenly tapered head. Whip finish. Glue eyes to the sides of the head and encase the eyes and head with a UV-activated cement or five-minute epoxy. Finally, trim the body fibers to the size of the bait. (For the photo of the fly after this step, see the previous page.)