Word: bonitos
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Both Kneecaps. But they work for their prize. Not even a trout has a more jaundiced opinion of hooks. Blacks like live bait (a 5-lb. bonito does nicely), and they want it practically spoonfed to them. Some marlin will tail a bait for half an hour, only to decide that it isn't fishy enough; others give fishermen heart failure by enthusiastically grabbing the bait, then sourly spitting it out. But when the captain finally yells, "Sock him!", it's Katy bar the door. A few weeks ago at Pinas, an unprepared angler was yanked right over...
There was a dirt airstrip but no commercial service. Fishermen caught mackerel and bonito from dugout canoes; farmers marketed vegetables in the central plaza. A couple of temperamental diesel engines generated electricity to light the four-block bay-front promenade, and the townsfolk got along fine without a proper bridge across the Cuale River that split the town. Pedestrians took a swinging footbridge, and Vallarta's five taxis just sloshed across the shallow stream...
...narrow gulf between the east coast of the peninsula and the western shore of Mexico itself is a great natural trap for billions of game fish that are swept into the area by Pacific currents. The place teems with black, blue and striped marlin, tuna, swordfish. cabrilla, barracuda, yellowtail, bonito, dolphin and roosterfish...
...like old times in the famed wooden geisha houses along the river Sumida. A geisha party before the war meant soft lights from many-colored lanterns, the tinkle of the samisen, a mossy garden with elegant dollhouse trees, a banquet starting with pickled sea-urchin eggs, dried seaweed, bonito entrails, mushrooms, and cuttlefish served with maple leaves and chrysanthemums. Above all, it meant the geisha girls themselves, in lacquered wigs and colorful kimonos, who poured sake from porcelain vases, performed their slow and discreet dances, and sang their sad, seductive love invitations...
...successful white feather jigs, and another provided wire lines for deeper trolling, but nothing worked until, on a tip messaged from a third helpful sportsman, the President ran into a sliver of luck: off Sandy Point, using a nickel-plated spoon, he hooked a single 20-in., 4-lb. bonito, hardly worth a tug on his heavy tackle...