Sophia: A name of Greek origin. Meaning: knowledge, wisdom

It was a warm autumn morning when my phone rang.  My compadre's name, Jorge, appeared on the phone screen. "Don't forget that we are meeting for lunch in Riverside," He reminded me. I told him that Javier and I were on our way and Bob was meeting us at the restaurant. We were meeting in Riverside, being that he has been living in Hemet for the better part of a year. This is because he and his wife have a new commission: babysitting their beautiful new granddaughter.

Hemet is a dusty little town in the San Jacinto Valley of  Riverside County. You know you have arrived when you come across numerous sun-drenched, heat stoked, brush and trees with occasional dry dusty creeks. You can conclude why I was incredulous to hear his claim that he has been living there for so long and only comes down to the city to inspect and pay the caretaker of his principal residence.

In the  forty or so years that I've known him, Jorge has never been away from his home for more than two weeks. He likes to be available to take care of his rental properties He is serious about his hobby of constantly maintaining and upgrading his real estate holdings. He enjoys, landscaping, painting and updating all of his rentals. He also enjoy purchasing tools and heavy construction equipment, " I like to be ready for any job that comes up and I don't like to rent machines or tools," he asserts . His friends have warmly named Jorge, a slum landlord.

Therefore, you can certainly understand my bewilderment when Jorge disappeared for months until we met for lunch at Simple Simon's restaurant in the heart of Riverside's historical center. "I am babysitting my beautiful new granddaughter, Sophia," he cheerfully declared.  His exuberance  was accompanied with a wide ear-to-ear smile. "I prepare her breakfast, lunch and dinner, bathe and change her.  Sometimes I let my wife help me. But I do most of the work". When he noticed the incredulous faces of his closest friends, he added, "Really, I'm even teaching her to crawl... by crawling on the floor with her, I'm also making her some flash cards of the numbers, vowels and colors. She is very intelligent!" Then he stated his  main goal, " I'm going to have her reading by her third birthday"!

Jorge recounted his experience since it had been some forty-five years since he fed a baby, "I'll be honest with you". He said, "There was some trepidation in my heart; I didn't think I 
would be up to the job. But I did it all by myself... I'm committed to it, Yea!" 

Here Jorge is happily and proudly posing for the camera with his grand-daughter. 
He told us that she is beginning to sound out the vowels as he showed us her pictures. 
Robert said , "She is beautiful, looks just like Gloria... her grandma". Javier and I were in 
complete agreement "Que bueno que no se parece a mi",  Jorge added. 
"gracias a Dios". Bob murmured.

Sophia, the Goddess of wisdom in Greek mythology, leisurely crawling towards grandpa. 

As we were concluding our lunch and conversation, I discerned that Jorge's commitment and dedication are lovingly bound to a manda. A solemn vow by Gloria to God on behalf of their family, as is the custom in Mexican families.

Jorge's enthusiasm was evident in his speech; he was energetic, animated and, in fact, he seemed inspired. Sophia when grandpa teaches you to read, you can read what he said, 

" Sophia your grandma, and I love you with all our heart".

Well... after lunch as we departed and in unison, congratulated Jorge in his commitment. In spite of my rhetoric, we know who is the driving force on this endeavor; la jefa my comadre. Laurels to you Gloria!

Quotable quotes:

Grandparents: A grandchild's press agent. 

Grandparents: People who come to your house, spoil your children, and then go home.

The challenge at Intake 2... It's Hydraulics

Early the following morning, I pointed our Suburban in the direction of the mountains on Route 168. Within forty minutes, we were at 7000 + feet of elevation. I turned left onto Intake 2, a wonderful place to fish. The lake is about the size of a football field, with a huge water pipe constantly restoring water to the lake. This hydraulic movement of water is a perfect environment in which to study the surface flow and oxygenation of water. These conditions are great for fishing. As soon as I parked the car, the doors swung open, the anglers reached for their fishing poles and rushed towards the glistening, clear waters. Each angler quickly claims his real estate along the inviting surfaces of the lake.

Javier, with great expectations after winning the Mammoth competition, boastfully tried to intimidate the rest of us. Unfortunately Dagon, the ichthyoid god of fishing was against him. He ended up in 5th  place. The rest of us believe that his downfall was because his son, Javi, didn't stock his tackle box. Javier isn't usually aware of what to use or what he'll need.

Jorge, the first one out the door, quickly crawled underneath  the canopy of trees seeking a shady spot. There, completely hidden from view, he remained and was not seen again until he emerged from under the trees at departure time. Here, he happily displays his catch for the day. Good enough for 4th place... Opochtli, his Aztec god of fishing, failed him. "I tried to do better, I really wanted to beat Bob well... I'm happy that the kid beat him ". 

 Bob, a cranky, conservative fisherman of the old school, who lives with one thought in mind, "Catch more fish, (roar) more fish hence his moniker, the trout slayer. "I don't need no stinking demigods", He shouted as he stationed himself on a small section of the dam  next to the intake pipeline. He was attentive and determined to win. He hustled, changing baits frequently; powerbait to rat tails, plastic worms, hook sizes and leaders. With eagle-eye precision he casts his rig into the oxygenated current at the intake of the pipe. He worked it!  With his very respectable catch and the crowd behind him he, disappointingly, fell just short of first place. He settled for 2nd. place. Obviously sadden and disillusioned, he walked over to the New Champion, Little Dave and with his rapscallion charm, he congratulated him.

The championship plaque for first place was awarded to the 2014  champion Little Dave. Click play to hear the championship song from one of Dave's favorite singers.

"Work hard, play hard and fish hard... that my mantra" said Dave as he enjoyed a cold refreshment after winning the derby.  "This is a very delightful win", he added. "I had to go against some very good anglers. They have been fishing ever since I was child". "I won because I found the sweet spot in this lake, I have to plot it on  GPS . This is a special win and I owe it all to my dad who started me in fishing".

After the competition of fishing challenge, we got together the following day for a very delightful lunch . Being an outdoors-man Dave ordered an elk steak with chipotle sauce and country fried potatoes along with his favorite brew. He promised to win again in the 2015 season. The trout slayer reminded him not to count his fish before they are caught.

Want to hear another song? click play

Me? well... I came in in third place. Thank you for asking.

In the Sierra: Intake II fishing derby. Part 1

The five Rainbow Anglers headed out toward the Sierras. We each prepared ourselves to win the rainbow trout tournament. El perico, who more often than not, returns empty-handed, was in good spirits. Lil Dave was relaxed and ready to claim the first place. El dormido, the current champion,  was still in high spirits over having vanquished, Bob, the Trout Slayer. He persistently taunted him on his loss, " You are all washed up Bob.  You can't handle it anymore". For his part, Bob, who enjoys the give and take, was mostly silent, taking it all in. This was not at all like him. For my part, I concentrated on driving, maintaining the peace and taking in the beauty of the drive. As we approached Lone Pine along the mighty Sierra Nevada, we decided to make a pit stop at the Visitor's Center facing Mount Whitney.

Javier was very eager to get started, ever since he earned the championship during the
Mammoth Lakes Challenge Cup by besting the long time title holder, Bob. "I opened up a can of
whip ass and laid it all over him," he boasted to this reporter. 

Lil Dave on the left is a recent member of the team. During the few tournaments he has
 attended, he has consistently placed second. His enthusiasm for fishing is contagious, 
he is positive and always willing to assist other anglers. David is eager to give advice, 
share his magic dust-fish attractor or share his snacks and cold beers. When Javier stole 
his bag of snacks, he just said "Go ahead.  Take as much as you want" which he did.

El perico, on the right, seems to be the one who brings everything: a small refrigerator with 
deli food, maintained at a constant temperature, his medications, boutique lounge chair 
and slippers.The first thing he does is find a shady spot near the lake to set up his chair. 
He won't move from there for the duration of the tournament. No wonder he is always last... 

Bob is the senior member of the team, he eats, dreams, drinks and lives fishing. He fishes
 about 300 days a year. Some of the locations where he fishes, want to charge him rent. As far
as we know, he was undefeated in tournaments until el dormido unleashed an assault on him
 and walked away with the championship. Bob was just overconfident! After the 
loss he seems lethargic and on a decline. But we are all pulling for him.

Bob finally broke his silence, "Let's stop at Baker's Pond and see what's biting." Everyone eagerly agreed. We made a left turn on Baker Road, just as we passed the town of Big Pine. Soon we were at the waters edge, casting out power bait, gigs, plastic worms and rat tails tempting those fussy rainbow trouts into our custody.

Baker's Creek feeds this small pond.  It's an ideal place to catch some lunkers for lunch. 
Just as we were getting ready to leave, the Department of Fish and Game showed up.

... and deposited a tankful of rainbow trout for our enjoyment.We fished here 
a while longer before continuing towards Intake II for tomorrow's challenge. 

Stay tuned for part II.

"Ceviche" with a fresh Hawaiian Taste

One universal truth about coastal towns throughout Mexico is their love for ceviche. Nothing offers a more vivid reflection of sea side restaurants as their artisan ceviches. Typically, ceviche is made with fish, limes, onion, cilantro and hot peppers.
Today, I am presenting to you ceviche with a fresh new taste. Many of the ingredients are the same. However for your consideration, I have added or substituted others. This recipe gives an added dimension, freshness and flavor. Try it. I am confident you'll love it.

Start with firm red tomatoes. Here I am using Roma, however, any variety will do just fine.

One medium size white onion, fresh limes

Zanahorias en escabeche, marinated carrots: they can be found in you local Mexican market.

Five or six ripened plums. Since they are sweet and sour, they add an exotic dimension to the dish.

My preference for ceviche are surface fish; barracuda, yellow tail, bonito or dorado, (mahi-mahi) .
Chop about a pound of your choice of fish filets into half inch pieces. Cut limes into halves, 
squeeze the fresh juice into the bowl until the fish is completely covered with the juice. 
Cover and store in refrigerator for a minimum of four hrs., but no more than six.

With your fish chilling, now is the time to chop your marinated carrots and onion into
quarter inch squares.

Instead of cilantro, I use roasted seasoned seaweed  for an excellent smoky flavor.

Then,add three tbsp. of virgin olive oil, a quarter tsp. of lemon pepper, one tsp. of Hawaiian
seasoning mix, quarter tsp. of sea salt and a quarter tsp. of black pepper. Mix all of the 
ingredients and seasonings together.

After 4 to 6 hrs. in the refrigerator, use a cheese cloth to strain the lime juice out of the fish. 
Mix seasoningsand all ingredients. Your ceviche is ready to serve.

The traditional way of serving ceviche is on a tostada...

...or if you prefer in a bed of lettuce.

In the traditional Mexican style, raw jalapeños or serrano chiles  are added
  to the ceviche. I prefer a spicy salsa, either green or red, so that each person can add the
desired amount into their serving.

In my home, my family and friends enjoy the summer because it allows us plenty of time to go fishing. Always hoping to land one of those big surface fish for grilling and for ceviche...

Twilight fishing @ 22nd Street Landing, San Pedro CA

The first week of summer with high temperatures, was upon us.  It was a good time for me to get the outdoor dinning area ready for a nice BBQ dinner this coming week-end. Just as I mustered enough energy to gather my cleaning tools, the phone rang. " Dad, lets go fishing", my son David,  suggested. Manny, my oldest son, had informed him that his employer, Turner's Outdoorsman Sporting Goods, was sponsoring a twilight fishing trip on the Monte Carlo, out of 22nd. St. Landing, San Pedro CA Well... what's a father to do? I was compelled to accept the generous offer. I'd save the cleaning for another day.
With all deliberate speed, I went to the garage to gather my ocean fishing equipment, including the most important item: my CA fishing licence.

Two fishing poles per person for light tackle and one for heavier tackle, depending of what's biting. For of-shore, I recommend casting rod with 15 lb test line. If larger fish are biting, you can rely on your heavier pole and line:25 lbs - 30 lbs. 

Always have your fishing  licence with you. Over the years, I have witnessed a number of citations being handed out. When you least expect it, the fish and game warden will show up; fines are steep . I always display mine, although it isn't necessary. By having your license visible, the warden will approach someone else to check. Also, have a wide assortment of hooks and weights in your box, along with a variety of lures and gigs.

We arrived at the port of Los Angeles with plenty of time to spare. Soon a variety of anglers joined in with tall fishing stories which only salty anglers can remember. A short time later, the sponsors from Turner's began to arrive, including my son Manny. They were prepared to raffle a variety of great gifts, fishing equipment and tackle, including fishing poles.  Thus equipped and looking forward to a great time, we boarded our ocean going vessel, the Monte Carlo!

On board the Monte Carlo, we passed the welcome to Los Angeles sign, on our way to the bait barge.

Deckhands scooping anchovies on board  along with squid, our primary bait.

David, relaxing and making friends as we get on our way to the fishing grounds.

Manny, in the galley setting up the prizes and tickets for the raffle. 

Everything is in order...anglers are ready.

This is the last picture I took, the Palos Verdes peninsula, before the captain said, " We are right on top of a school... lines away ". Everyone rushed to their designated places. Fishing on! Everyone was enthusiastically  engaged in casting out gigs, plastics, anchovies and squid. For my part, I put my camera away and for next four hours I joined the celebration, pummeling the ocean with my jigs. I could hear shouts of gaff! gaff!  which means," I hooked a big one and need some help landing it".

Manny, with a big smile after a happy evening fishing and working. He then asked me to take his fish home to make some of my famous ceviche.

David was feeling good; he had been looking for some good ocean fishing for awhile. He will come by my my place this week-end along with the half-filled sack of fish fillets to grill some of his award winning dishes.

Finally, the Monte Carlo, its crew getting ready for its next outing. It's a very spacious fishing boat with an excellent crew,willing to assist you  in every way and has the best burritos in town! We'll be back soon.

Fishaholics: trek to Eastern Sierras

A true angler's dilemma, "Where would we trek in our search for our aquatic prey? Our small intrepid group has been dreaming of a summer fishing trip to the Eastern Sierras . Javi, our youngest member, who lives in Sacramento, has been sending us information on the lakes. To our dismay, some of our favorite lakes are dry. Some of them look like sun baked football stadiums minus the bleachers. (Global warming?) After careful planning, Bob, our fishing sage, explored the internet before designing  our trip to the Mammoth Lakes area.
Unfortunately two of our member failed to make the trip. Jorge, our loquacious pal (aka) " El Perico",  informed us that this spring and summer, he was scheduled to babysit his beloved granddaughter. David, our fishmonger, who is forever ready with a new exquisite fish recipe, changed jobs recently and wasn't able to make it.

We departed from Los Angeles early one morning; ninety minutes later, we found ourselves pulling into our usual dive for breakfast in the middle of the Mohave desert. Afterwards, we re-initiated our drive going north on highway 395, an asphalt ribbon adorned with desert scrub on either side and the beautiful Sierra Nevada mountain ridge to our left. A few hours later, we were at Lundy Lake which was practically empty. Soon we found out why; no fish.

The town of Mammoth  was our center of operation. Here we were closer to most of lakes and streams. We would be targeting rainbow trout. Filled with high expectations, skill and praying to the goddess of good fortune, we ventured out to the Mammoth Lakes Loop: Lake Mary, Lake George, Lake Marrie and 

Horseshoe Lake. 

 We followed this map in our search for rainbow trout, but
unfortunately we didn't get many bites during our outing. Map courtesy of: sierragatewaymap.com

 The following day,we were more eager than before to capture our limit of the elusive rainbows. With all deliberate speed, we drove to Crowley Lake and after mishaps, calamities and mayhem, we were chased away by swarms of flies, They appeared like dark moving clouds obstructing our vision and breathing. After this plague like affliction, we vigorously headed to higher ground, Little Virginia Lake.

Our trek to the sierras was a month earlier than in previous years. Snow was still embracing the
edges of the lake. This made for a slow jaunt  in finding suitable locations to cast our lines. 
Javi, as always, with fish on his stringer.

After an enjoyable afternoon of fishing, we displayed our catch. Javier was a most happy angler. 
The final count for the day favored him over everyone else, " I beat Bob! for the first time ever, I beat Bob! ... Wow I whipped him like a rag doll, " he shouted.We all had to concede the victory;
 this day he dominated the old sage alright!

This is why Javier beat Bob...he was actively fishing, on his feet, moving around,
changing his bait frequently while Bob, in the background, is just sitting on a rock.
Let this be a lesson for all you young fishermen!. Javier's advice is, "Fishing is not a passive sport. 
You just can't cast out your line, sit down hopping that fish will jump on your lap."

With snow flakes falling and threatening dark clouds overhead, we decided to call it a day.

After carefully storing our catch in ice, we headed to downtown Mammoth for a
well earned repast and beer at a busy pizzeria adjacent to our lodging. The dinner discussion
 continued Javier's deciphering his design and strategy  to conquer the old sage. "I beat you Bob!!!
 I finally beat you ha, ha, ha. " The old sage said, " Yeah, yeah...wait till next time, rookie ". 
After toasting to the winner, I felt compelled to remind my Javier that it's harder 
to be a good winner than a good loser because one has less practice.

Well, we really missed our two anglers who couldn't make it this time. Here's a toast
 hoping they can join us on our next fishing adventure.

Here's to our fishermen young and old;
Here's to all the fish that we caught;
Here's to the ones that got away from our hold.
     They deserved it because hard they fought.
                                                                                _ jmove
    

Arizona: fishing or no fishing

Normally during the winter, Bob can be found doing home improvement projects, oiling his fishing reels, polishing his fishing poles. Other times, he putters around in bait and tackle shops, or swap meets foraging for classic fishing gear. He only purchases an item once-in-awhile, but his enjoyment is the  in-depth discussion with the old timers which helps him pass the time until  opening day in the Eastern Sierras.
Unable to wait for the "stinking opening day", he called, beckoning me to fish Arizona, "I can't wait until opening day...", he whimpered on the phone. I reminded Bob that half of our fishing group was busy, one was in Sacramento becoming a slum landlord and the other one was taking turns from multiple venues such as San Jacinto, happily taking care of his daughter who just given birth to his beautiful granddaughter, and Sonoma where he is helping his son repair a fixer-upper. "They won't mind. We can fish with them some other day". I stood firm against his forceful arguments and sound logic. But when he said, "Ill drive my new car and take care of the lodging". Well... what could I do! I just could not let my bosom amigo, a septuagenarian, drive alone all the way to Arizona. I felt compelled, for his safety, to accompany him. Furthermore knowing him, he might get into trouble with the notorious sheriff Arpaio.
Promptly, we found ourselves on the way to Chino Valley, Arizona. Bob was in good spirits but anxious to get going. "Let's rock and roll",  he shouted. "We have many hours ahead of us, let's go!" " What's the hurry... relax", I advised  him.  His zeal even caused the freeway to apologize for the distance and  duration between home and our destination.

With a full tank of gas, cruise control and driving skill, Bob was soon past Hwy 10. Now, we cruised down Rd. 89 towards Prescott, Arizona, along the Ponderosa forest. Unexpectedly he said, "We are almost there" "How do you know?" I asked. Exhilarated he answered, "Oh...I just remembered I have been here before". Hmmmm ...

Prescott, Arizona unfolded before our eyes... Rd. 89 giving way to Montezuma Ave. A few blocks further we parked in the heart of the historic section on Court House plaza. Our host Danny aka Angelo greeted us. He and Bob have been friends since childhood, growing up in el barrio Hayes of  El Monte, Ca.

Above, Bob and Danny reminiscing on days of yesteryear. The time they were in kindergarten was
 fresh in their minds... the "travesuras" fondly remembered.

Having adapted nicely to the leisurely western atmosphere of Prescott, the following day we decided to get out to the lakes. The first one on our list was Lynx, an ample body of water with a boat ramp.

Bob is pictured to the right, taking inventory of depth, currents, shore line, inlets and the catches of other anglers. After learning that it was stocked over three weeks ago, he advises us to pass on this one. Our next stop was Williams Lake, a much larger body of water complete with state of the art ramps, BBQ grills and plenty of shade structures.

At this lake, Bob chatted extensively with a number of anglers who had been here for hours but had no fish. By this time, were were getting hungry and realized that we had not purchase an Arizona fishing licence. Bob said, "Lets get back to town and get something to eat". " I know just the place", said Danny,  "You'll love it"!  We journeyed back to Waffles-N-More, one of Danny's favorite eating joints. We agreed, the menu was extensive, reasonable and appetizing. I found the biscuits and gravy out of this world! Danny preferred a bone-in slab of  ham, and home made fries.  Bob settled for oatmeal. After good natured table talk reminiscent of years gone by, we headed out to Danny's ranch.
Upon leaving the main boulevard, we embarked on a smooth graded carriageway. Bob, a closet lover of  open fields, agricultural terrain and farm animals was overcome by pure enjoyment. He was like a kid in a candy store. He toured the onion, garlic and bean fields, all the while asking questions only a farmer would be interested in: fertilizer, water well, irrigation method etc. Danny took us to survey his fruit trees and different chile plants. " I have a surprise for you", Bob said to our host, and he took out a assortment of seeds. "I brought you these seeds. They are some of my prized specimens". Danny assured him that they would be planted, cared for and that he would send him ample samples of the harvest. They gave each other a warm abrazo.

Time seemed to be flying by, specially after a few libations among friends. It was time to feed the animals, Bob jumped on the back of the pick up truck and headed out to the barn to load hay and vegetables for the animals.

 Animals seem to take to Bob warmly, this donkey was the first to approach  
and got the biggest carrot.

Look at those big brown eyes focusing, loving, on Bob.  

Instinctively, he knew just how much hay to feed the goats. He also
 wanted to  learn how to make goat cheese.

At 75 and feeling like superman, Bob wanted to jump on a horse and ride around.
Danny and I convinced him that it was not a good idea. He insisted, until I warned that
 I would call his daughter, if necessary. That quickly brought him back to his senses...
  he had another glass of Merlot instead.

Our last day was spent exploring the town and visiting historical sites. Albeit feeling a little intimidated by a whole bunch of, primarily young men, toting their guns in public. Arizona's open gun policy.
Bob was approached and asked to contribute to sheriff Arpaio's re-election campaign. "Is that the guy who makes prisoners wear pink pajamas?..." He asked  smiling, "let me think about it.". After expressing our gratitude and attention afforded us by Danny, a fraternal abrazo was in order. Now we headed back home.