Lake Picachos is a fishery where you’ll raise eyebrows if you catch a hundred a day – not because you’ve done something special, but rather because you’ve lowered the camp average. It takes 200 a day to really impress someone who knows the score, and even then it’s not like you’ve set records.
I’d guesstimate that I have 80 pounds of tackle in the two bags I keep in storage at Lake El Salto. Most of it consists of proven tools, but there are also plenty of items that haven’t produced a single fish for me down there – including flutter spoons, umbrella rigs and various glide baits. Their lack of production might be because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, or because I’ve fished them at the wrong times, or a combination of the two, but the bottom line is that they’re wasting space, and so far they’ve wasted time, too.
One of the reasons Hanna and I go back to Anglers Inn again and again and again is because after a dozen or so trips the staff has started to feel like family. Actually, better than family – because none of my close relatives has ever unhooked a fish for me, tied a knot for me, or jumped up from the seated position to carry my overstuffed tackle bag from my boat to my room.
At Anglers Inn El Salto, the guides fully expect to land every one of the many fish you’ll catch. I don’t really roll like that, so my general rule is to land all fish caught on single-hooked lures myself, unless they are net-worthy, and to leave the vast majority of fish caught on treble hooked lures to them.