If you want to liberate some money from my wallet, all you need to do is market your lure in a shade called “tilapia.” It doesn’t even have to resemble any actual tilapia found in nature, the advertising copy alone will send me into a Pavlovian frenzy forcing me to hit the “submit order” button.
By Pete Robbins
The hardest thing to get used to about Anglers Inn El Salto is the thing that makes them special – their motto, “Service is our Focus.”
You never step out of a van or off of a boat without someone handing you a cold drink, and it’s a little embarrassing when the 95 pound guy who doesn’t speak any English insists on lugging your 12 rods and 300 pound tackle bag to your room. I prefer to unhook my own fish, partially out of habit and partially because it allows the guide to remain focused on boat position for my partner, but I’m sure there are many guests who head back north of the border having caught hundreds of fish, but without the slightest bit of irritation on their thumbs.
The one that continues to take the cake for me, though – just as it did when I first visited in December of 2009 – is the people mover that they use to get you from your room to the boats. When the water is high, the distance is probably less than a hundred yards, and throughout most of the spring it’s not much more than that, but still they look at you funny if you don’t hop on the rolling bleachers. They want you to save your strength for lifting 10 pound bass and 7 ounce Pacificos, hopefully several of each.
It has taken me time, but I’m gradually getting used to that approach. I think I’ll make a few more trips to let it sink in further.