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I first fished El Salto in December 2008. My older son (Steve) invited me to accompany him with a small group to Billy Chapman, Jr.’s Anglers Inn. Long story short, Steve dropped out, so my younger son (Andy) bought his trip. Everyone in the group except us had been to Salto several to many times. No information about fishing Salto was provided prior to departure, so Andy and I were reliant on what I could glean from the Anglers Inn website and other (mostly online) sources.
In August 2007, I had suffered a serious brain injury. By trip time, I was still being treated for post-traumatic issues. I thought my problems were manageable, and Salto was high on my Bucket List. I feared the opportunity would never come again, so we went.
On our first day of fishing, my neurologist called. My pre-trip MRI had revealed clots in the back of my brain. He gave me three choices: (1) fly back ASAP for treatment; (2) go to the nearest hospital and start blood thinner treatment; or (3) take my chances and see him after the trip. It was (LOL!) a "no brainer;" I opted for No. 3. In the spirit of "No Surprises," I told Andy and Billy Chapman, Jr. about the situation and my choice. Nature could take its course while my son and I fished away.
The fishing was almost everything I had imagined. Almost because we didn’t catch a grande—the Double Digit bass anglers go to México to catch. But we came $#@!%# close.
It just didn’t unfold the way I had imagined. I had been a bass angler since early in high school (1961-1965). I knew I could catch bass at Salto. And I did. Lots of them. They mostly ranged from 3 to 9+ pounds. I caught a few dinks, too. But no DDs.
In college, Andy had morphed into a fly fisherman. I blame it on maternal genetics, but really he picked it up from Steve. He quickly developed a pattern at Salto. First cast in a tree. Second in a bush. Third cast caught a 7, 8 or 9 pounder. Overall, he smoked me!
It was a great trip. Lots of fish. Great Lodge and staff. Great guides. No medical emergencies. We went home very happy. I was ready to go again, as soon as possible.
As soon as possible proved to be 2012. My head had somewhat stabilized and Billy Chapman, Jr. gave me a very special deal at Anglers Inn because of the problems in 2008. This time, I went down in June, solo. It was hot!! But I coped by fishing from pre-dawn until 0900 or so, resting until about 1500, and then fishing until Dark 30.
I didn’t catch as many 9s in 2012 as Andy did in 2008 adventure. And, again no DDs. But I caught oodles of 5s, 6s, 7s and 8s. I also discovered wolf packs, schools of like-sized bass (mostly 5 lbers) hammering shad in open water. I could catch another bass as fast as I could release one and cast a 1 oz lipless crankbait into the pack again.
I vowed to return, soon. But something wonderful got in the way; I discovered Lake Baccarac.
I’ll defer my Baccarac experiences to their own Pages. Suffice to say for now that Baccarac was (and is) so great that it was a dozen years before I would revisit Salto. This time, I brought a small group down and we fished with Pro Bass Adventures México. I had bonded with PBAM at Baccarac, and that bond only strengthened when one of my friends became a co-owner in 2023.
Funny story: Josh Daniels and Justin Seay first went to Baccarac in 2021, in one of the groups I took down. They fell in love with the lake and the PBAM operation at first sight, and Josh had the money to do something about it. Now, he is co-owner of PBAM and operations manager for its lodges on Baccarac and El Salto. Justin handles bookings for both lodges, which increasingly reflect Josh’s vision for bigger, better places for anglers to test their skills. I say more about that elsewhere on this website.
By the time I got back to Salto, in 2024, with another small group of angler friends, Baccarac trips had taught me something about what I was doing. But the seed was planted on that first Salto Trip in 2008. I did everything possible to ensure that my anglers had lots of information about every aspect of their adventure, starting even before they committed. They might not read it, but they had it. You can lead a horse to water….
I package the information as an Angler Guide. The first edition (for Baccarac) was less than 10 pages. The version for the 2024 Salto Trip was 39 pages. If you're interested in reading it, or any of my Trip Reports, you know how to find me. You don’t know? Take another look at the bottom of the Home Page.
The 2024 trip was interesting, and not just because of the fishing. Again I’ll defer the details to a Trip Report. Suffice to say, we caught bass. Not as many or as large as I had caught before, but enough numbers and size to write home about.
Shades of 2008: I was again limited by a medical issue. My casting shoulder rotator-cuff had been completely ruptured a few days after Thanksgiving. It couldn’t be replaced until February 2025! But, when you’re the Trip Leader, you can’t just say, "Let’s go in a few months." So we went, and we fished.
I couldn’t cast any baits weighing more than 1/4 oz overhand. I could only cast the 1/4 ouncers for 20 to 30 minutes of stimulating agony before screeching to a halt. I could cast them underhand, with my elbow pinned to my side, for longer but I couldn’t cast more than 20 yards. When I reached my limit, my guide would cast for me and I would reel in. I had no problems reeling in because that didn't involve lifting or rotating my shoulder.
Yes, it was awkward, but it was productive. I even caught the Big Fish of the Trip, a 9.95 pound casi-grande! When it came to the boat, for a brief second I thought I had my first DD in México! But the digital scale finally settled on 9.95. Oh, my! If we had left the 1/2 oz tungsten Underspin with a 6.8-inch White Ice Keitech Fat Swing Impact paddletail trailer in the bass’ lip while weighing it, I would have had my DD! But Fair Chase applies to fishing as much as it does to hunting.
As a whole, our group did very well. Lots of good fish but you had to work to get them. We went away (mostly) happy as clams. But not until a few days after Mexico’s Army ambushed a cartel member on a road nearby. They said it was a "successful" ambush (RIP, hombre?). We could barely hear the automatic weapons when they erupted after Midnight, but Gringo anglers at the other two lakeside-lodges a few hundred yards away from us could hear them very well. Too well. They all fled for home within 48 hours. That was fine with us because it meant fewer boats to contend with at community holes.