FISHING BAJA FLY-FISHING NEAR BAJA PENINSULA WILD ADVENTURE.

Byline: BILL BECHER

CERRALVO ISLAND, Baja, Mexico - Only mad dogs and fly-fishers go out in the mid-day sun in July in Mexico. I'm with a group of Southern California anglers at Las Arenas Resort near the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula.

We wade out from the sandy beach and heave our fly-fishing gear into the panga - the ubiquitous Baja motor skiff - wallowing on the waves before sun-up. There is enough light to see our destination, Cerralvo Island.

We're fishing for barred pargo, sierra mackerel, jack crevalle, cabrilla, pompano, roosterfish, and who knows what else in the fish menagerie in the Sea of Cortez. If we're lucky, we'll hook dorado and tuna, or even a sailfish.

The heat isn't bad. Yet.

My fishing companion today is George ``Chappie'' Chapman, Commander USN, Ret. Chapman, 83, lives in Woodland Hills. He's a well-known fly fisherman whose innovative fly designs have been published many times. Yesterday he hooked a dorado, the gold and blue fish that lights up like a Vegas sign when it's excited.

``The best part for me was the dorado, even if they were scarce,'' says Chapman.

His wife, Mary, says Chappie is the only person she knows who went fishing in a panga and came back in a taxi, the result of a sudden storm that made a quick landing imperative. The variety and the action are what draw Chapman to fishing in the ocean, along with the challenge of creating flies that catch fish.

The hotel will have a Fourth of July barbecue for us tonight. Chapman will display the ``Old Glory Invincible'' fly he tied in red-white-and blue with a star instead of an eye for a fund-raising contest to benefit New York City firefighters and police following Sept. 11.

As we approach Cerralvo Island to get bait, the sun - a red glowing briquette - pokes over the horizon. A pod of dolphins leap nearby - they don't need bait to fish. The wind created by the boat's motion keeps us cool.

Cerralvo, the southernmost island in the Sea of Cortez, is uninhabited. Cruising nearer, we can see the green scrub and cardon cactus, similar to Arizona's saguaro, that cover much of the island. Luciano, our pangero, is looking for the birds that tip off the location of baitfish. He spots some pelicans.

Chapman takes the tiller as we work a few feet from shore. The close proximity to rocks doesn't faze him. Chapman was a Navy combat photographer and survived the sinking of the aircraft carrier Wasp during the battle of Guadalcanal in World War II.

Luciano, poised at the bow, sees fish, throws his net and stamps his feet in the pangero's flamenco dance that startles the baitfish, causing them to school together. Luciano yells ``reverso.''

Luciano hauls in a load of shiny herring as Chapman backs up the panga. ``Sardina,'' Luciano calls them. It sounds silly, but fly fishing in salt water takes a lot of bait - not on hooks - but thrown in the water as chum to get the fish near the surface and excited enough to take a fly.

The sun turns bronze. Rays of sunlight fan out across the sky, partially hidden by a few clouds, like an artist's conception of heaven. Soon the sun will burn the clouds and the only way to cool off will be to jump in the water for a swim.

Testing a new fly design, Chapman casts his Big Black-eyed Baja Bubbler. Fish are known to target the eyes of their prey, so Chapman exaggerates the size of the eyes on the foam and flash fly.

Chapman is fishing with a roll cast. He injured his arm and can't make his usual overhead cast. But a sierra mackerel grabs his big eye fly and is soon in the cooler. Luciano will use it to make cerveche, raw fish marinated in lime juice.

Gary Bulla, the guide who has organized this trip, breaks off a fish and tells his pangero that he ``farmered'' it. Translated, it becomes ``ranchero'' and for the rest of the trip when someone messes up and loses a fish, they've ``ranchero-ed'' it.

On the way back to the mainland, we fish for roosterfish. Chapman trolls a live sardina to tease the roosters, so called because of their cockscomb-like dorsal fin. The plan is to excite the fish with the real thing. Then I'll cast one of Chapman's pencil poppers to the roosterfish.

A rooster's comb cuts through the water as it chases the bait. When it sees my fly it follows it for a heart-stopping moment, then peels off. No sale.

The sun, high in the sky, is a blazing white skyrocket burst that dazzles in the clear blue.

We might be mad, but we're having fun.

CAPTION(S):

4 photos

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) Black skipjack, above, are in Baja waters as are the skipjack tuna Jeff Priest of Torrance is fighting.

(3 -- 4) Captain Luciano, above, casts a net in Baja hoping to bring in a load of bait for the fly-fisherman. Below, Jeff Priest holds a roosterfish he caught fly fishing at Cerralvo Island in Baja Mexico.

Bill Becher/Special to the Daily News