Marla's 11/1/19


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler
I woke up Friday morning, November first,
and grabbed a cab to LAX.
I hopped on board a Delta flight something something,
bound for Puerto Vallarta.
Sunny Mexico, baby.
I was on an undercover mission to find out all I could about
the Marla's Sportfishing group.

Bit of background.
Five or six years ago,
a fishin' buddy the Mexicans call El Chivo,
took me down to Pee Vee for the first time.
I've been going back,
mostly by myself,
ever since.

I wasn't happy with the quality I got from my guy last year,
so I decided to shop around for a new source.
Word on the street was,
the Marla Boys had the good stuff.
and that's what I wanted.

I googled em.
Made a few inquiries.

Last June, they posted up some info on their website,
about a new boat they were building.
A fifty footer, built for six passenger, multi days.
No Tuna, No Chinga they were gonna call it.
They were selling a few open party trips to break it in,
beginning November 1st.

I contacted the office,
and I sent a deposit.
I bought an airline ticket.
I started counting days.

My plane ride was easy.
The scenery was stunning.
All of the hurricanes this season had turned the landscape into a palette of greens and reds with a blue border.

The airport was deserted.
Too early for snowbirds right now.
I gathered my bags,
and headed outside into the afternoon sun,
and felt the oven like heat,
wafting up from the ground.

I headed over to my pick-up spot,
and waited in the shade for my driver to arrive.
I looked across the highway, and I could see a short man working on a hot grill.
The menu said he was cooking fresh marlin.
Man, I thought, how do they survive the heat in the kitchen?

About an hour passed,
a couple of texts to the office,
and I was thinking about what options were available to me for a three day weekend in Puerto Vallarta,
when a slender, Hispanic gentleman walked up to me,
and asked if I was waiting for Marla's.
I told him I was.
He said his name was Gustavo,
and he would be providing the transportation to the boat.
He said there were supposed to be two more gentlemen waiting.
Not here, I said.
He went off to look for them.

About a half hour passed,
and here comes two guys,
one of them's on the phone,
talking and walking,
the other is looking for a cool drink.
Sort of looked like fisherman.
The guy on the phone asks me if I'm Josh?
No, but it's close.

We introduce ourselves to each other.
It's Martin, pronounced Mar-teen when south of the border,
and Brandon, pronounced the same on both sides of the border.
They're a couple of buds from Riverside, California approximately.
We chit chat until Gustavo returns.
Martin is fluent in Spanish,
so I put my fate in their hands.

It was getting late in the day now.
We were heading north on a highway,
the warm breeze in our face.
Another half hour or so,
we pulled off the highway in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle.
Gustavo drove us down to the beach,
where the marina was located.
Someone was there to greet us,
and take our gear down to the boat.
Funny thing was,
the boat certainly wasn't new,
and the name on the back wasn't No Tuna, No Chinga!

Captain Roberto Osuna introduced himself,
and welcomed us to Mexico.
He suggested we stow our gear on board,
and go enjoy a nice dinner at the restaurant at the top of the dock.
He told us Martin and Brandon's fishing buddy was waiting for them there,
along with the two other members of our group.

I took Roberto aside,
and told him I had bought a ticket for the No Tuna.
What's up?
He told me the new boat wasn't ready yet,
but he had this other boat,
in the meantime,
and he was prepared to go out,
and try for the tuna.

Man, I thought to myself,
the old "bait & switch",
and I fell for it hook, line & sinker.
And I've been around the block before.

Last time I saw this trick was on a dock in Cabo San Lucas,
decades ago.
I wondered if there was going to be the equivalent of a "Baja boat ride" included.
That's when they treat you like a tourist,
show you some scenery,
and expend no real energy fishing for big game.

"It would have been nice",
I thought to myself,
if someone from the boat,
had called or emailed,
and said,
"listen josh, the boat's not gonna be ready in time for your trip.
Do you want to reschedule for later,
and lose your airfare?
Or, do you want to come on down,
and fish a different boat?
Which do you prefer?"

I'm just sayin',
"it would have been nice,"
The whole purpose of the trip actually,
was to check out the new boat,
and consider it for use as a charter,
sometime in the future.

I'm standing on the dock with Capitan Roberto,
feeling defeated before I started.
Looking at that big, soft, smiling, baby face of his,
I couldn't get real angry.

He's obviously a professional.
I'm not talking about his fishing skills.
The sleight of hand.
The turn of the card.
Even though I was pissed off,
at myself, as much as anyone,
for betting on this hand,
I had to admire his smooth play.

I was getting dealed,
and it looked like I was gonna take it,
standing up.

I thought again about those other options for three days in Puerto Vallarta,
that didn't involve going to jail,
going to a hospital,
or going to the morgue.

What do you do when life deals you some lemons?
If you're like me, you go fishing.

With a heavy sigh,
and the bitter taste of disappointment lingering in my mouth,
I headed up the dock with Martin & Brandon to dinner.

The restaurant was empty except for the employees,
and three tough looking customers,
sitting at a table,
next to the big, wide open bay window.
The view of the marina beneath us,
and the setting sun beyond.

Martin and Brandon introduced me,
to their pal, Peter, from Orange County, California.
Peter, in turn, introduced us,
to Nick, from Seattle,
and Jake, from southern Washington,
spitting distance from the Columbia River.

I went to wash the road dirt off of my face and hands,
and when I returned,
someone had put a shot glass of something,
I presumed tequila,
at my seat at the table.
Everyone else had a shot in front of them.

I sat down,
raised my glass,
and said, "here's to Success."
The tequila tasted good,
and flushed the last residue of bitterness from my mouth.

The Washi boys were done eating,
and Peter appeared to be struggling with his dinner selection this evening.
We ordered some more food and drinks,
and got to know each other a little bit.

They were all different,
and they were all the same.
They were all young guys,
but different sizes.
They looked to be in their thirties.
early to late.
They were all obviously successful enough in their indiviual careers to pursue big game sport fishing as a hobby.
They had different levels of angling experience.
They all came with the same goal.
Land a big one.

After dinner,
we moseyed on down to the boat,
where we got the lay of the land,
and met the rest of the crew,

Roberto would be driving the boat for us,
Second captain, Senor Tatalo, with crew member, Senor Antonio, would be working the deck,
taking care of all of our fishing needs.
Chef Fernando Macedo would be "at your service" in the galley.
"Welcome aboard."

Ten men on a forty sixer for three days.
Manly men doing manly things in a manly fashion.
He lifted the lid on a 100 and something quart cooler,
stuffed with soda, beer, water, and ice,
and said, "Help yourself."
They never did that on the other boats I rode.

Down below deck level,
the Washi boys had got there first,
and snagged what looked like the master's cabin.
The rest of us were stacked up in the bow like passengers on the Amistad.
There was a faint odor of sewage in the hallway leading to our quarters,
that I hoped would go away, but never did.

We made a quick stop just outside the marina,
to fill our bait tanks with fresh, live caballitos,
from a couple of fellows who would be working the night shift on Banderas Bay.

Darkness fell,
the coast line lit itself up,
and we slowly motored our way northwest towards the Tres Marias island group.

2454 big mike

I've posted enough I should edit this section
Aug 31, 2015
Party crasher
So far a great story as usual Joe. Hope things got better.


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler

I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee and burning cigarette.
When I got upstairs, Fernando was waiting for me with a steel thermos mug full of coffee.
"Jose", he said, "I want you to use this cup for all of your drinks during the course of the voyage.
When the trip is over, take it home with you as a souvenir."
They never did that on the other boats I rode.

(Of course, every time I look at that mug,
with this other boat's name,
I'll be reminded of this little trick they played on me.
The Mug probably won't be front and center in the trophy case.
and depending on how this trip goes,
it might not even make it home.)

The coffee was good and strong.
The air was crisp and cool.
Fernando handed me a bowl full of fruit, nuts, berries, yogurt, and cereal clusters.
Wow, what a way to start the day.
They never did that on the other boats I rode down here.

Sometime, during the early morning hours,
while we still slept,
the boat had stopped,
and snagged some live squids,
to be added to today's bait menu.

We were presently trolling for small skip jack tuna.
The boat is equipped with six tuna tubes on the stern.
Each is like a three foot length of 6 or 8 inch PVC pipe or similar,
mounted vertically.
The bottom end of the tube is capped,
and plumbed for saltwater to enter,
and keep the tube constantly fed with fresh supply.
The skippies,
when we catch them,
go down in the tube, head first.
The fresh supply of salt water passes thru their gills,
keeps them alive,
and the dark interior of the tube,
keeps them calm.

We made enough bait,
and Roberto said, "let's go fishing guys".
I looked at my watch,
it was eight thirty.

The ocean looked lively this morning,
always a good sign.
There were birds flying, and fish jumping,
here and there,
way off in the distance,
as we headed off to our starting point.

Of course, it wasn't too hot yet,
and there was some high cloud cover today that would occasionally provide a bit of shade.

We stopped and put out a couple of helium balloons with bait underneath.
We put some squids on the sinker rigs to fish deep,
and we had some guys at the rail,
fly-lining the caballitos.
It was a nice morning.

It got a lot nicer half an hour later,
when Roberto,
fishing one of the live skippies on the fly,
hooked a fish for Brandon.

Brandon did a nice job of wrestling that fish to the boat,
and it was on the deck a half hour later.
They tape measured it up,
put the numbers in the calculator,
and told us it weighed two hundred and sixty three pounds.
Wow, what a way to start the day.

They gave both of them a chance to rest.
They hosed off Brandon,
and the tuna,
for some pics.
Brandon said, "Thank You very much",
and went in for some breakfast.
Huevos y tocino en la cocina!
Eggs and bacon in the kitchen!

Ten a.m., and we were back on the move, hunting for them.
An hour passes.
We stop to fish and Marteen hooks one this time.
He fought it hard for a while,
and then the line broke.

Roberto spots some more skipjack in the distance,
and puts out the trolling rigs.
We get a couple, and put them on the outriggers to troll them slowly,
way back behind the boat.

It's High Noon.

Capitan Roberto tells me that this time of year,
these skip jack tuna are the Golden Ticket.
He says that,
for whatever reason,
the big yellowfin really seem to zone in on those baits.
He tells me it's really worth the time and effort spent to catch them.
They never did that on the other boats I rode down here.

One p.m. now,
and we are on the move.
Far away, a large group of birds are working over a school of bait fish,
probably being eaten by tuna.
We get there in time to view the biggest, brightest school of bait I've ever seen.
Thousands of them, clamoring over each other, trying to escape the prey below.
It looked like liquid, molten silver spread out over the size of a football field.
Just another National Geographic moment down here.

Around one thirty,
Seattle Nick hooks one on a live bait.

Soon after, the kite rod in the bow gets bit,
and O.C. Pete takes over the controls.
Nick's bust loose,
but Pete get's his on the boat.
They measure it and Pete takes over the yellow jersey,
signifying leader of the race.
His tuna goes two sixty eight,
and Pete goes airborne.

Three p.m. and we're trolling for skippies again.
Fernando is serving a light lunch, a conch salad.
Similar to abalone, mild but chewy.
It was good, and it was good for your body.
And of course, they never did that on the other boats...

Four p.m.
Fernando prepares a vodka/pineapple juice cocktail for me.
It's been a tough day.

Five thirty p.m.
Still hunting.

Six forty five p.m.,
and we stop to fish a spot.
Seven p.m. and it's Marteen's turn to get bit for the second time today.
Remember he lost that one this morning to a break off.
This time, the tackle does it's job,
and he lands a 100 pound class yellow fin tuna.

Maybe it was because of what he saw,
or maybe it was the tug he felt earlier today,
but almost seems disappointed with this one.
He shakes it off, though,
and posses for some great pics for the paparazzi.

The Captain called it a day, and headed off to the squid grounds.

We had got three,
we had lost two.
I told the lads we were off to a very good start.
Eight p.m.
and I was showered,
sitting in the galley,
waiting for seared ahi,
ala Fernando.

The tortellini he served with it,
could have been a meal by itself.


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler

I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee,
and burning cigarette tobacco.

At seven a.m.,
after another one of Fernando's energy packed fruit bowls,
we were fishing again

Overnight, the crew had replenished our supply of squids,
and netted a couple of bonus puffer fish.
Those are like tuna candy.

We're using all of that stuff this morning.
A multi pronged attack.

One of the young lads,
Washington Jake,
has brought along his own reel.
It's a nifty little Accurate brand,
especially made for a left hander.

Jake is a real friendly, good old boy.
He's built, big, and strong.
I'm sure he could wind them in with either hand.

Senor Antonio pins on the little puffie,
and Jake is fishing.

About an hour later,
Jake and his puffy are hoisting their first tuna aboard.
It's about a hundred and fifty pounds.
Caught on his own outfit.
That's special.

Nine a.m.
and we are trolling for skippies,
while the crew cleans Jake's fish.
The loins are cut,
then sliced,
then bagged,
chamber sealed,
and put on ice.
Nice way to start the day.

By ten, the tuna tubes are full,
and we go back on the hunt.

Roberto bridles up a skippy for me.
That involves threading a linen line thru what would be the fishes "nostrils",
if it had nostrils.
The linen line is looped around the shank of a BIG hook.

San Diego Long range anglers call them "man baits".
Because of the baits' large profile,
it takes a big fish to eat one.
Ergo, using one increases the odds of hooking a "biggun", dramatically.
I'm sure you get the picture.

I was the last man standing without a bite now.
Roberto tossed that skippy over the rail,
and it took off like a bat out of hell,
headed straight back there.

Straight down.
It took about a half spool of line before he ran out of gas.
I started my retrieve, working the bait hard, swimming it back to the boat.
I had wound about half of my line back on the reel when I got slammed.
The big tuna was taking line, and I was letting him have it.

I angled myself into a position where I could put a bend in the rod,
and set the hook in the big fishes' mouth.
As soon as I did, I lost him.
I wound in the rest of my line, and found a frayed end.
The spectra woven line probably had gotten nicked or damaged somewhere,
causing the failure.
That's fishing.

I head into the galley for some of Fernando's grub to console myself with.
It's carne asada tacos on the menu now.
He has brought a bag of a blue corn masa with him,
and is pressing out his fresh tortillas,
and grilling 'em right there.
Fresh, and delicious, it was.

Eleven thirty a.m.,
and Seattle Nick is fishing a skippy in the bow.
He's on his seventh,
or eighth retrieve of the bait,
when he gets slammed.

One p.m.,
and Nick's man bait has turned into a huge tuna.
They calculated it's weight at three hundred and twenty seven pounds.
Wow, a super cow.
That's what they call them when they go over the three hundred mark.

admiring the fish,
takes off and hands the yellow jersey to Nick,
our new leader.

Nick, up to that point, had been a bit quiet,
almost reserved.
He was pretty lively right now though.
He was one tough hombre.

Two p.m.
and we're fishing again.

Three thirty,
and we're slow trolling skippies.
Pete is tending the starboard corner when the rod goes bendo.
I'm standing silently behind him,
watching that big tuna take drag,
as he yells for me.

With the boat still going forward,
and the tuna going backwards,
the pressure makes it near impossible for Pete to get the rod out of the holder.

Antonio is on us like a flash,
and with his huge forearms,
pushes the rod back,
and lifts it out of the holder.

He hands it me,
but is reluctant to let it go.
I don't blame him.
Finally, he's confident enough I have it, and let's go.

It took me a moment to re-adjust,
and brace myself against the pull.
I found a spot in the corner and put a big bend in the rod.
The tuna stopped pulling,
and starting letting me have some line back.

I fought him as long,
and as hard as I could,
in that hot sun,
and after I softened him up real good,
and worked him over some more on our way to the bow,
my body told me it wasn't having fun anymore,
so I handed the tuna off to Roberto,
for El corte de muerte.

It was about eighty kilos (180 lbs.).
Roberto and I posed together for some pics.
I thanked him for the experience.
I thanked Peter for the hand off.
I thanked Antonio for getting the rod out of holder.

Six p.m.,
and we've been in skippy jail.
We can't buy a bite.
And now, Roberto seems very concerned the boat is having a electrical problem.

As Tatalo attempts to diagnose the problem,
we're slowly trolling some live skipjack,
and the rod in the port corner gets slammed.

Antonio runs to the corner,
pushing anglers out of the way,
in an effort to get the rod out of the holder,
and bury that big hook inside the tuna's mouth.

When he's confident he has,
he hands the rod back to Brandon.
Brandon shows us he's got some game, too.
Puts a masterful whipping on another victim.
They tape measured it, and told us it was 218 lbs.,
as darkness fell.

Roberto tells us we have no 110 volt power,
so Fernando will be unable to operate his grill tonight.
Roberto says Fernando is going to make us some sandwiches,
so relax, get showered,
and we'll take care of the boat.

Nine p.m.,
On what should have been a festive night,
celebrating our magnificent day/trip,
we are instead sitting in the darkened galley,
and we're feasting on cold sandwiches,
made of the smoked albacore and salmon,
that Washington Nick had brought along as a treat.

I tallied up today's score while I munched.
Jake & his Puffy this morning.
I lost one.
Seattle got his Super.
Pete's handoff to me.
Brandon's second cow.
Wow. Pretty nice day.

I hit the rack,
and had almost dozed off,
when I heard voices,
and then a hammer banging.
Somehow, the downstairs bathroom door,
had locked itself.

Tatalo took a break from repairing the generator,
put on his ships' carpenter hat,
and came down with a hammer and chisel.
I heard a lot of giggling behind him,
as he searched for a solution.
he got the door open.
And Peter got his shower.

Afterwards, we spent a nice, quiet night in the lee of the island,
sleeping peacefully,
while the crew attempted to repair the generator.


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler

Six a.m.,
yup, you got it,
coffee and cigarettes.

"Who wants to go fishing?", Roberto yells out to all of us.
"If you do, time to get up now."
A Fernando fruit bowl to start the day.

For the next couple of hours,
Roberto took us to a high spot,
and we fished for bottom critters, like,
dog tooth snapper,
and some grouper species,

I was standing at the rail,
getting ready to take a picture with my phone,
really minding my own business,
when Antonio approaches me,
carrying a bent rod.
He motions for me to take it over,
and I reluctantly accept the hand-over.

I played the fish like a guy not in a hurry.
I took note of the fact,
that for some reason,
I was grinning.
This shit sure brings out the child in you,
doesn't it?

Eventually, I worked a nice permit close to the boat.
Roberto carefully gaffed it's lip,
hoisted it aboard,
and gingerly removed the hook.
He ran and got his camera so we could get a picture of me,
releasing it.
That was pretty cool.

Nine a.m,
and we went looking for skippies.
while Fernando served up a meat-lover's breakfast inside the galley.

When breakfast was over,
we started trolling some skippies,
then stopped to fish bait.
Antonio set me up with another man bait rig.
I gave it the old "in and out" routine,
until the skippy expired.
Lefty Jake hooked a sailfish,
and gave it a long distance release.

Ten thirty a.m.,
and I was tending another ballon rig this time.

Eleven a.m.,
dreadfully slow today.
No sign of life around.

We went on the troll with some high speed diving plugs,
for an hour,
for nada
Two thirty p.m.,
painfully slow continues.
Ample time to reflect on our success the first two days.
Ample time to pick Roberto's brain for answers.
I ask him what he thinks about those boats from San Diego,
that come down here in the winter.
"Naturally, we would prefer that they were not here.
But, it's not up to us."

Time for some Sushi, ala Fernando.
Fernando, justifiably so, had a lot of pride in his work.
His sushi was a fusion of new and old ingredients.
I thought of Anthony Bourdain as I watched him,
and sampled his wares.

The slow fishing meant more drinking.
More drinking led to a request for music.
More music, and more drinking meant,
someone later,
was dancing on the deck.

I didn't see it myself.
They told me about it later.
Still not sure I believe them.

We called it a trip,
and started cleaning ourselves up.
Fernando prepared some lobsters for grilling.


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Sep 8, 2006
Ed Hayden
Pro-line 22 Walk
Great story! I'll be down in a week and a half. Very excited.




I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler

We woke up.
Well, you know the rest.

We packed up our crap.

Ten men doing manly things in a manly way,
meant we were anxious for a hot shower,
a real toilet,
where you didn't have to hold your finger on the button,
while you tap the motor with a pair of pliers.
And our own beds to sleep in.

We got back to La Cruz,
and dropped off Antonio,
said good-bye to O.C. Pete,
who had an early flight to catch,
and said adios to Capitan Roberto Osuna,
with a warm embrace.

Seven thirty a.m.,
Senor Tatalo is driving us back to downtown Puerto Vallarta.

Chef Fernando has drawn the short straw,
and is stuck baby sitting us until it's our time to leave for the airport.
We went and had a nice breakfast.
The lads were able to catch up on their devices.
I was the only one watching the scenery go by.

we did some strolling along the malecon,
and shopping for souvenirs.

We said good-bye to Washi boys,
and then it was our turn to grab a taxi.
I gave Chef Fernando a warm embrace,
and thanked him for taking care of me so well.
I said good-bye to Brandon and Martin at the airport.
All them guys were a pleasure to fish with,
and share a boat with.

I had plenty of time to reflect on the past few days during the ride home.
I wondered how many more trips like this I could handle.

El Fin


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Aug 20, 2010
San Diego
Any Boat that I can go on
Awesome Report Josh ;)
thanks again for taking me to that good place.

You have many more trips ahead of you
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Nov 8, 2019
Martin Espinoza
had a blast reading this! You put me back on vacation! Hope to get another chance to kill some big tuna with you brotha. Take care and thank you again for the post.

Here’s a few pictures from the trip. I’m gathering more from the guys and will share them as come.

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Joe!!!!!! Agree I agree with Peter you put me back on vacation mode and had my wife and kids on edge as I was reading your post. It was a pleasure fishing with you and hope to get the squad together again to kill some cows and for me to regain my revenge on catching my super cow one day
Nov 8, 2019
Martin Espinoza
Joe!!!!!! Agree I agree with Peter you put me back on vacation mode and had my wife and kids on edge as I was reading your post. It was a pleasure fishing with you and hope to get the squad together again to kill some cows and for me to regain my revenge on catching my super cow one day

scott v

I've posted enough I should edit this section
Sep 3, 2011
Rancho Santa Margarita
Keep wishing
Curious if you feel the Osuna’s run a better operation than the SD boats. Fishing hopefully the no tuna no Chinga in Feb. which I think you might be on. Chivo doesn’t invite me on his trips anymore so thought I might try something different.


I've posted enough I should edit this section
Jul 27, 2009
los angeles
17 Boston Whaler
Well, after sleeping on it a couple of nights,
I can tell you this.
The Osunas have been doing it since 1983.
They own a fleet of boats.
The guys on my crew were XLNT.
I still think not telling me the boat wasn't ready is shady.
I'm one little gringo.
They won't miss me.
You won't see me in February.
I'll try something different too.


Cow Club Member
Oct 12, 2016
Orange County, CA
Curious if you feel the Osuna’s run a better operation than the SD boats. Fishing hopefully the no tuna no Chinga in Feb. which I think you might be on. Chivo doesn’t invite me on his trips anymore so thought I might try something different.
I can tell you it’s not all about the business with these guys. They live to kill cow tuna. The last day we all had a tuna, most PB’s. All the boys wanted to hangout and relax. The crew was fishing or catering, sun up to sun down. It’s not a San Diego boat and it’s great.
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Quit Wishing, Go Fishing.
Oct 30, 2011
Bend, Oregon USA
"Skool Bus" - 2004 Calabria ProV I
Picasso, once again you have taken a bare canvas and painted a picture for us, as you well know that is a picture of a thousand words. Again as I read your tale I am reminded of the beginning of the old show Dragnet, that matter of fact take it or leave it statement style.

I truly appreciate the time you took and it has further whetted my appetite for our visit in just eleven short days!
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Nov 6, 2008
Nick Rekrut
Curious if you feel the Osuna’s run a better operation than the SD boats. Fishing hopefully the no tuna no Chinga in Feb. which I think you might be on. Chivo doesn’t invite me on his trips anymore so thought I might try something different.

Open invite for you buddy!!


i came i saw i conquered
Sep 3, 2014
Master Baiter 19' Trophy CC
Man you have a great talent for writing !!! It is my dream to one day share a boat with the NO TUNA NO CHINGA and Capt Osuna's team in PV . Thank you for an awesome report while i sit here in my shitty cubicle .
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