TAMPICO: SEA FISHING AND SURF BATHING. 



The pleasant chill of the soft sea 

 breeze coming through the windows, 

 the muffled roll of the gentle surf, the 

 morning grey chasing the darkness 

 from the glassy ocean, the twittering of 

 the beach birds as they flitter upon the 

 sands, all call us from our berths. Let 

 us get into the sea before the sun gets 

 out of it. A plunge and then our 

 coffee. The "99" had been run down 

 to the beach the night before and stood 

 at the end of the spur but a few yards 

 from the water. In light and airy 

 deshabille, we skipped across the sands 

 and into the briny. A plunge through 

 a roller, a roll on the sand, another dip 

 in the water and then back again to our 

 car and coffee. The rosy bkish of the 

 storm-compelling clouds whose purple 

 masses edged with streaks of feathery 

 silver and red gold hanging in the east 

 promise to shade and defend us from 

 the rays of a southern sun and glare of 

 a shimmering sea. Give the impedi- 

 ments to the mozo. Leave the sun 

 umbrellas in the car, we will not need 

 them; those clouds will serve instead, 

 and now along the beach, past the bath 

 houses, pavilion and cantina to the 

 jetties. Do yuu notice the sand, how 

 smooth it is ? Millions and millions of 

 shells have been ground and polished 

 by. the breakers in its fabrication. 

 Those bluish irridescent little naviga- 

 tors that you see sailing on the waves 

 are "Portugese men of war," a pleasant 

 combination of sailor and shell fish who 

 come out to sail on days like this. 

 Don't handle them, they are very 

 poisonous, at times. Look at the grey 

 alcatrasas, with long bills and short 

 legs, as they come sailing over the 



waves but a few inches above the water, 

 rising and falling with the waves. 

 They are professional anglers, not 

 amateurs like ourselves. Those long 

 walls jutting far out into the sea are 

 the jetties that have changed Tampico 

 from an obscure port for light draft 

 craft into the best harbor in the re- 

 public. When the northers blow, they 

 are a streak of white foam on a dark 

 green sea. Millicms of tons of stone and 

 thousands of piles were used in their 

 construction. Notice how the waves 

 have thrown the huge blocks about. 

 This beach where we now stand was 

 once well out to sea, but the shifting 

 sands have been held here by the dyke. 

 Those sails that you see in the offing 

 are fishing craft on their way to the 

 snapper banks, and these near-by 

 canoes, with Indians standing in the 

 bow and paddler sitting at the stern, 

 catch their fish by spearing them. The 

 harpoon is a light affair with a bamboo 

 shaft, the iron being tied to it. About 

 fifty feet of strong line is attached to 

 the shaft for use when a large fish is 

 struck. Some of those harpooners are 

 wonderfully skillful and sharp sighted. 

 We will make a trip with them after 

 trying our luck ' ' chumming. " Beyond 

 the south jetty is a sand bar enclosing 

 a brackish lake. There is good shooting 

 around it. There must have been a 

 heavy rain in the hills within a day or 

 two as the river is full of driftwood, a 

 good omen for our day's fishing. See 

 the crows come sailing along on the 

 drifting trees. They are ready to pick 

 up all unconsidered trifles that float by. 

 All is fish that comes to their net, from 

 a drowned rat to an undrownable river 



