Dream Catcher: The Hunt

The hunt begins

Long fins drove the silent hunter through transparent waters. The tropical sun dappled the white sand bottom with shifting shadows as a strong wind tore at the water’s surface. A school of Margates, some dozen strong, gathered near one of the isolated coral heads that rose a few feet from the bleached bottom. A few of the larger Margates were at least eighteen inches long, well worth consideration. Suddenly, a dark flicker against the white sand bottom receded into the distant blue horizon drawing the hunter's attention. A trio of much larger Margates, nearly twice the size of their brethren, were swimming casually towards the rock where the smaller Margates huddled as they nervously eyed the black quadruped studying them from afar.

Abandoning the smaller targets for the larger, the hunter withdrew to the surface for a deep breath and then jackknifed into the crystalline depths, avoiding sudden movements that might startle the bigger fish. Sensing trouble, the trio split, each headed in a different direction – and away from the ungainly grey and black shape that intruded into their domain. Silvery-white scales blended seamlessly with the sandy background of the bottom. Only the dark flick of the tail and the smaller dorsal fins gave away their location.

Carefully kicking twenty feet to the bottom, the hunter lined up behind a lone Margate. Suspecting trouble, it now moved first to the left and then to the right, trying to keep an obsidian eye on the strange creature that followed behind. As the gap slowly closed, the Margate anxiously twitched away from the dark form. Too late! A shiny shaft leapt from the hunter's hand and struck the fish’s side. Exploding away from the encounter, the fish raced towards a safe haven, but few of the coral heads nearby could protect a fish of his bulk. The hunter's thrust had hurt the Margate, but not enough to disable it.

First tag of the Margate

Now, the hunter was forced to return to his world for air. As he rose towards the shimmering light, he kept his eye on his wounded quarry. From past experience, the hunter knew that his target might escape to another rock in the briefest instant of looking away. Quite a few fish had been lost that way. This one would not escape as easily.

Forcing deep breaths into starved lungs, the hunter dove again into the depths. The coral head chosen for refuge had a large gap along the bottom. A silvery form nervously twitched inside, wanting to escape, but knowing that certain risk existed outside the coral walls that provided protection.

The hunter drew back the pole spear stretching the elastic bands at one end to their limits and tightly gripping the spear shaft. Once he released his grip, the spear would leap forwards and penetrate the fish, but only if he was within a foot of his target. Further away and the spear might only bounce off the fish – especially if the bony head was hit instead of the softer body behind the head.

Now inches above the powdery bleached debris of the ocean floor, the hunter came ever closer to the coral head and the hidden form within. Reaching forwards, almost out of air, the hunter loosened his grip and the spear knifed through the water, penetrating the fish behind the gills. The stainless steel point passed all the way through the body. As the startled fish jerked to get away from the sudden pain, two hinged barbs deployed, preventing the spear from pulling out of the fish.

You can run, but you can't hide!

As the fish desperately tried to swim away, jerking the pole from side to side, the hunter dragged his quarry to the surface and the air he urgently needed. Powerful thrusts of his fins sent him rushing to the surface. Breaking the surface, he sucked in a deep breath as he struggled to lift his bleeding fish above the water. It wouldn’t do to let its anxious movements and leaking fluids encourage any of the sharks in the area to come investigate further.

With the fish safely in the dinghy, the hunter returned to his lonely quest. The waters were vast and seemingly limitless with fish. It was a good day.

The Jumentos and Ragged Islands are truly gems in the Bahamas archipelago. They are a string of small cays and rocks that form a “C” shape about 30 miles south of the Exumas. The southernmost island, is only sixty miles from Cuba. What sets this area apart is a combination of spectacularly clear water and fish of all sizes and shapes. Sure, there are powdery white beaches and palm trees, but you’ll find that everywhere in the Bahamas. This place has the best fishing of any area I’ve seen. When I say “fishing”, I mean spearing. Snorkeling until you find your quarry and then trying to get it in the dinghy and onto the dinner table.

A Flamingo Cay mermaid!

I first tried fishing last year, introduced to it by my friends Bernie and Andrea on Rollick. I was a dismal failure for most of my experience. Last year, I might have speared about a dozen fish, but most of them were Glasseye snappers, which basically are frozen in place – hoping their dark red color hides them. It doesn’t at all, and luckily they are tasty eating with a delicate white flesh. However, they rarely are larger than a foot – so we don’t fillet them, we cook them whole and eat them.

It’s been a real struggle to learn which fish to go after and understand their behaviors. The more exposure the fish have to mankind, the more skittish they are, so in the Exumas, the fish are very wary. In the Jumentos, the fish are much less startled by human interlopers and there are ten times the amount of fish – especially larger ones.

OK, which one of you wants to get eaten?

We spent about five days at Flamingo Cay with Rollick. The wind was howling 20-25 knots the whole time we were there, but the island protected us and sheltered the waters that were our hunting grounds. Every day we’d go out in the dinghies for a couple hours and look for fish. Everywhere else I’ve been, you have to find big complex reefs to find fish. Here, in 20-25 feet of water, there were isolated coral heads of much smaller size – seemingly too small to support the bigger fish. But they were everywhere! Every day would bring hogfish, snapper, margates and grouper to our dinghies. Instead of spending all day looking for fish, we were full-up within an hour or two. It was a bountiful feast!

There is certainly something primal about hunting for food. For me, so immersed in technology and the modern world, it is a radical transformation to become a hunter. The fact that we have to use the thrust of our spear, instead of some high-tech alternative, grounds us further in the past. The fact that I can feed my family doing this puts me in touch with men reaching back to the dawn of our time.

Even if the next time I go out and completely fail at getting fish, I did have this one period of time when I reached into the distant past and became something else - just one more of our many Bahamas memories.