“What kind of fish is this?”
“It's a parrotfish.”
“Is it edible?”
“No.”
“Fuck.”
I utter that last line of dialogue
under my breath, for I'm talking with a six-year-old. This is an
endearing boat-kid who obviously has much to teach me about fish and
fishing. He's probably sailed more miles than me, to boot. He's 6.
I'm 41.
Normally I would ask Paul, the kid's
dad, before spearing the fish. But Paul is many meters away,
pole-spear in hand, surveying the reef and knowing which of the
hundreds of fish we see are good eating. Parrotfish aren't good
eating. That's why there's so many of them and they're so easy to
spear. I just ended a life with impunity, without guilt, because I
thought I'd be putting food on the table. Now I get to live with the
guilt and, more importantly, the dead fish gets to do or feel nothing
ever again.
We are snorkeling and spear-fishing in
a reef just west of Water Cay, in the Jumentos Cays. The sail to
Water from Thompson Bay in Long Island took Shambala
and Taia eight hours.
For the next few days we'll be exploring these uninhabited islands
with Shambala. Two
boats, two families, many uninhabited islands, beaches, clear water,
and plenty of fish to catch and eat.
 |
| Young crews of Shambala and Taia |
Paul
has been teaching me to spear-fish, and this is my second time
wielding a pole-spear in a reef. The first time was a few days ago,
in Elizabeth Harbour, where we caught nothing (but we swam with a
dolphin for a good half hour, which was a much better experience than
killing fish whimsically). But now we're in the Jumentos, and because
these cays are so isolated and out of the way, they're not heavily
fished. There are all sorts of fish living in reefs that have all
sorts of corals. And there are barely any other boats around!
After
that sour experience with the parrotfish, I make sure to ask Paul
what fish is good for eating. He points at a triggerfish and assures
me those are good eating. I proceed to spear not one, but two of
them. Not too shabby for a n00b! And on the way back to the boat I
pick up a few conch.
 |
| The first fish I speared (that was edible) |
That
night we had a feast: triggerfish, hogfish, conch, and grouper. Staci
from Shambala did most
of the cooking. The sea is plentiful and can give these two families
all the protein we need.
 |
| Buena Vista Cay |
From
Water Cay we sailed to Flamingo Cay. While spear-fishing in Flamingo
I realized that around here we can easily become somebody else's
dinner. As we swam around in the biggest finger coral reef I've ever
seen, we saw a few barracuda and two bull sharks. Barracuda make me
uneasy, but I'm slowly getting used to them being around. Apparently
they only attack if they feel threatened. A small bull shark that
swims by can also be safely ignored. But a big one, maybe bigger than
a grown man, falls under the category of
“let's-get-the-fuck-out-of-here.” We saw one such bull shark.
Thus I came to the realization that spear-fishing can put food on the
table, but I'm competing for food with local predators that are at
the top of the food chain.
 |
| Taia, Shambala, and their crews in Buena Vista Cay |
In
Raccoon Cay Paul and I went spear-fishing again. After a couple of
hours in the water, we came back with a school master and two
glasseye snappers. I got a chance to improve my fish-cleaning skills
using the school master as the subject of my butchery. Then Paul
taught me how to gill and gut one of the glasseyes. We were doing this
at the beach with water up to our ankles. While Paul expertly worked
on the first glasseye, I decided to rinse off a knife and a cutting
board. That wasn't a smart move on my part.
Suddenly,
Paul yelped and jumped out of the water. Not knowing what was going
on, I looked back and saw a shark not 2 meters away from where Paul
was standing. I proceeded to unceremoniously get out of the water, as
fast as my legs would take me. The shark had smelled the small amount
of fish blood I'd just rinsed. And here I was thinking that I was
very clever for dumping a fish carcass and some discarded pieces of
fish in a bucket rather than in the water. What hungry creature would
smell that tiny amount of blood I'd just rinsed off?
Sharks.
Bull sharks. The kind of shark that might have gone for a human ankle
thinking that was the source of the blood. Fortunately we both got
out of the water before the first shark helped himself.
We
ended up spending a good 20 minutes looking at the sharks. And we
gave them both glasseye snappers, just to be able to see them thrash
in a shallow 30 cm of water. The Shambala and Taia crews were
enthralled by these spectacular creatures. The kids ran out of words
to describe the awesomeness of the moment, so they came up with a
single word that describes it perfectly, a word that is better than
awesome:
extraordinary. It was extraordinary to see the two sharks eat every
chunk of fish we threw in the water.
 |
| Shambala and Taia under different sail combinations |
As
Shambala and Taia continue their trek south, through the Jumentos and
the Ragged Islands, both crews share daily activities and end each
day with a feast of ocean protein. The adults chat in the cockpit
while the kids play in the cabin. All eight of us are having a great
time (and a lot of freshly caught fish!).
We are now anchored in Hog Cay, a mere 3 miles from Duncan Town, the only settlement in this group of islands. According to our guide, the settlement's population is a whopping 100. Soon we'll start heading back north, towards George Town, while Shambala goes north west, towards Florida.
It's
been an incredible few days; postcard material for those who love to
cruise in areas that offer nothing but wilderness. The best part has
been to share the experience with Shambala. Paul and Staci, as well
as their two wonderful children, have made the exploration of this
deserted paradise that much more enjoyable, that much more
interesting. To them I say thanks!
