The Extraordinary Adventures of Shambala and Taia in the Jumentos Cays and the Ragged Islands

“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!