BUBBLE BLOWER TO FIRST BLOOD | Articles | XtremeSpearfishing.com - The Ultimate Freediving & Spearfishing Source on the Web!

Coiba, Panama

One unique and wonderful aspect of our sport is that we can share it with friends or a family member that may have an interest in trying spearfishing. Even better, if our friend happens to be reasonably athletic, and we are willing to concentrate our time on coaching them, and the cosmos graces our mission, we can give this person an adventure they will never forget in their life. We can take them to the top—On the First Day. You can’t do that with golf, or tennis, or handball, or most other sports. It is more like being a skydiver and taking your buddy on his first day to 13,000 feet and letting him tandem freefall with you to see what the sport is about.

After we had so much fun on our Ten Bagger trip the month before, where we shot ten wahoo, we decided to return to see if the fish were still there. The dry season was close and we know that it happens very suddenly—one day they are there in numbers, and the next day you will not see a single fish, and they are gone for months. Last Chance.

Our friend Greg Hawley is in his fifty’s, an experienced scuba diver, bubble blower, and has good depth and down time but he has never shot a fish in his life. We invited him to come and share our gun, and if he decided he wanted to shoot, Michelle and I would give him some pointers and he could give it a try.

The conditions were beautiful, calm, warm, clear and more important, the fish were still there. Michelle made it look so easy as she put a shaft through the first fish. Greg watched Michelle battle the fish and finally subdue it with one hand in the gills to avoid the razor sharp teeth. Then when he saw the fish up close, and touched it, he was amazed by its size and unique beauty. Did he want to give it a try? —- If a little girl, half his age, and 98 pounds, could do it, he could not resist. The transition from Bubble Blower to First Blood was about to begin.

When a wahoo presents itself, watching you with huge eyes, when it moves into the kill zone, it is hard to tell its distance and the exact moment to shoot, as this precise instant, usually lasts only a second or two. Also, if you haven’t hunted before, the fish is so visible and relatively close that it seems that you can’t miss. We stayed behind Greg as we put the flasher into action and watched. Toss,—Splash,—-Spin—- Greg drops down and extends—-BAM—- Low, four inches, and the fish never even flinches. Greg surfaced with disbelief and frustration on his face. We reloaded, told him to aim six inches higher, and try it again. Toss, Splash, Spin and BAM. Low again. One more time. Toss, Splash, Spin and BAM. Low and right but he almost clipped the fish. Greg surfaced completely frustrated. We told him to extend more, aim for the top of the fish, and wait for a good shot. We knew that conditions were so perfect with opportunities for continued shooting, that First Blood was not too far away. We both shot another fish while he watched the technique and Greg could not wait to get his hands on the gun again. After five or six misses, just when I thought Greg was ready to cry, his guided missile finally found its target and he erupted with joy and surprise at his First Kill. The first fish he ever shot, “in his life” was a 41 lb wahoo. Start at the Top. You can see from the expression on his face, the euphoria and the fervor, that he has already caught the madness of the underwater hunter. Little does he know that this madness might lead him to spend tons of energy and money trying to repeat this addictive experience. One more diver has made the transition, as many of us also did, from Bubble Blower to Silent Hunter. First Blood had only whetted his appetite and Greg could not wait for tomorrow to try again.

We decided to try all sleeping in the open panga, to save run time and gas. We found a great new protected place for anchoring and it was beautiful with fresh water coming out of the mountains, right next to the beach. We could put the boat on the beach, take off our wetsuits, soap down and pour buckets of cool water over us for refreshing showers. Awesome! By seven PM we were sandwiched out and ready to sleep. Four people sleeping in a panga is possible, with Michelle on the icebox, Greg on a one foot wide seat, and me on the floor, but not exactly five star—- and we did not plan on the rain. Michelle’s tarp had holes in it, Greg kept rolling off his bed onto the floor, and with my tarp, I could cover either my head or my feet, but not both. It was not fun feeling the water flow into your bed at night and turn you pillow into a sponge, but the weather was warm so we still got some sleep. However, I got that lesson loud and clear—next trip, new 8 by 10 tarps for all. One more item on my shopping list is a new wetsuit as mine got a couple of big rips and even with sunscreen, I got a painful sunburn on the exposed areas. One new toy I used this trip, was my new, Impulse 3 snorkel. Like the Impulse II, it is great, effortless to use but shows up even better under and above water.

The next day continued fantastic and we had a great time taking turns and watching each other. We tried to remain immobile, and wait for a good shot, because usually the wary fish would turn at the last minute just out of range. Since we waited for close shots, the fish did not have time to avoid the spear, and we lost only one fish. Greg became more attuned to the hunt as well as to the prey and at the same time became more aware of how rare and special this gift was, that he was being given. The last fish of the day was Michelle’s new record, and she really needed a bigger gun but that was all we had. This was her first flying fish.

Great showers, more sandwiches, and a drier night and we were ready to go the next morning. We decided on two hours, maybe enough time shoot one more fish each, and we had to start the long trip back. I watched from behind as Greg took his last fish and it was classic. Greg was down, relaxed, extended and motionless as the fish came into view and approached broadside watching with one huge eye, evaluating the intruder. The perfect moment arrived, the blink of an eye, when all time stops, and Greg fired.—- BAM—- I watched the spear go right through the fish, perfect shot on the lateral line and the fish was stoned. Greg will never improve on that if he lives a hundred years. Fantastic to watch. Michelle and I both scored on one more fish and it was great we had a big ice box this time. Greg’s intro to spearfishing was unique——- the first five fish he shot, In His Life, were FIVE, MAGNIFICENT WAHOO. Not many of us got to start off our underwater hunting with such good fortune. Not to be topped, Michelle also shot five fish and I had to shoot three to put wahoo in the freezer until next year at this time. So we ended up with a “bakers dozen” Greg five, Michelle five and three for me. What a way to end the Wahoo season.

On the way home, after three hours in the panga, we had a six hour drive ahead of us. On the road, in Penonome, we stopped at a restaurant and asked them to cook up some of our wahoo for us, and we could finally relax and talk about our trip. Greg was so totally jazzed and enthusiastic I felt it important to tell him some of the ‘truths” we have all learned about spearfishing. I explained, of course, that #1 the water is always warm and clear when you go diving. #2 you always see big fish as soon as you jump in the water. #3 if you miss the first shots it doesn’t matter because the will be another big fish coming by soon. #4 the fish will always be here. And #5 there is always someone to clean your fish so you can just keep diving and shooting. It always works this way.