Panama

    The RUSH of finding, shooting and landing our first big fish is so thrilling and addictive that we are willing to spend an immense amount of energy and resources trying to recreate those magical moments when everything comes together in Mother Ocean. However, we are reminded far too often, that it is not just our efforts, preparation and desire that count, but far more important is the whim of the cosmos. It is the nod of Neptune that decides which fish are paraded for our enjoyment. We were recently reminded, on a long 400 mile panga trip, that encountering big fish is a very rare and special gift, something sacred, not something predictable or guaranteed or even often experienced. For example this trip to the Darien we were hoping to see dorado, wahoo and sails, but it was not part of the cosmic plan, and we never saw one of these fish in six days. Furthermore I had to pay a toll this time to enter the water world,  of three shafts and slip tips, and one pair of fins.  Expensive cover.  I think the few fish that we freedivers take could be the most expensive fish in the world per pound, but I guess that is why our fish taste soo good.

    After two days diving an empty and vacant sea that is usually alive, I was almost stunned to finally see a nice fish. A lone, 50-60 pound pargo was cruising near the island, in just 20 feet of water above a bottom that fell off into the deep.  I dropped down from above and he never saw me until the last minute when he turned broadside.—-  BAM—.  The spear went through just behind the gill plate and stoned the fish.  When I grabbed the line and started up I saw the shooting cable had parted and I was no longer connected to spear or fish.  I needed air, but without surfacing, I turned and went back to the bottom, grabbed the spear impaling the fish and started up. The fish was big, heavy and hard to move as I was trying to pull it up broadside to the surface. I was hitting panic mode, kicking with full power and the fish was barely moving.  I was too close to the edge and out of time to take even two seconds to grab the gills and point the fish up, for less resistance. Just eight more feet to the surface, but the fish was so heavy that I realized I was not going to make it. I let go of the spear and shot up for air. I was shaking from the exertion and I watched helplessly as the thrashing of the fish carried him down the sloping bottom toward deep water. By the time I breathed up enough to make another dive the big fish and my new shaft and tip had slid into the depths. I could not figure what had happened to break the shooting cable as the fish did not make a run. I thought maybe the cable was rusty.

      However, the same thing happened again later in the day when Michelle shot a blue jack and the cable parted and the fish ran away with another shaft and slip tip. This time I thought maybe I was crimping the sleeves too close to the end and cutting the cable. Now we only had two shafts left and I was hesitant to shoot.

      Next day we made a run, straight out on smooth seas, for 35 miles where we had great luck before.  But there were no boats, no logs, no birds, no bait, no drift lines and no fish. I had never seen the ocean so devoid of life. But it was flat calm, warm, and the water was purple blue, and 3000 feet deep. So we decided to jump in with no weights and just relax and swim around. I put conditioner on my bare feet to make it easy to put on my red DiveR fins, that I like so much, slid on the fins and jumped off the side of the panga.  POP !  Both of my fins popped off and I thought “no problem”. These fins sink pretty fast, so I grabbed the nearest fin, slipped it back on and tipped up to go for the other. POP—it came off my slick foot again. I could see the other down at about six feet, so I hurriedly put one on again, tipped up and tried to go down but I had no weights on. I finally got under, and flailed to go deeper, but the falling fin stayed just out of my reach. As I floated back up to the surface I watched helplessly as my single fin started its 3000 foot fall into the abyss.  Another lesson in Neptunes endless freediving course. Thank heaven I had brought my short, pool fins so I could still dive.

    We decided to go inshore for a brief dive, then call it quits and get ready for the next days’ 150 mile trip back home.  I swam toward the rocks because I wanted to be in shallow water, so I could recover my spear if my shooting line broke again.  I was just yards offshore, still 80 feet deep,  when two nice pez gallo appeared and I had to decide whether to shoot or not. Guess what I decided?  —-BAM—-  Almost a stone shot and my crimps and my line held. It was a beautiful 60 pound fish, not as big as Michelle’s 82 pound brute, but still a welcome fish.

    I felt more comfortable that the spear problem was solved and that the crimps on the two lost shafts had been faulty—- that is—- until the next day when Michelle put a spear through a big Bohala, over 50 pounds. The fish swam away with my third spear and tip as the shooting cable had parted. We were mystified and only had one shaft left.

    The last spear held for two more bohala and it was time to finish the run for home. We traveled almost 400 miles in the six days living in the panga, and had great fun, but the whim of the cosmos was not on our side, maybe because the trip was made during the change of seasons from dry to rainy. It took us about three weeks to reorganize, recover from our disappointment, and get excited about going another direction. We replaced all the cables on the shafts, changed to aluminum sleeves and were careful not ot crimp to the end of the sleeves. This should do the trick, but the unpredictability of the lines parting had us baffled.

    We decided to return to the Coiba area, where the currents and conditions are completely different from the Bay of Panama, and we heard that there were wahoo. We were excited to try out the new secret weapon that Dan Salveira had told us about on a visit just before we left for Panama.
We don’t trailer our panga to this area because the road is long, narrow, with steep shoulders,  potholes, and loco truck drivers missing you by four inches going the other way. Insane.  The good thing about renting a panga is that there is a driver and no clean up, but the negative is that most have gas- eating two strokes, often no electronics, and the prices are going up.  The trip to the islands is challenging, beautiful, exciting and is never the same twice. We always start this trip out, at the port thirty miles up river, giving thanks for our adventure and our fried fish dinner, at this little open air place overlooking the river. The anticipation of another trip never gets old.

    The first place we pass, that used to be great a couple of years ago, is now fished out, so we continued out toward the wahoo grounds on awesome flat seas. The first log we found was huge, so huge that Michelle could walk the length, but because it looked new, without much growth, we did not expect much. We found only small dorado under the log but with one bull that Michelle decide to shoot.—-BAM—- The spear went through the fish and—- he just swam away with another of our shafts and tip as the cable had parted again. Unbelievable! The fourth lost shaft however was our magic arrow, as it brought the answer to our dilemma. Unlike before, I noticed a piece of the cable was wedged under the cheater tab that I had screwed into the side of the gun for Michelle to use loading the bands.  So what sometimes happened, when fired, as the spear left the gun track, it threw a small loop of cable over the cheater tab on the side of the gun, and the momentum of the 9/16 shaft in flight, snapped the cable at it weakest link. Another very expensive lesson, but with two screws, the cheater tab is history and we are ready for wahoo.

    The Coiba area is a World Heritage site, beautiful, and the sealife is “protected’ by three expensive patrol boats and about a dozen guys. But there are 40 commercial “artisanal” boats, each with six or eight guys aboard, that are permitted to fish there day and night, with no catch limits, and sportfishing also is allowed,—- but No spearfishing is allowed.  Conservation Panama style. All the show and tell to sound politically correct, while special interests decimate the ocean. If it is a protected area it has to be “No Take for Nobody”, or I don’t play. But fortunately most of the good wahoo areas are outside of the park so we were excited as we readied ourselves to arrive at the first place to test the secret weapon that Dan told us about.

      We could not believe that wahoo like music CDs. We heard, a couple of dance music CDs taped together, and then tied with a short line to one more CD, maybe Latin music here in Panama, were irresistible to the wahoo. We were told that if we see fish, toss the CDs out in front.  The CDs spin and slowly drop, the music starts and here come the wahoo. As the boat slowed we were ready to disco boogie with the music loving wahoo.

      We slid over the side and immediately we scanned——the fish are here—but staying outside.  Toss—- Splash——- The CDs spin and the music starts. And here come two wahoo to check it out. Michelle dives and stealthily swims to intersect the fish.  BAM.  She misses and I dive to pick up the CD. They like this music.  A few minutes later she misses again. Buck Fever. I suggest she more fully extend the gun before firing. The next toss, and the young ones, that like to boogie most, come immediately. This time she has it dialed in—— BAM—- she nails the first wahoo of this trip. Thank you Dan for this cheap, simple, and fun secret weapon. My turn, so we take the boat back up current. Hunting wahoo is one of my favorite things – they are found in clear, warm water, we don’t have to dive deep, they don’t run in the rocks, they are a great fight, and they taste fantastic.  Boogie time.  Toss—- Splash—- Spin— the music starts and here comes a fish.—-BAM——and I get on the board with a nice fish.  It is dangerous be in front of a hard float when these fish take off, the speed of the float over the water is sudden and super fast.  Over the next couple of days we had a great time chasing wahoo as they changed locations with the tides. Michelle got on some nice fish and I watched her get pulled down into the blue. But one time, we must have had on an “oldies but goodies” CD, because I saw a monster come up from the depths. I was on the surface and Michelle was down when I saw a huge fish heading for the CDs and because of his size and girth I thought it was a shark. When it got closer I could see it was a 70 or 80 lb wahoo, swimming like only big fish do.  It probably scared Michelle or she misjudged the distance, because she shot, but missed the fish. We spent hours hoping for another chance at this master predator but without success.  The CDs continued to play and it was amazing how many wahoo were willing to die for the music. Michelle was happy with six and I had to take a couple that came zooming in to check out the Gringo music.

      The last day we got up at 4:30 AM to make a sneak attack on one of our favorite places.  The wahoo were small and we did not shoot but the CDs brought an unexpected visitor from the depths.  I speared a nice pargo and the line did not part and we did not lose the spear.  Finally!  Hurray!

    We dove a few more hours and the gas tank was almost empty and the cooler full, so we headed back up river and arrived in time for another fried fish dinner.  The trip was great but already we are thinking “next time”.  In the back of our minds we know the “king” wahoo might be waiting for some more oldies but goodies CDs,  and we found a new place full of fish, and the driver has a new secret place to show us, so we will be back soon for more Wahoo Boogie.

    With the early wake up, hours of hard diving, and unloading tons of wet gear we knew we did not have the energy to make the long drive to Panama.  About half way home there is a new “push button” that just opened and right now it is $20 for all night instead in $10 every two hours. A push button is a divers dream, because you just pull in the private garage that goes with your room, push the button and the door goes down, your stuff is safe and there is no need to unload and reload heavy coolers and dive gear. Then you push the other button,  the intercom tells you to put $20 in the slot, and buzzzz—the door opens into a beautiful clean room with, clean bath, hot showers, big bed, mirrors, A/C and a big tv that has two channels, either news or porno. These places are popular in Panama for couples to meet secretly because they see no one and no one sees them, or their car. But for divers, after four days of roughing it, the push button is like a God send. I was ready for a night of rest and recovery but I made the mistake of letting Michelle watch the wrong channel, which was all new to her. If your dive buddy happens to be your wife or girlfriend, better to turn off the TV or you may not get much time for rest and recovery. At 7:30 AM we were told to vacate and as we left the luxury of TU Y YO, (You and I) we knew that we would be back here again on our next trip.

    As we drove toward the city we could feel ourselves leaving one world and entering another. We were leaving the simple, natural world, where our only focus was on eating, sleeping and hunting, like a thousand years ago, and returning to the high tech- low touch world where the real is replaced with the virtual. I feel our freediving forays into nature bless us and provide the gratitude and strength to deal with the day to day. Then when we are burned out on the traffic, the trivial, and the tech, we can always return to Mother Ocean and the silent CDs playing the Wahoo Boogie.

July 20, 2009       Dix and Michelle Roper         .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)