Judge
04-05-2004, 03:14 AM
While on a spearing trip to the Coral Sea with my son Antony we were both determined to get a spanish mackerel, (scomberomorus commerson)I posted Antony's story on an earlier thread. Here is my story:
MY TURN
I woke up that morning with a secret. It was my birthday. If you are at sea with 20 Australian spearfishing mates and they all know it is your birthday, you would be looking over your shoulders every so often, because you’d know they were going to throw you over the side sometime that day.
The day looked great. The wind had abated and we were moored close to yet another reef in the Swains, Finger Reef. There were 3 days to go on our Coral Sea trip and I had not shot a spanish mackerel. I was looking for the spots, burleying, using my flashers but this species was eluding me. I went out with my usual boat team Ant and Mike in the morning. They decided to do a bit of line fishing in the afternoon…they were struggling to fit it in between diving and they had brought so much tackle…Can’t understand it myself.
I got a berth on a dory with Andy Davis, Simon and Rick Trippe. I felt in good company as Andy and Simon had been giving us the basics of taking these “barries.” These three are very enthusiastic divers and took some great fish on the trip. We chugged out to the front of the reef. I watched Andy and Simon harassing a large cod in a series of caves. The cod just wasn’t cooperating and presenting them with a shot.
For a difference I grabbed my 1m rail gun and went up into the shallows. Here a coral wall dropped down to about 12m then sloped off into the depths. It didn’t take me long to get bored so I went back into the deeper water. The vis was around 18-20m and profoundly blue. The sun shone down through the water giving it a surreal too-much colour-to-be-real look.
I must have been in about 25m of water as I had to dive a few metres before I saw the bottom. I was relaxing on the surface alone, when I noticed a school of fish approaching. I couldn’t miss them as the sun reflected off them like large mirrors. It looked like they were going to pass directly below me. I took a deep breath and slowly made my dive. I dived slightly to the side of them, keeping my eyes diverted. I spiraled down stretching my gun out in front of me, pointing to where they would appear if they did not change direction.
There were about 6 barries, with 2 bigger. I was stretching my gun out when it dawned on me, I only had my 1metre competition gun. An evil touch of despair clawed at me as I slowly descended. I will just have to get close… DAMN CLOSE!
They were still on track when they came into my line of sight. I zeroed in on the largest in the school and was just about to pull the trigger when I heard the familiar chant in my head: If you think you are close, get closer. So I held back the shot, and dropped a further metre. They we just past me now and I lined up and fired.
Of my shots, my worst is shooting down on a fish. I confronted that fact when I saw the spear had gone into the fish half way between the dorsal fin and the tail and it had penetrated to the side of the spine and emerged on the same side of it. So there was only a small amount of flesh holding the fish. I made a fast decision; I had to let it run without putting much pressure on the spear. And run it did. It took off, almost faster than you could see. I let out my rig rope and swam hard to follow, angling to the surface for a breath.
After that initial ballistic run I slowly managed to catch up. I kept a bit of pressure on the spear to keep it pulling the fish off keel as it swum and tired it out in this way. I was glancing around expecting the whalers arrive any second but there was no sign. I swam closer to the fish below. It was struggling now and if I were going to take it, now was the time. I descended down the line, just keeping it tight. Fortune was on my side. When I reached the fish, it was so tired I just wrapped myself around it, arms and legs. It struggled briefly until I slipped in the kill knife. Yay! I was jubilant, but very alone.
I looked up and saw I was over 100m down current. I strung the fish on my rig rope and reloaded. Then holding the fish close I struck out for the dory. My legs were starting to burn with the pace I set. I remember seeing very little but the mackerel’s head right in front of my mask with blood pouring out of its head knife wound into the water. It was then I got that funny feeling of being watched. I dropped my head to look behind and sure enough there was a sizable black tip, no further away than 3m from my fins.
He was a fine looking shark about 2.5m (8 ft), zipping back and forth behind my beating fins. I turned on him and swum directly at him, determined to intimidate him. He zipped off but returned to swim in that heady trail of blood I was leaving. Twice more before I got to the boat I confronted him. I laughed later; there was no way he was going to take my first spaniad, no way in the world. I would have shot him rather than give that fish up.
We did celebrate my birthday, I celebrated my first spanish mackerel and it was a great night.
Judge
MY TURN
I woke up that morning with a secret. It was my birthday. If you are at sea with 20 Australian spearfishing mates and they all know it is your birthday, you would be looking over your shoulders every so often, because you’d know they were going to throw you over the side sometime that day.
The day looked great. The wind had abated and we were moored close to yet another reef in the Swains, Finger Reef. There were 3 days to go on our Coral Sea trip and I had not shot a spanish mackerel. I was looking for the spots, burleying, using my flashers but this species was eluding me. I went out with my usual boat team Ant and Mike in the morning. They decided to do a bit of line fishing in the afternoon…they were struggling to fit it in between diving and they had brought so much tackle…Can’t understand it myself.
I got a berth on a dory with Andy Davis, Simon and Rick Trippe. I felt in good company as Andy and Simon had been giving us the basics of taking these “barries.” These three are very enthusiastic divers and took some great fish on the trip. We chugged out to the front of the reef. I watched Andy and Simon harassing a large cod in a series of caves. The cod just wasn’t cooperating and presenting them with a shot.
For a difference I grabbed my 1m rail gun and went up into the shallows. Here a coral wall dropped down to about 12m then sloped off into the depths. It didn’t take me long to get bored so I went back into the deeper water. The vis was around 18-20m and profoundly blue. The sun shone down through the water giving it a surreal too-much colour-to-be-real look.
I must have been in about 25m of water as I had to dive a few metres before I saw the bottom. I was relaxing on the surface alone, when I noticed a school of fish approaching. I couldn’t miss them as the sun reflected off them like large mirrors. It looked like they were going to pass directly below me. I took a deep breath and slowly made my dive. I dived slightly to the side of them, keeping my eyes diverted. I spiraled down stretching my gun out in front of me, pointing to where they would appear if they did not change direction.
There were about 6 barries, with 2 bigger. I was stretching my gun out when it dawned on me, I only had my 1metre competition gun. An evil touch of despair clawed at me as I slowly descended. I will just have to get close… DAMN CLOSE!
They were still on track when they came into my line of sight. I zeroed in on the largest in the school and was just about to pull the trigger when I heard the familiar chant in my head: If you think you are close, get closer. So I held back the shot, and dropped a further metre. They we just past me now and I lined up and fired.
Of my shots, my worst is shooting down on a fish. I confronted that fact when I saw the spear had gone into the fish half way between the dorsal fin and the tail and it had penetrated to the side of the spine and emerged on the same side of it. So there was only a small amount of flesh holding the fish. I made a fast decision; I had to let it run without putting much pressure on the spear. And run it did. It took off, almost faster than you could see. I let out my rig rope and swam hard to follow, angling to the surface for a breath.
After that initial ballistic run I slowly managed to catch up. I kept a bit of pressure on the spear to keep it pulling the fish off keel as it swum and tired it out in this way. I was glancing around expecting the whalers arrive any second but there was no sign. I swam closer to the fish below. It was struggling now and if I were going to take it, now was the time. I descended down the line, just keeping it tight. Fortune was on my side. When I reached the fish, it was so tired I just wrapped myself around it, arms and legs. It struggled briefly until I slipped in the kill knife. Yay! I was jubilant, but very alone.
I looked up and saw I was over 100m down current. I strung the fish on my rig rope and reloaded. Then holding the fish close I struck out for the dory. My legs were starting to burn with the pace I set. I remember seeing very little but the mackerel’s head right in front of my mask with blood pouring out of its head knife wound into the water. It was then I got that funny feeling of being watched. I dropped my head to look behind and sure enough there was a sizable black tip, no further away than 3m from my fins.
He was a fine looking shark about 2.5m (8 ft), zipping back and forth behind my beating fins. I turned on him and swum directly at him, determined to intimidate him. He zipped off but returned to swim in that heady trail of blood I was leaving. Twice more before I got to the boat I confronted him. I laughed later; there was no way he was going to take my first spaniad, no way in the world. I would have shot him rather than give that fish up.
We did celebrate my birthday, I celebrated my first spanish mackerel and it was a great night.
Judge