I’m back in Yansaladup. I do like this anchorage, but I’m not here because I like it – because it’s where Mom is leaving from. Mom left yesterday, heading back to Texas where she’ll pick up her life where she left off. Luke and I are both onboard, and back to boat projects. The single biggest project is the water maker. While here, we’re back in the same anchorage with a bunch of friends – Sheila and Audrey on Timeless, Mike and Laura on Gilana, Kathy and Maria on Joanna… The list goes on. But first, back in Kuanidup…
Kuanidup
Andy on Fisher’s Hornpipe showed up when I was belowdecks trying to piece together my bastardized Spectra Catalina water maker (which I was trying to convert to a Spectra Cape Horn Extreme). I’d made a mistake with some pieces, some didn’t make it to Luke in time, and some simply didn’t work when I got them on board. So, I was sweating and cursing and bleeding and breaking stuff (not intentionally).
By the time I got the pumps mounted and everything connected as best I could it was almost 2 PM. The water maker was connected but not producing freshwater. I was starving and needed a break. We ate, went to the main island (where they have a billiards table), and then went for a dive behind Andy’s boat.
The first dive I shot a nice trigger at 35 feet. The third dive I saw a nice Jack of somekind at 55 feet as I was on my way up. I never did see him again. I managed to plant a spear in a giant schoolmaster – but it managed to wiggle off somehow. After a few more dives we moved closer to the mothership and dove the shallower water with better visibility as the sun went down.
That night we planned a bonfire on the beach with Andy and his crew. We picked some fish up from Andy, started some Spanish rice, and then Luke and I set up our beach party. Eventually Andy and crew jumped onboard and we had dinner – then we all went to the beach and started trying to find the bottom of rum bottles. I’m happy to report we were able to find the bottoms of said rum bottles. Three times. The conversations ranged from sailing, to boat maintenance, to the concept of freedom (and how a autonomous sailing vessel can provide that). Then everyone went home.
Rocking and Rollling
We were in a great spot for North or Northeast swell, but overnight the wind picked up and our Northeast swell turned into something closer to East. With the wind still coming from the Northeast – we were taking a beam swell, making us rock and roll in our otherwise very protected anchorage. Add to that our shenanigans of the night before — and Luke ended up skipping breakfast.
I felt fine, I’ve been doing this stay-up-late-with-rum thing for a few months and I’ve adapted methinks. So Mom and I decided to try a dive. I gave Andy a call on the VHF, asked him how he was doing – he replied with “Ugggggghhhhh.” Which meant it was me and Mom on the dive this morning, sans Andy. We took off for the barrier reef surrounding our two islands, anchored in the lee of the reef, and kicked around the corner to the outside wall. The wall wasn’t very deep, but there was excellent visibility and beautiful coral. I was diving but I wasn’t too worried about shooting fish – I was having too much fun just exploring.
That changed though.
About 30 minutes into the dive I spotted what appeared to be a barracuda moving really quickly. I was diving with only one band, of two, cocked on my speargun – expecting to shoot into a hole for snapper/lobster/crab. I quickly loaded the other band and dove to get a better look – the fish was angled toward me, and as it got closer I realized it was a very, very nice Cero Mackerel. Definitely the largest I’ve seen. I made a couple of kicks, the fish came within range, I pulled the trigger and… I missed. In my defense, they’re a super-fast fish that rarely provides a decent shot. That said – I should have hit him. I was a little bummed, as it was a nice fish.
So I went back into sightseeing mode. I was so relaxed that I forgot to even reload the speargun as I was kicking around. Which is when I saw a really nice dinner-sized Dog Snapper. Naturally, when the snapper spotted me – it took off like a bullet. I reloaded and followed at a distance, trying to keep the fish within my sight but I lost it.
The Hunt
With my speargun loaded I kicked around a bit and eventually found where I thought the Dog Snapper holed up. I hung around for a couple of minutes and sure enough – I saw him poke his snout out of the hole in about 25 feet of water. It was like Christmas morning, seeing that snout.
These Dog Snapper are smart – they’ve been hunted since they were babies. The Kuna are very persistent in their fishing and spearfishing efforts. This one was no exception, so I settled in for a good hunt.
The strategy here is to put the coral head (which he was hiding in) between myself and the fish, and be underwater (and in position) when he came out to locate me. Then plant a decent shot and keep him out of his hole as I ascend. I tried this three or four times, but he always seemed to come out when I was out of breath or on the surface.
But he made a mistake. He got gutsy and left his hole when another smaller Dog Snapper swam by. I reckoned he would shoot back to his hole when he saw me descend, so I waited to let him get further from his hole – and then planted myself on top of his coral head. I was right, he hauled ass back to his coral head when he saw me coming – but I was in position.
The shot actually surprised me, it was purely instinctual, I didn’t even realize I was shooting. A long shot, but a hit. The spear struck the spine, so I just ascended and pulled him up behind me. At this point we had way more fish than we needed, so I just headed back to the dinghy.
On the mothership I cleaned the snapper, we had a snack, and we picked up anchor and headed to Yansaladup. We were motor-sailing with light winds from an unfavorable angle. The port engine was being a PITA again, so I was a little edgy when we needed to maneuver into the tight anchorage -but we made it, dropped the pick and it set first time.
A Giant in the Desert
Where we dropped the anchor was a barren desert – just sand. But I wanted to see the anchor, so I dove it and found it well-planted. From there I was just diving and playing around on my way back to the boat, when I found myself in a school of baitfish. I followed the school to a sunken log, almost invisible from the surface. I told Luke about it, then dove down – hoping to see a lobster underneath.
I had my head all the way under the log when I spotted a huge set of canines not more than a few inches in front of the mask. I was as surprised as the fish was apparently – it was a big Dog Snapper, but I didn’t have time to really judge his size.
I surfaced, we got the GoPro ready and I loaded my speargun. This would make for cool video. When everything was ready, Luke and I dove. But when I leveled off where I could see the fish (under the log) he was pointed out the other way, and with a flick of his tail was gone. I never had a chance. And he was way larger than I realized at first. Another nice fish escaped.
Mom’s Last Dive
Mom wanted to have one more dive before she left, and I was happy to oblige. I had plenty of fish, so I took Luke’s polespear and designated myself the crab/lobster/lionfish hunter. Luke took his speargun, rather than the camera. Mom took nothing.
We dove a wall, and at first everything seemed quiet, but as the sun started sinking – everything came out to hunt. Including lionfish. I went on a full-scale lionfish slaughter, all the while checking holes for crab and lobster. I hit no fewer than 15 lionfish. They’re definitely taking over the reefs here. At one point I had four tangled up on the three-prong polespear, but I lost two of those four when I shot a fifth. Luke popped a nice Ocean Trigger, but it escaped with only a scar and a story.
I managed to actually get two of the larger lionfish back to the dinghy. Mom found a conch, and we headed back to S/V NOMAD. I cleaned the lionfish for a friend of ours in the anchorage who loves them (we were full of fish), then started on the conch. My first shot at cleaning a conch wasn’t perfect, but I got it done.
We ate well, played Texas Hold’Em, and retired a little before midnight. Mom was up early, we shared a last coffee together, and she boarded a launcha bound for Panama City. The the days of Watermaker Hell began.
A Reunion
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