Panama

    The silver, pointed, razor toothed missile was coming straight at me faster than a speedboat. It was crazed, panicked, with Michelle’s spear tip toggled through its midsection, and trailing the spear next to its sleek, streamlined body. Behind that, it was trailing Greg’s new heavy wooden speargun that had been violently jerked out of Michelle’s hands. The crescent tail was beating the water so forcefully and so rapidly that it was propelling the wahoo at high speed, leaving a thick jet stream trail of bubbles and foam behind. Five seconds before, Greg and I had watched from the surface as Michelle, using Greg’s gun, had made a perfect shot on a wahoo of at least 50 pounds. The fish blasted vertical to the surface and went into a frenzied circular path, being turned by the trailing gun and float line. Below, Michelle had to suddenly pivot to avoid being looped by the encircling line. Greg, in front of me, on the surface, saw the wild fish coming at him first, and dodged as the fish flashed past his head. I first realized this was a new danger when the fish was at least seventy five feet away, making a bee line for my chest, at warp speed. Would the injured and panicked 50 pound plus fish, be so blinded with stress that he would not see me, and hit me going 50 miles per hour?  Very Possible!  If impact with the speeding 50 pound rocket did not kill me, the heavy padauk wooden gun trailing, certainly could put me away. At this speed, the fish covered the seventy five feet in just ONE second, not much response time for a danger I had never realized even existed.  Like a laser guided bomb, he came straight at me and never wavered. I reached back with both hands, took one stroke to duck out of his way, and he roared by, within two inches, the cavitation and bubble wave covering my face and head. He had never veered off. Had he drilled me, it would have been serious, and it would have been hard to climb back in the panga with a 50 pound wahoo sticking out of my chest.  This was one more New lesson on the unexpected dangers of shooting big, fast, fish. As it was, the weight of pulling the padauk gun ripped out the fish and he came off, probably food for the big bull shark that was darting around us, excited by the thrashing wahoo.

      Sometimes the most memorable fish are the ones that get away. This report includes highlights of two recent wahoo hunts, where we only scored wahoo on the first hour of the first day and the last hour of the last day as occurred in the close call above. Greg was the only one to land a wahoo on the first trip after loosing two fish. It was early in the season and the fish were big, but few in number and very wary.

    First hour of the first day, Greg got in the water with his brand new gun that he had never shot, and he really wanted to test it out. It was rigged with the shooting line attached to the gun, and the gun attached to a float line. I suggested he go down and shoot a blue runner for target practice. As he swung the gun to line up a runner, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a big wahoo behind him. It was the wrong time of year, wrong location, wrong depth, but a great surprise. He swung on to his new target with his virgin gun.  BAM!  He nailed the fish and the new gun was immediately yanked out of his hands and he watched it disappear with the fish, into the blue. He looked over and grabbed the float line before the buoy went past. Greg was pulled down and around by the big fish until both of them were wasted and the fish lay on its side in midwater. The fish looked 99% dead and Greg thought now he could just swim down and grab his tail and bring him to the surface. He dropped down and while still six feet from the fish, Greg saw the slip tip fall out of the enlarged hole. Still thinking the fish was dead on its side, he reached out the final six inches to grab his tail, the fish saw him, flicked his tail, righted, and swam off into the deep.  Gone!  The second wahoo Greg was to shoot was another frustration as the fish somehow during the fight, managed to get the Kevlar line of the slip tip in his mouth, and cleanly shear the 1000 lb test line off with his razor sharp teeth. Gone. We were stoked to be seeing a few wahoo, but when the depth finder on the panga finally quit completely, we knew our wahoo hunting might be over.  We could no longer find our high spots in the deep water, and so would have to adjust our plans. Not great, but we were happy to be diving at all, after our early morning close call.

    For the first trip we had arrived a day early and loaded everything into the roach coach (mother boat) and sent it ahead with the falling afternoon tide. We would take the small panga at 5:30 AM the next morning and meet them forty miles away at the dive site. We arrived the next morning at 5:30 ready to go, and the electronics on the 150 HP outboard of the small panga failed, so we had NO boat. We had no contact, and all our equipment and food and gas was gone on the Roach Coach. Surprise —- Panama Diving. But we woke up another panga owner, and he agreed to get up, put his boat in the water and take us. Two hours later we were back in the game and speeding downriver. It wasn’t perfect but at least our trip was on again.

    Four days later, coming back home and speeding back up river, the driver failed to see a big floating log, maybe 10 inches in diameter by 8 feet long. We were lying on the floor when there was an enormous bang and impact that would have sunk a lighter boat. Unbelievably, the impact with the bow briefly pushed the log down in the water and we passed over it without hitting and destroying the prop or the motor leg. Another unexpected event that could have turned into a total disaster, but the cosmic mojo smiled on us again.

    Starting out with a dead depth finder, and not many wahoo around, we decided do more inshore diving.  It turned out to be great fun, a nice change and we still got to shoot some fish.

    Michelle dove down into some foamy water near a break, disappeared in the bubbles and came up with a beautiful snook. Usually they are in schools but we did not manage to find any more. We saw one or two big pargo but they were very wary and had perfect cover to run to. 

    Then Greg saw a medium size pargo and made a good shot practicing with his new gun. As we wanted to dive with only one gun between us, Greg suggested we share his gun and see how it worked.
Then we saw a nice Golden Trevally and it was Michelle’s turn with the gun. These are prized fish here in Panama because the white meat is delicious and they are excellent fighters. Michelle went down, stayed motionless, and the fish gave her a good broadside.  BAM! A nice 12 pound Golden trevally was in the cooler.

    Michelle wanted to make some fish head soup and she spotted a small pargo that was willing to sacrifice his life. This was a perfect size to fit in the pot and the taste was great.

      A short time later, Chocolatita found another Golden Trevally, larger than we usually see in Panama. It was also found cruising the bottom of sand mixed with rock. She put a great head shot on the fish and was able to land the fish without much problem. The fish weighed 14 lbs and is the largest she has shot to date. In a short time she had put two beautiful Golden Trevally in the cooler.  We decided to make a run a few miles to a good beach where we could weigh the fish for the women’s record. On the way we stopped at another great place I had not been to for years. The Golden Trevally were there too, at the drop off. Greg was using his gun without the buoy attached and shot a Golden Trevally at the end of his breath hold. He almost did not make it to the surface as these fish have enormous power for their size. When you are kicking hard to get to the surface, and the fighting fish stops your upward movement, your remaining air and power is consumed in seconds. Thank heaven, Greg did not see the fish that passed by us a few minutes later. It was a big pez gallo, or rooster fish, and there is no way Greg could have resisted taking the shot. It would have been bye-bye new gun, or it would have been bye-bye Greg, if he had not been willing to let go and lose the gun. Without a stone shot, he would have never landed the fish without the float line. Serendipity was still on our side, and it was time to go weigh the trevally on the beach and get back to the roach coach before dark. We were all ready for bucket showers, fried fish, and ten hours of recovery sleep. The roach coach worked great for us because then, we did not have to carry much in the small panga, we had less travel time, and during the rain, at night, we just rolled down the plastic on the sides and could sleep great on the floor.

    During our second trip our camera went on the blink and all pictures were dated 7/1/1, but at least it still worked. Again there were few wahoo until the last hour of the last day but we tried some new places and found some other fish. We found a small drift line and saw small dorado from the surface but there were tons of sea snakes and jelly fish on the surface. While Greg was in the water, looking down loading the gun, I touched him on the arm and pointed up. He looked up and saw the head of a seasnake two inches from his mask. There were six or eight within a few feet of us. A minute later I suddenly felt two very painful, burning stabs to my cheek, about an inch apart. I thought at first that maybe a snake had put a bite on me, but I waited for my body to react and nothing happened. I got back in the boat but the jelly fish sting lasted for a couple of hours.

    We found a great place for blue trevally, or blue jack which usually like surf, rocks and current. Michelle shot a beautiful blue, to go with her yellow trevally. It is easy to loose equipment with blue trevally because they are powerful and run for the rocks. I dropped down to twenty five feet and remained perfectly still and let the current carry me into the place where all the bait was facing into the flow. A big blue jack appeared to my front, just riding the current waiting for food. He must have never seen a diver before because he stayed in place and the current carried me right into range.  BAM! My personal best blue jack at 21 pounds. Shortly after, another pargo strayed in front of my Chocolatita when she had the gun, and that pargo was perfect fried up as dinner for all of us on the Roach Coach.

      A good thing about using wahoo flashers is that it sometimes attracts other fish. I was watching Michelle follow the flasher down and at about 20 feet I saw her veer off and head deeper and then extend the gun.  I could not see the fish when she fired, but from the way the buoy took off, I knew she had connected with a big fish.  It is always great fun to see the bungee stretch and then the buoy disappearing into the depths. Michelle had a great battle with the pez gallo, was pulled down several time and had to go back up for air. It was a great fish at 40 pounds but half the size of her personal best.

    On the morning of the last day we had to leave by 9 AM for the long run back and we debated if we should make one more attempt for wahoo or head for the barn. Last chance, as we had not landed one wahoo yet. We were in the water by 7:30 AM and the first place nothing, and not looking good. Let’s try just one more place! We moved three hundred yards—- and Presto—we were in wahoo heaven and the next hour was magical. Conditions were perfect and we saw fish almost every drop. I made an awkward downward shot but connected and put a nice fish in the boat. Reload and Greg’s turn. There were lots of fish and Greg immediately made a good shot on a nice wahoo. Greg and I were happy, and we had a few minutes left and it was Michelle’s turn. It was beautiful to watch the hunt. The fish came in, turned away, Michelle continued to sink, gun extended, and the fish came back close and gave her a perfect broadside. BAM!  This fish was the 50 pounder that tried to run us down, going 50 MPH. She lost her fish but at least we had all shot wahoo and it was time to go.

    Greg, my Chocolatita and I, had made the effort and put in the time and planning to go to Marineland, to visit the ocean world. The show is Never like last time, or what we expected. However, Mother Ocean always, awaits all of us, with freedom, surprises, beauty, danger, a good workout and you never know—-you too, might get the chance to see if you can dodge a panicked 50 pound wahoo coming at you at 50 MPH.  DUCK!

Dix and Michelle Roper   .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)    June 30,2011