Lying on the surface I could not even see my fins, much less the end of my gun. Ana and I were a mile offshore but the sediment was so thick and brown I could see only the particles in the water in front of my mask.  No good for diving?  Watch.. Magic happens in Neptune’s Kingdom. I slowly tipped up and at the same moment my fin tips went beneath the murky surface my face and head emerged into the bubble of a crystal clear, fantasy Kingdom. “That’s what I’m talking about.” YES!!  The clear band was so perfect I had at least 50-ft of vis and it was full of small fish and beautiful sierra flowing in and out of the layers. We were diving in a triple layer cake. The first layer was rainwater loaded with reddish mud and extended down about six feet. The center layer was about twenty-five feet deep, with the clarity of the open ocean, blue and full of life. The bottom layer changed back to the dark, gloomy water of a bottom stirred up by the prevailing swell. It was like an invisible, but permeable, barrier kept the waters apart with a sharp defined line.  I had experienced nothing compared to this before where the murk and the clear acted like oil and water-they did not mix. It was so unusual and surreal because I could leave the murk on one breath, enter the bubble of life and crystal water, but I always had to return to the murk to breathe. It was also a new visual experience to hunt in this middle, defined band and though I saw no big fish I did shoot a beautiful spotted sierra for dinner. Within an hour the conditions changed, the waters mixed and the magic evaporated. So maybe this was what diving the Rainy Season of Panama was going to be about.

I had heard that June and July, the middle of the rainy season in Panama, was the time for Pez Gallo, (Gayo) or Rooster Fish. Because I was so totally impressed by the single one that I had shot and since I had never dived the wet season, we decided to check it out.

The first five-day dive trip introduced us to both the pluses and minuses of the wet season. After a great night of sleep listening to the torrential rain we needed to make a one and a half-hour drive on a narrow muddy road to get to the beach to meet the panga. Several times I thought the mud would win and we would be stuck in nowhere land. It was slip and slide with two-wheel drive through the jungle and over the funky wooden bridges crossing the swollen rivers. Next time I will have 4-wheel drive. The greenery was magnificent, the wild teak trees were in full blossom, and we saw no other vehicles on the entire drive. We burst out of the jungle right at the river mouth, on the beach of a small bay, and there waited our panga. We unloaded directly into the panga, parked the car above the 12-ft high tide line, trusting it would still be there when we got back, hopped in the boat and headed out for five days of adventure at the islands.

The first day was warm up day and we checked out our favorite close places for pargo and bohala. Almost nobody home-it must be the slightly higher water temp of the rainy season.  However, Ana did manage to blast a nice bohala, either a straggler or early arrival that was out of sync with the other fish. We enjoyed watching the rain storms approach across the open water, the lightning, diving in the pounding rain without being cold, and especially the cloudy days giving us respite from the sun. Some obvious problems with the rainy season were the dirtier water and the wind fronts before and after the storms. Finding no pargo or bohala, we decided to try for wahoo since they would be found in different locations and conditions, but we needed to find clear water.

We found it the next morning early and the conditions were perfect---glassy, the right depth, and blue, blue water. We knew that conditions would change rapidly when currents brought in the sediment-laden rainwater so we wasted no time. We pulled out our secret weapons-helicopter knives and spinner spoons, which we had never tried except in the pool, but read about from a Hawaiian diver-- Disposable flashers. We had raided a thrift shop and in our pool tests we had discovered that spoons and knives seemed to fall best. We tweaked the spoons and knives in different shapes with the idea of slowest fall and maximum action. Don’t bother raiding any nice restaurants or the dive boat galley or your friend’s kitchens because the cheapest tools are the lightest and seem to work best. We used two bends in the spoons for oscillation and bent the knife blades ninety degrees with another small bend in the end of the blade for helicopter action. Every utensil falls differently but a good helicopter knife spins, flashes and falls slow enough you can power down and retrieve it for reuse. Time for our First Test.  We saw no wahoo anywhere but the conditions are right. I tossed two utensils about fifteen feet in front of me and dived down to watch the fall. One moment there is nothing and the next moment two wahoo power in from nowhere and stop with the spinning knife a foot in front of their nose. One more wahoo comes blasting in. They check it and leave. We are so fascinated that no shot is fired and I dive and pick off the tools in the fall. What fun to watch. Most of the fish are small but Ana finally gets a shot at a nice size fish and lets fly. Success, and we have dinner for the camp tonight.

The current takes us off the spot but as long as the panga takes us back to the right depth, we continue to see fish. The clear water conditions close out before we see any really big wahoo, which we are looking for, but we know now that wahoo are often close around even if we don’t see them. We will perfect our heli-knives and keep those handy for future use and try to find a good way to carry these odd shaped things when diving. (Any ideas on disposable flashers and how to easily carry them will be appreciated.)

The next day we decided to seek out some rooster territory-usually surf, rocks and sand. First we went to another river mouth where the brown muddy water was flowing into the ocean. We went in close to the beach in fifteen feet and I was surprised to again find the bottom eight feet, beautiful, clear water. Ana would not jump in, as she was worried about big biters. Since there were no rocks, but maybe crocs, I did not linger long before deciding there must be a better place.

The next place we went was to a great rock coming out of deep water where we have shot a lot of big fish. This time with the rain we had only about thirty feet of vis and we did not see one single pargo or bohala. What I did see for the first time was a school of pez gallo or roosters go ripping by in mid water. They were out of range and did not stop or even seem curious. An hour later, ready to give up, as I tuck to make one last dive, Ana sees the same school of roosters on the surface behind me. They follow me down in a wide arc and when I turn up I finally see them. They are coming from my right passing directly in front of me about twenty feet out. I freeze and notice that the school has eight or ten fish of different sizes but one big, mongo leader. Probably trying to impress the lady gallos, the mongo breaks off and boldly heads toward the purple predator with the death star on his chest. I can’t believe how lucky I am because in my limited experience roosters are usually very cautious and don’t approach. His bravado cost him his life. The purple predator strikes. BAM!

The clear water, the excitement, and the size of the fish caused me to misjudge the distance and I almost missed. The mid-body shot definitely turned on his “Rooster Booster”. I grabbed the passing float line and looked up at Ana on the surface to make sure she would take my gun. As I tightened up my grip on the float line and started to feel the power cut in, I streamlined myself into the water flowing over my body. We are off--- What a RUSH!  I was accelerated to the maximum point of still being able to hang on. Ana, swimming to catch up, watched as “Comet Man” disappeared into the blue. Three times the mongo gallo stopped and it gave me just enough time to catch a breath before I would be pulled under for another rocket ride into the depths. Incredible power! After four runs on redline the fish was finished. The mongo, a magnificent, stunning fish weighed in at sixty-six pounds. My second gallo but I sure hope not my last. What FUN!

Another diving possibility that occurs during the rainy season is hunting the drift lines or current breaks. Sometime close and other times miles offshore, the lines are where the top four to six foot thick murky, fresh water abruptly ends at a line of flotsam with clear blue water ten feet on the other side. On this irregular line running for miles we have found iceboxes, tree trunks, trash, and usually we find non-stinging jellies, turtles and dorado. This time I was to be gifted with an unexpected surprise because I had seen no other game fish but dorado traveling up and down the drift line. I jumped in on the clear water side of the line and swam to where just two birds were sitting in the water on the current line. I saw no bait but the birds knew better. I saw nothing on the first couple of dives and was almost ready to get back in the boat, when I decided I had enough energy for one more dive. At fifteen feet I watched this beautiful form come out of the fog, approach me and give me a perfect broadside. It was a magnificent sail. As I had just heard about a commercial net boat that had killed over three hundred sails on a single set here in Panama, the question, “To Shoot or Not”, had already been decided.  BAM!!

As the fish smoothly pulled me through the water behind my fifty-foot float line and Rob Allen float he was going in and out of the murk layer. When the line went slack a couple of times in the murk I got nervous. My South African buddy just a few months ago had his speared sail turn on him and put his bill through his wet suit and part of his leg. He said that the fish was aiming at his stomach. In the murk I would not see him coming. Each time the line went taut again I felt better and especially when he finally pulled me into clear water. When I could see the fish was tiring I went down, came in behind the fish, slid my hand into his gills, turned his head up and had him swim me to the surface. For a long while I just hung there in the water admiring this beautiful, graceful creature and being in gratitude for this unique experience. Another totally unexpected gift! And in Panama smoked sailfish is considered the best.

In reviewing all the many new experiences of this trip I realized that my ideas and opinions, based on my experience to date, were wrong or too limited.  I thought rainy season was not good for diving-wrong. I thought really murky water on the surface could not have clear water below--- wrong.  That bohala and pargo were always there---wrong.  That if wahoo are around you will see them---wrong. That roosters never approach you---wrong That you never find sails in dirty water---wrong. That sails are not good to eat----wrong That spoons and table knives are for eating.----wrong.  How great it is to be wrong on all counts and be surprised by something even better.  For us ocean brethren there are such infinite possibilities and so much more good waiting to happen to us than we can ever imagine, let’s hope our limited thinking is always wrong. May we always be pleasantly surprised by the size of the gift that materializes in front of our eyes.  BAM!

DIX & ANA ROPER
    July 31,2003
    dixroper@earthlink.net