October, 2006

If the entire west coast of California and Mexico was strange and spotty for diving in the summer of ‘06—then Panama was no exception. The tropical rainstrorms were comfortable in a wetsuit, the winds were manageable, the muddy roads still passable, but the real “killer” for enjoyable diving in summer ‘06 was Bad Vis. In Panama there is usually some area that has clear water but in Aug of ‘06, clear water was very elusive. With bad vis, it is only our undaunted optimism, past pleasant surprises, and the ability to enjoy every ocean experience, that makes us breathe up, tuck and make just one more dive.

    The minute I jumped in the water and saw the 5- 10 foot thick murk layer on the surface, I knew the wahoo diving was probably not going to materialize. Everything else can be right, but, in my experience, if there is no vis - there are no wahoo. This small island usually holds fish at the dropoff, but with the poor conditions, I would be surprised to see anything. I was really disappointed, because both Michelle, and our dive buddy Paul, had never shot a wahoo and Paul also had a new gun that he was excited to try out. We checked all the areas where I had found wahoo before without sighting a single fish and the whole place looked turned off. We were ready to give up but we decided to make one final check at the most unlikely spot. Paul saw the first fish as he slid off the panga into the water. Maybe the motor attracts the fish because Michelle then saw two more cruising just under the murk layer. We had been diving only 200 feet away and never saw a fish but the small shift in location made all the difference. Of course, when we finally found the fish we were out of time and a storm was coming but it was great to finally see some nice size wahoo. Paul had two frustrating encounters as his first wahoo experience but had a chance to see where his new gun was shooting. His shot went high on the first fish and on the next big one that came in, he clipped the top of the fish, and then never got a chance to adjust fire on the third fish. I felt great to finally put a shaft in a fish and then I scored on one more just before the storm arrived and it was time to go. Michelle was injured in action and could not dive but saw several good opportunities to shoot. The day before we had been diving pargo on a deep spot and we saw some nice fish. She followed me down before she was warmed up and had given her body time to adjust. I shot a small pargo but on our way up, there was a pop, water flooded into her ear, and she lost her equilibrium. Her diving was over and she ended up with an ear infection that lasted about two weeks.

    When the dark black clouds hit us the rain was so incredible you could not open your eyes. We could see nothing, but the driver decided to run for home in the rough seas without regard for Michelle sitting forward on the floor of the panga. Being a tough little girl, she did not complain about the pounding and the next day she had a sore back to go with her painful ear. The next time the driver wants to go fast, I will handle the motor and put him up in the pre-paralytic zone so he gets the idea. With the injuries and bad conditions we decided to call it quits on this trip but our persistence had finally put us on some fish.

    On the way back to Panama it cost us a bag of fish to get out of a traffic ticket. Sgt. Juarez said we should drive in the slow lane where all the potholes are, instead of the smooth fast lane. I bribed him with some fish to avoid an argument, but since his motorcycle did not have a cooler he ask if we would deliver it 5 miles down the road and leave it at the restaurant where he ate. We started to shine him on, but we had plenty of fish so we made the delivery. I know they will probably deep fry the wahoo until it is like cardboard for the cop, but we did not have the time to stay around and cook it for him too.

    After a couple of weeks of drops, ciproflaxen antibiotic, rest, and an ear test to make sure Michelle’s ear drum was not ruptured, we were ready for another live aboard panga trip. Our normal dilemma of getting a third person to go with us was solved when Roman, a friend from the pool, but with no dive experience, volunteered to go with us. He was ready for the 4:30 AM reveille with 25 lbs of food to feed his 6’ 7” frame, but no wetsuit, no hood, no snorkle, and only a thin emergency blanket for the nighttime rain storms. He was great at handling the boat and was a whiz with the GPS.

    We arrived at the bottom of the Perlas, 70 miles south of Panama and found our first reasonably clear water and some huge floating logs that were just beneath the surface. These are like mines for a small boat if you are running fast and don’t see them. The water was a plankton soup, with every imaginable shape of gelatinous, shiny, transparent, and pulsating organisms. I felt I needed to keep my arm extended in front of me to cut through the soup and avoid the agua malas. With a full suit, hood and mask you only feel an occassional zing but Roman did not have the protection and ran headlong into a big stinger. It really lit up his face, neck and chest and he came out of the water hyperventilating with big red blotches that lasted a couple of days. He was then happy to be boat man and recover while Michelle and I chased the dorado around the logs. The fish were small but the flasher kept them close enough so that Michelle managed to pop five. We could hear and see the whales close and I reminded myself to be sure and pull my flasher when we left. A local diver forgot to pick up his flasher and as they motored a humpback whale came up out of the water, right behind the boat, inhaled his entire flasher and disappeared.

    As we headed for our night anchorage at Punta Cocos I could see the water change from blue to murky and it turned out we were leaving the only clear water we would find for the four days. We arrived early enough at our protected spot so that we had time for gunnery practice. It is fun to speed around shooting from the prow of the boat, trying to hit targets floating in the water. It is good practice, but more importantly it is a message to anyone that might be around, Do Not make night visits!

    Before we arrived at our new, secret spot the next morning we could see the conditions were a disaster. We were ready for some big fish but instead we got big wind, big waves, big current and dirty water. We threw the anchor to see if we could wait it out and then the 75 foot float line and buoy behind the boat. One at a time we could each get wet and do a current check. With fins, but no gun, from 20 feet behind the boat, none of us could make it back. We had to grab the line and pull ourselves in because the whole ocean was moving like a river. Luckily we were able to pull the anchor then we decided to try one pass over our secret spot, and afterwards head to a calmer area. What we saw on this first pass will be forever imprinted in my mind’s eye.

    As I watched Michelle come up from a dive I saw two huge, 50 lb. plus Bohala following her up. As I watched, these two were followed by at least 8 more monsters in the 50 - 70 lb class. There were no small ones. My heart raced as I watched these huge fish circle beneath us at 15 feet, totally unafraid but I realized we were getting carried past the high spot. I pointed and motioned to Michelle to immediately go down without catching her breath as I was afraid they would leave. She saw the fish, her heart went to redline, she was totally excited, but also fearful and still out of breath as she tucked and dove into the middle if the brazen bullys. She could see those huge eyes watching her from 6 to 8 feet away, as they circled, without fear, maybe wondering if she were edible. The sight was fantastic—I have Never in my life, seen so many big fish, so close. I thought, this is her chance-she can’t miss. I watched as Michelle tried to pull the gun around with her finger on the trigger. She was nervous, out of air and she put too much pressure on the trigger trying to swing the gun around and accidentally fired.- BAM. She shot into space before the gun was ever lined up. I could NOT believe she missed. Everything was perfect and she was hoping for this chance to shoot a monster. I knew this was an opportunity that would probably never repeat. I dove down into the midst of the display of beauty and power as the school of these massive, thick bodied fish just milled around me. As I selected the one that looked the biggest, another would appear that was larger, and then another, less than 10 feet away. I went back up and stared to load the gun but I could see they were loosing interest and we were way down current. By the second band they had dropped into the depths. Michelle, my Chocolatita, could not have felt more dejected, knowing she choked, big time. She was totally depressed not by the One That Got Away, but by the Ten Monsters That Got Away, without a scratch. For the next couple of nights, as she relived the experience, the Ten That Got Away haunted her in her dreams and she was really angry that she had blown her chance for a new personal best. I had to remind her that we all have the experience of the One That Got Away, just like Paul had with his first wahoo. Also, she still had little experience, as it was a just a few short months ago that she first entered the water world starting from Zero. But that many fish, that big, that close—-The Ten That Got Away—- she will Never, Ever forget. I made one more pass and I scored on one medium fish but never saw “the herd”. You can bet we will be back her again when the cold water comes.

    Michelle was so frustrated by the “Ten” that she wanted to shoot something /anything to remove the curse and reassure herself, so we started back North to look for better water and Bocipenda or yellowjack. They are fun to hunt and awesome for eating. We saw two on the bottom at 20 feet and Michelle with blood in her eye and a itchy trigger finger powered down and popped the first fish just as he started to run. It was a difficult snap shot so she felt better knowing she has not “lost it” and could still shoot.

    The last night the downpours came again and I was amazed that Roman could sleep as the rain pounded on the thin, silver emergency blanket covering his body. He is hard core, has good breathhold, is comfortable in the water, and will be a good diver. Sleeping under the tarp, Michelle and I talked more about the “Ten” and I told her sometimes it works the other way-that you are given a fish that you, in reality, should Never, Ever have successfully landed.

    Our buddy Voyto’s recent gift came to mind. He shot a Pargo in the head and the fish and shaft were cut off in the rocks. Fifteen months later he finds his shaft in the same rocks, takes it home and cuts off the rusty threads, grinds a point on the shaft and puts on a flopper to make a Euro shaft. He said the shaft looked like spagetti. On the next trip to the same rocks, with this rusted, bent, shaft, and a reel, he makes a precise fifteen foot shot and the fish rolls over dead. His once in a lifetime gift—- A three hundred pound fish. Stoned! And the next day he sees two more the same size or larger and does not shoot. His gift is complete.

    To get Michelle into a positive space and to get the experience of “The Ten” in proper perspective I reminded her to focus on the gift that she Was given, the uniqueness of what she saw. When we choose to immerse ourselves as freedivers in the ocean realm, we go beyond the familiar and the routine, and always nature awaits us offering challenges, expansion, adventure, danger, in endless forms and suprises. From the moment we leave the ramp our job is to be open to, recognize and mostly appreciate whatever is offered. Always there is a gift for us beyond what we expect or can imagine. After a full day of diving, well fed, with the night rain pounding on the tarp two feet overhead, with Michelle, my Chocolatita by my side, I thought—What gift can be better than this?—Then Michlle ask me -When the water gets cold, do those big Mero go to our secret place where we saw The Ten That Got Away? I could see her aiming in her mind—-BAM—.

Dix Roper
     October,  2006
     dixroper@earthlink.net