Las Perlas, Panama

It was time for a decision—do we want to go for today’s flat water and full moon or, should we wait for the quarter moon and maybe have more wind and rough seas. I have never had much luck with the full moon, but with my bad back, we decided to go for the smooth ride and hope we could find some fish. We even lucked out and found a young guy to drive the boat so Michelle and I could dive together. Fabio had no boat experience but was enthusiastic and being an Indian from the San Blas I knew he would catch on fast. The San Blasters are usually responsible, good workers, dependable, and also make good divers.

By noon on the first day we were checking out our favorite places and it was not looking good. The first ten foot layer of water was 82 degrees with zillions of small jelly fish and below that it was cold, dirty and pretty deserted.  After a couple of fruitless hours we knew it was time to move to the next island about fifteen miles away.  We also got blanked on these usual great spots where we have shot a ton of fish. It could be the change of seasons, but I suspect the full moon was not a good choice. It was getting late so we decided to head for night anchorage and hit one last reef on the way in.  Since it was low light and dirty, I was going to just jump in without the gun and check the conditions but at the last minute I grabbed my pistola—just in case.

I was hanging at about 20 feet and ready to give up for the day when I was shocked by this massive form moving toward me out of the murk. Shark? Too thick, wrong shape and open mouth but no teeth. I wasn’t sure what it was, but probably one of those mystical meros that I had heard about. He checked me out as possible food and started to turn away and down. I thoroughly and carefully considered all the ramifications of shooting this unexpected fish, for a long time--- at least for one second ---- and swung my gun, tensed my arms, and squeezed off the shot---BAM-

He did not explode like a pargo or wahoo but seemed to lumber along unaffected.  I went up for a breath and he pulled me and the buoy back down with little effort. Several times we went up, I would get a breath or two and then back down we would go for another ride. At times I had to let go and go up for air and could swim along on the surface as I followed the buoy underwater. The buoy surfaced again and I grabbed it and called to Michelle for a second buoy. Just as she arrived, I reached for the new buoy with my left hand and I felt myself getting pulled sideways and beneath the surface again by the line and buoy in my right hand. I had time for one big breath but missed grabbing the new buoy by one foot.  It was a great, long ride but I finally ran out of air and as I went up I watched the buoy disappear for good.  I figured there was about an 80% chance that we had lost the fish but there were two things in our favor.  (1) I had a short 40 foot float line that kept constant pressure on the fish and (2) since these fish come out of deep water and are only here for three or four weeks a year for the sardine run, he probably did not have a cave where he could hole up.

So we decided to wait till dark, and I climbed in the boat, marked the spot, and Michelle offered to scout the area swimming around to see if she could see the top of the buoy. To our great surprise, in about 15 minutes the buoy popped up and we were ready with two more. As I jumped in the water and clipped them to the float line, I felt confident for the first time that we were going to land this fish. When I got the fish to the surface I discovered the huge, sharp dorsal spines, the massive mouth, and the razor sharp gill rakers. I decided it was wise to administer the coup de grace with my knife before I put my hand near his mouth to run a rope through the gills. When I tried to brain the fish I got my knife in about five inches and then could not get it in or back out. I finally cut the gills and then ran a rope through the gill plates to secure the fish.

It only took us two attempts at lifting the fish to know that wasn’t happening.  It was ----Too Big To Boat ---- The three of us could not pull it in the panga and, if we did, how would we ever get it back out. What were we going to do with this monster?—we had been up since 4:30 AM, it was getting dark and we could not deal.  We knew there was a fishing village close so we decided to tow it there and get help.

Michelle swam in to the beach with a rope attached to the fish and she explained we wanted a scale, and someone who would clean the fish for half of the meat. There was no scale but two fishermen agreed on the fish cleaning deal. I asked them where they were going to clean the fish and they pointed to the sand. I said that would not work so they finally found a rusty piece of metal to put the fish on. Their estimate of the fish’s weight was over 300 lbs and though fish of this size are rare for them they have a pretty good idea of weight because they sell their catch.

Everybody turned out for the show. The big fish, the picture taking, the gringo, the Panamanian girl in the wet suit joking with them, etc. etc. were all part of an enjoyable new event in their quiet lives. We even ran into another Indian that had dived with us in another part of Panana the year before and he remembered our names. The party lasted about a half an hour, and after I swam a couple of buckets of fillets out to the panga we were toasted.  It was a great experience for everybody, as they were happy with the fish and we were happy for their help.  We swam out to the panga and in fifteen minutes we were in our night anchorage.  It was time for showers, sandwiches and sleep, hopefully without a night rain storm.  Panama is one of the few places where you can shower on the swim step in the dark, and then sleep in a tee shirt under the stars, without freezing to death. The warm weather sure makes the diving more comfortable.

The next morning there was a sailboat in the same anchorage and a curious and gracious French couple, invited us for coffee. They were getting ready to leave on a long ocean crossing where one of them would sail and the other sleep, and they would alternate places every three hours. They would sail 24 hours a day, for thirty days, and take turns sleeping every three hours.  It did not sound like much fun and then they told us they had been sailing the oceans for four years and had never dived and never fished. I think somebody was missing out on a lot of great diving. Glad I was not going with them.

With the lack of fish, but smooth seas we decided to make the run down to the Darien coast to see if our luck would change. It is a magnificent coast with no roads, but lush growth, and beautiful coves that are enticing but dangerous. The sharks are on the land awaiting unwary and unprotected prey.  The number one business here is cocaine and number two is kidnapping. A captured gringo is a valuable commodity as is a boat and motor. We go, knowing this, but are prepared and have never had a problem.  Fabio and I acted as pirate watch with pistol and shotgun and Michelle dove and managed to put two nice Bohala in the cooler and we were full. We had a great time diving and exploring this isolated coast and are anxious to go back.

This trip, as is usually the case, was full of new surprises and new challenges. Swimming in the schools of sardines was fantastic but I have never seen the jellies so thick. We finally had flat seas but our favorite spots were almost empty of fish.  However, it was great to land one massive fish and feed the entire village.  I learned to avoid the full moon, except for wahoo time, and that the last dive of the day might be my best.  Though the fish were on vacation, our explatory trip might have led us to a new discovery. We might have found what all divers dream about---a place and the time where another special type of big fish congregate in numbers. We are excited to go back and Michelle said it is her turn first.  If the Gods are with us, the next report will be about the hunt for yet another of Neptune’s magnificent creatures that is ----
“TOO BIG TO BOAT”

Dix and Michelle Roper 4/27/08

 
P.S.  For those that might have problems with guns, girls or giant fish, please spare me your comments. Not interested.  If you can’t say something positive don’t say anything.