July, 2006

It was just the two of us in my panga. Michelle and I had been traveling for more than three hours over the calm, warm seas and were now 70 miles from Panama. I woke Michelle on the floor of the boat from her Dramamine drowsiness and told her to get on her mask and fins and if we were lucky she would get to see something cool.  I positioned the boat in the line of travel, cut the motor, and told Michelle to jump in and go down as soon as she could.  She went down about 15 feet in the clear water,  scanned right and nothing – scanned left—and her vision was blocked by a black, monstrous, moving wall,  8 feet away. As she tried to focus, it took her a couple of seconds to register that she was by herself in the open ocean, and right next to her was a black, 40 feet long, 40 ton, living monster of the deep, far more enormous and fightening than she had ever imagined. I saw her hit the surface like a Polaris and in the same motion rip off her mask with her eyes huge.  When she kept repeating “I don’t want to look” I realized that this encounter had been a bit close for this brave little girl, new to swimming and the ocean world. But since no tails or 15 foot long pectoral fins of the enormous Humpbacks had come crashing down, after a few moments Michelle felt safe again, and though still awe struck, we were soon laughing about her rare and memorable experience. Few people ever get that close to a Humpback in the water because usually they veer off, but this time it must have been a special gift to the new visitor to the ocean realm.

    We had tried to find a third person for the trip to the Perlas but without success.  We would not be able to dive any of the normal spots together because it was far too dangerous to get more than 10 feet from the boat as you would be swept away by the current.  Also, I did not want Michelle to shoot any big fish if I were not in the water with her as there was too much risk or her getting wrapped and drowned.  So we decided the thrust of this trip was to search for floating gold in the open waters miles away from the nearest islands.  Finding floating gold is when you motor for miles and miles in open ocean and, if you are lucky, you see birds sitting on a floating log off in the distance. If you are out of the current lanes or if the log is new, with little marine growth,  it probably will not hold anyfish. But when you pull up to that special log and you see the blue and green flashes of Dorado you know you have struck floating gold.  Michelle had never seen a Dorado, so when we found this log and saw the flashes, we just tied up to it, relieved that we no longer had to worry about the currents, the waves or the rocks and that we could relax and hunt together. It was great diving for Michelle and even though the dorado were small they were plentiful.  She was very proud of her first dorado and she shot three more before they moved on.  Hunting in the open, warm water with just mask, snorkel and fins was a great natural experience that we both thoroughly enjoyed.

    On the way back to night anchorage I wanted to check a new high spot that we had just found. It was tiny and hard to hit but this time everything was right and the bohala were there in force. At one time I had five around me over 50 lbs. and I stoned one with my T-20 that came too close. When we come back next time with a boat driver, I think Michelle will have her chance at another big fish but I need to stay by her side until she learns to stay clear of the line.

    We had hoped to make this trip all the way to Jaque or Penas Bay, another 70 or 80 miles south near the border of Colombia. Since we would travel maybe 400 miles we knew we would need to have gas sent there for the return trip. The week before we had made a recon trip by air to Jaque to see if it was a feasible deal and for Michelle’s first airplane ride.  We found out we could send the two barrels by coastal trader, but they would throw the barrels in the water and we would have to have someone arranged to pick up the full barrels, move them to the beach and then roll them 300 or 400 yards to their house to store them until we arrived.  Then we would have to pay someone to do the reverse to get the gas out to the panga “if “ the river mouth was passable.  After diving around there for the day we decided the conditions right now did not warrant the effort.  It is also a very dangerous area and we were told not to walk past the edge of town and that we should sleep in the house next to the small military base. Two foreigners were sequestered (read kidnapped) during the day, from the beach here two months ago, in front of 20 workers,  and the ransom negotiations are still going on. Though I was armed, I ask a soldier to join us to walk over and see one of the concrete bunkers from WWII where a woman was living. She proudly showed us her house where the thick concrete walls and roof kept her cool and where she had broken out some holes to make windows. Many squatters are coming into this area from Colombia to escape the craziness in their home country. We decided to return to Jaque another time, when there were three of us, better armed, better diving conditions and with a better way to get gas sent down.

    The last night of this live aboard panga trip was frightening as it was dark, windy and rainy. It seemed like we were dragging anchor and the big black rocks looked closer the more tired I got.  I had to keep checking so I did not sleep much, but when morning came I was surprised to see that we had not moved much at all. I guess I have to trust my GPS more. Michelle and I had a great time but I realized that to dive most spots it is necessary to have three people—two in the water and one in the boat. So for the next adventure we dedided to drive to a place where we would rent a panga with driver, and that way we can both be in the water together to look for wahoo that we heard were showing up.

    This area is another hard core trip, a days drive from Panama, muddy roads, no good place to stay, toting gear and gas and maybe dirty water in this rainy season.  Much of the drive to get there is along small, little traveled roads, where you cannot exceed 40 mph due to potholes and cattle. Michelle discovered that the most fun way to ride is standing on the running board with the door held open or sitting on the window frame and leaning out while holding on to the the inside handle with one hand. Both ways work great to keep cool and enjoy the countryside.  All along the road is teak growing up to be spearguns. The photo is for those of you that have not seen the beauty of teak in this form.

    My favorite highspot here is 8 miles out and comes up to about 110 feet deep.  It is a tiny structure, no larger than the size of a room but usually holds fish and is far enough from shore to be less affected by the rains.  We first saw a large school of pargo achote deep and I managed to shoot one for dinner.  Michelle managed to shoot her first blue jack which here are very difficult to approach. They are powerful and beautiful jacks but the meat is white and delicious.  I saw one really monster, grouper- shaped fish down at 80 or 90 feet but he never came up to my depth so I don’t know what it was. The biggest surprise came when Michlle pointed behind me and I turned to see this beautiful rooster miles offshore. Though I only had the small gun, I dove down a few feet and waited and he came back and turned broadside.  BAM. Great shot and he did not move—at least for a few seconds—and then he exploded down and out. Though well shot he put up a major battle and I gave Michelle the gun and reel while I went for the camera. She was pulled under a couple of times before I returned and we subdued the fish. The shape and markings of this fish are striking and though the meat is red,  roosters are eaten by the fishermen here. The wahoo never showed up but as usual, “next month” is supposed to be the magic month. We will be there.

    We made one more trip to the Perlas but this time there were three of us. Hans was a capable Central Calif guy, on a sailboat in Panama, a surfer, but with “0” dive experience.  We left the canal at 6:30 AM and in about 4 hours we arrived directly at the new high spot where I had been surrounded by Bohala. Hans and I jumped in, up current, and as we drifted to the spot, a humpback passed directly beneath Hans. Most of the time whales were around us within a couple of hundred yards singing their eerie songs. We saw the bait deep but maybe the bigger fish were still there. Since I wanted Michelle to have a go at another Bohala, she and I made the next pass.  She went down and a nice bohala came and left.  Michelle stayed down and the fish turned and came back, this time close enough—BAM. She went up to fight the fish but she was too heavily weighted and had to stay vertical in the water, finning hard, which sucked up her energy. Fortunately she had a good shot so she managed to get the fish up, but had the fish been bigger she would have needed help. Michelle was very excited to have shot and landed another by herself.

    On this trip with Hans we discovered another new place 10 miles out when looking for logs. It was a tiny place that probably had never been dived and came up to 60 feet.  We missed it the first pass and on the second pass the bait and then the big fish appeared and it was time to get the big gun. It was getting late so Hans and I jumped in and three bohala came up and I shot one. On the next pass Michelle and I jumped in together. I went down and a beautiful red pargo came up to about 20 feet. I looked up and called Michelle down.  She saw the fish but kicked down too slow and I was running out of air. The fish came in and gave me a perfect shot and I could not let the moment pass. –BAM—  She had never seen a big pargo before and she was really excited to be by my side when I shot. Next time she may have a chance for her first pargo, as this place is 10 miles into “indian country” and no one ever goes here. We made the long run back to the night anchorage and got the tarp up just before a massive lightning and thunder storm hit us. The rain provides good cover for someone to approach the boat but with the lightening going off every few seconds it would light up the entire area for a split second so the we could see all around us. It was a wild night as we watched the bolts as they seemed to strike the trees on the beach and the water around us. Hans was uncomfortable at first but got used to it.

    The next day we had fun hunting bocipenda or yellow jacks. Hans shot his first fish ever and Michelle shot her first bocipenda. With his first fish I think Hans got hooked and he started talking about buying himself a speargun. We all understand the excitement and thrill of discovereing spearfishing for the first time.  I had another nice surprise just 50 feet off the point of one of the islands. I was 15 feet down, in the bait, and a sail materialized at my side and raised his sail.  I was so surprised and impressed by his beauty and size that I hesitated and just watched.  I belatedly tried to close the distance but he felt my approach and turned to leave.  I did a hail mary shot but my indecision had cost me a magnificent fish.  We then made a 22 mile run north, to get to shelter for the night and just got anchored and cleaned up near Contadora, when some loud speakers came on. We apparently were on the set for the Survivors Show and they did not want us in their shots,  so were told we had to leave.  We found a better spot in 10 feet of water and had an awesome quiet night for a change.  We had a smooth three hour run back to Panama and I counted over thirty ships waiting here on the Pacific side to transit the Canal. We shot into the canal, to the ramp five minutes from the house, and still had enough energy left for the five hour boat and equipment clean up operation.

    One great thing about living four days in a panga is that you really appreciate simple things that we might forget or take for granted—like a roof, a hot shower, a clean bed, cooked food and safety. But additional personal and unique blessings that I am grateful for as an older guy are —my health and physical power,  the continuous unfoldment of new ocean adventures, and especially my trippy, enthusiastic muchacha, housekeeper, dive buddy, girlfriend, etc with whom I get to share all these amazing experiences.  May I survive teaching her how to drive and dive, and may we all be open to and appreciate our unique blessings and especially the unfettered freedom to enjoy new and unlimited adventures in the water world. Good hunting.

Dix Roper
     July,  2006
     dixroper@earthlink.net