We are in Puerto Rico over the weekend for work last week and next, so we spent today following around birds who were hunting smaller fish, to eat them. The smaller fish were escaping from larger fish, who were trying to eat them. We were trying to catch the larger fish and eat them. And of course, the ocean, given half a chance, would kill us, and we would get eaten by something. We caught a barracuda and a yellowfin tuna. The barracuda, who ate our (fake) bait, got tossed back because they eat so much nasty crap that they accumulate poisons and are not usually safe for us to eat. We ate the tuna.
The day started early with a trip to Fajardo. Alberto picked Ed and me up and drove us out, despite a very apparent hangover. We got to the Marina a little before 8 am and met up with Ibrahim , aka Mustapha or Musta. Musta is a very talkative sales-y kind of guy whose father is from Palestine and whose mother is Puerto Rican. He speaks good English and extremely rapid Spanish and was also the guy who found the boat for us and arranged the trip. He was cleaning his own boat when we got there.
We met up with the boat, captained by Hochee, assisted by Cochee, who owns his own large charter boat, as well as being enrolled in Law School and who knows what else. We pulled out from the dock about 9 and headed out about seven miles off shore to where the shelf drops off abruptly and the water is about 1000 feet deep and sapphire blue.
Once we reached a likely spot the boat slowed and Cochee started to set up the rods with their bait, which looks like rubber squids. Once the lures are attached, the lines are dropped over and attached to the lines of the tuna tower with a large rubber band. When a fish takes the lure, the rubber band gives way, and the line is paid out, but until then, the attachment keeps the lines from crossing too much. Once the lines are set up, we begin to troll at about 5-10 miles per hour on the open sea.
Diesel fumes waft across the area, mixing with the smell from Cochee’s cigarette, bringing a powerful combination of aromas to bear in a very small environment that keeps moving around in unpredictable ways. The first beers of the morning come out. I have a Diet Pepsi. Ed is like a little kid, he is so excited. He has wanted to do this for quite a while, and finally it’s happening for him. We keep going around in a zigzag pattern, watching for birds, flying fish and other telltales. This part gets pretty boring pretty fast. You can only look at the scenery for so long, especially when it’s hard to stand up and move around.
After about two hours, a fish takes a lure, and a flurry of activity begins. Cochee brings the rod over to Ed, who had been sitting in the chair, and then he begins to reel in the rest of the rods that might cross over the active line. Ed begins a rhythmic pumping of the rod, pulling the rod up then reeling in as he drops the rod. This continues for a while until he has landed a barracuda, which Cochee quickly releases back into the ocean once I have taken a picture of Ed and the fish.
After the barracuda goes back home, we keep rolling around in the water with the sun beating down and the diesel fumes pumping out into the hot humid air. I eat a sandwich to settle my stomach, have a beer and we keep trolling.
Eventually I curl up on the bench and take a nap, probably for about an hour. All of a sudden the nap is interrupted when the reel starts making a ratcheting whine and the line begins to pay out quickly. We have another fish, and it’s my turn in the chair. The rod is heavy, and the rhythm of reeling in is difficult. The line goes out another 150 yards or more as the fish dives. I decide that if the fish is going to come over the transom it will be done by Ed, so I relinquish the rod and after about twenty minutes he brings it in. Chochee gaffs it and it’s in the boat. A yellowfin tuna, probably about twenty or twenty five pounds. Lots of pictures and more beer.
We go back to trolling for a while, and then around 2:00 Hochee packs it in and we head back to shore (I’m secretly glad about this decision). We stop along the way to butcher the fish and put the meat into plastic bags. This is prime sushi.
Musta says, why don’t we all go over to his place and cook the fish, so we do. His girlfriend doesn’t kill him for bringing a bunch of dirty fishermen home. The fish is delicious.
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