sergei miami » 11-02-2009 08:42
World Record Pez Gallo!
It is hard to get skunked in one of the best places to dive in the world but we managed to do it. The Pinas Jaque area of Panama is renowned for big fish, and when Brandon Whalers and Alex Dunn agreed to drive our panga down and back, about 300 miles, so that we could fly there and meet them, we were excited. With my tweaked back, Michelle and I could at least fly down, and the month of May is usually great for wahoo, dorado and sails. Brandon and Alex, diving to 80 feet, did manage to shoot a couple of pargo, but for Michelle and I, it was a total Shut-Out instead of a Shoot Out, and we never fired our gun in two and a half days. The full moon, dirty water, no rain, and the local divers conspired against us, but we still had a great time together. Brandon and Alex had one wild, wet, rainy night, but with the four of us living and diving out of the panga, it was all a fun adventure. However, for next time, I lined up a dry place for us to stay, a five star hotel, on stilts, for two bucks a night. No water, no light, no walls but a palm roof to keep out the rain and a bare breasted owner. Nothing but class.
After a couple of weeks of licking our wounds and with the rainy season late, but finally cranking up, we decided it was about time to make another trip and try to shoot some fish in the Perlas. It takes us two or three days to prepare everything that is required for three people to live five days in a panga. The amount of stuff necessary in order to travel, dive, hunt, sleep, stay dry and eat is endless. Then, when we put over 600 lbs of gas in the boat and two coolers of ice, I am amazed that the panga still floats.
This will be the second trip for Fabio, our young part time helper and trainee. He is a San Blas Indian trying to survive living in a very poor, tough neighborhood where he cannot walk the streets unarmed. He gets up at 4AM to catch the bus, to work for us at 7AM. We are trying to change him from a gang banger to our panga driver which will be great for us both. He gets to escape the ghetto, and be astounded by the marvel of the ocean, while he earns a few bucks, and Michelle and I get in more dive time. Fabio will not take off his shirt, because of his bullet wounds and tattoos, and at the age of 22, he has already been shot twice. But he is responsible, hard working, and enthusiastic so I think, It s About Time, he gets to do something fun in his life. He is excited to be learning and having new adventures with us and maybe we can even improve his shooting skills for his next ghetto gunfight.
Just two days before we were to leave, a sloth slash almost cancelled our trip. I saw a sloth crawling on the pavement in front of the house, and because of a fence, he could not get to a tree. I grabbed him by the back of the neck with one hand and with my other hand, I grabbed his left arm to carry him to a tree. He reached back with his right arm and I could feel him grasp my forearm but I did not realize he had razor sharp claws. He dug a big hole in my forearm before I got him to the tree. I was worried about infection from the animal as well as diving with an open laceration in warm ocean water but it turned out that I was lucky and it never got inflamed.
Finally we were back on the water and after the 65 mile run to the Perlas in relatively smooth seas, we were at one of our favorite dive spots by 11 AM. After more than two hours diving, the only big thing we saw was a huge manta cruising close by. It was not looking fishy so we decided to move closer in, to about fifty feet of water where we could clearly see the big boulders and sand bottom. I was thinking It s About Time to see some fish when the Pez Gallo Parade started. Out of the clear, blue water came a school of about 15 pez gallo, or roosterfish, in all their splendor. They were magnificent, and with the sun glinting off their metallic, silver bodies they came streaming into our presence. They were swimming unafraid, boldly, on the hunt. I handed the gun to Michelle and as she started down, they swirled around her for one pass and started to leave as they had satisfied their curiosity. Then my heart stopped as the massive leader broke from the pack, and turned to come back, for just one last look. I saw Michelle slowly stretch the gun toward the big fish and as that precise, perfect moment arrived I thought - Now -NOW! - NOW! and she fired BAM -. From behind and above her I watched the flight of the shaft, propelled by three, nine sixteenths bands, as it hit the fish right in the head and froze him in his tracks. After a moment or two, he went into short runs of power but was disoriented and mortally wounded. When she got him to the surface and tried to grab him as he thrashed about, only then did she realize what a monster she had shot. It s About Time she finally got to shoot something, and the 80 pound pez gallo was well worth the wait. It turned out the 80 pound fish was a new world record weight, but since we did not take the measurements it did not qualify for the official record. But we are totally stoked she landed the fish, because with anything but a stone shot, she probably would have somehow lost the fish due to their immense, explosive, power. It may not be official, but for me and my little 95 HP Chocolatita the 80 pound mongo Pez Gallo is the new record to beat. Michelle is delighted.
The following day we went outside to where the shrimp boats were working in 300 feet of water. We were thinking there might be big fish when they stop to clean their catch and dump tons of by-catch over the side. However they only stopped for a moment to empty the net and immediately dropped it back over the side, so it was not safe to get close to the boat. But nearby we found pargo segueros on the surface in a feeding frenzy. There were 50 or more big gold fish, two to three feet long feeding on the small baitfish near an old floating log. When I lay motionless in the water the bait would hide under me and the pargo would attack. After being rammed twice by the aggressive pargo I had to poke them away with my spear. It was fascinating to watch from such a close distance, as these big, hungry, mid-water fish worked as a pack, but we were running out of time and we wanted to look for dorado.
We checked a lot of logs and pallets floating in the drift line but we were still early in the season and there was not much life. Finally Michelle caught that golden glint beneath the surface and It s About Time, as we were ready to leave. She slid in the water first, and two minutes later, just as I was ready to jump in, I saw the buoy take off. She landed a beautiful 38 pound dorado with a great shot.Nothing else showed up so it was back to night anchorage.
Two nights in a row we had calm, perfect, no rain conditions. The next day we went lobster diving with the Indians to see how they did it and to see if they could turn us on to any new places. They get $10 a pound for lobster tails now so they are in the water at daylight, with no wetsuits and no protection against the jelly fish. They use a three foot long metal hand spear, shoot them all, without regard to size or eggs and throw them in the boat. They are diving 40-50 feet and deeper, and when we left, the four divers and driver in the panga had over one hundred lobsters. This place will be cleaned out very soon just like all the other places in Panama. We then went to a shallow close place that we know, to look for Bohala. The reason there are fish here is that it is a tiny place, hard to find, and if you are not exactly on the bait, there is nothing. We had a great time just making two drops on each drift and then Fabio picked us up and we did it again. I finally managed to score with a 35 pound Bohala, it s about time, and Michelle shot one the same size, and then landed a powerful, 52 pound fish that gave her a great battle.
That night our luck with the weather changed. At 4:30 in the morning, there was a great, massive lightning bolt and a clap of thunder and the skies opened up. Fabio was sleeping on a small air mattress on the floor wrapped up in a tarp. We were dry under the front tarp, but in a very short time we had 6 inches of water in the boat and Fabio was floating around in the back of the boat, on his air mattress, still asleep. Michelle got up with a bucket and bailed and fortunately the rain came toward morning so we had plenty of sleep. The storm was a great refreshing washdown for the boat and all our dive equipment and I was thinking It s About Time the rainy season finally showed up.
Low on gas, food and ice it was time to start the long trip home. Though we usually have no luck on the way back, we left at 6 AM just in case we found some inviting logs. About an hour later, eagle eye Michelle saw a speck on the horizon and we veered to check it out.The water was clear and calm, the bait was there and we saw the golden glint of dorado beneath the big floating tree trunk. It s About Time we found a good log. We tried diving without a wetsuit but the agua malas were zinging us too much so we had to suit up. We had a great time as it was calm and beautiful and several times nice size fish came into range. We both shot a couple of dorado and Michelle even shot a small wahoo before the fish vacated the area.
The next log also looked great and this time I was first in the water. I slid off the side, Fabio gave me the gun, and I looked down at a beautiful sailfish not ten feet away. I yelled for Michelle to hurry and jump in, but by the time she got her fins on, the fish was gone. We saw him twice more but we never got close enough for a good shot. I think the sail was after the dorado and we managed to shoot two more nice ones and lost them both. I handed mine to Fabio who grabbed it by the tail and it flipped out of his grip and escaped. Then Michelle shot a big one and I watched it jump high out of the water, and when it hit, he snapped the mono and ran off with the only shaft for our Omer gun.
With the coolers full and perfect flat conditions we finished the last 50 miles to Panama in about two hours. By nightfall the boat was cleaned and stashed away and the gear washed and we were back into another world of sex and the city. All trips are fun Fish or No Fish - but some are unforgettable. The dry spells are all part of the dues we pay, and every hour in the water brings us closer to that moment when we say It s About Time as a big fish appears. The Shoot- Outs are more enjoyable than the Shut- Outs without question, and for us when the Pez Gallo Parade started - all dry spells and unsuccessful hunts were instantly forgotten. As we looked at our empty freezer and then started to fill it with bags of fresh dorado, bohala and wahoo we could not help but think IT S ABOUT TIME! we put some fish in the freezer. Gratitude!
Dix and Michelle Roper
June 16, 2008
, куда не сунься визде шмонают.
Да и воздух как то уж очень быстро кончается, наверно надо начинать тренировать задержки в динамике. Да и много лишних движений делаю при нырке, хотя и ногу подымаю, да все с суетливостью не справлюсь.
