Grand Cayman Tarpon

My first go at snorkelling on my own on Grand Cayman was the first time I saw a tarpon. I was standing on the beach, about to put my mask on, when I saw two long fishy shapes show in a swell before the wave broke.

They looked rather shark-like to me, but I hopped in the water anyway, feeling wary. After swimming around for a while, I saw them again, looming towards me, and decided it was time to exit the water. I hadn't seen anything like it. They were big fish (the adults will often grow to over two metres long.)

Afterwards, I was informed that they were probably tarpon.

I was only visiting the Cayman Islands at the time, and ended up coming back about a year later after landing a job there.

Some of my favourite memories from my time on Grand Cayman are of fishing for young tarpon in the mangrove canals (man-made canals and roads through mangrove swamps.)

I assume the adult tarpon must come inland into these areas to spawn, and the young slowly move out to the sea as they mature, although Wikipedia says otherwise: "Tarpons breed offshore in warm, isolated areas," so I'm not really sure whether it's something specific to Cayman or there's an in-between inland stage that's not very well documented. Wikipedia also states, "Since tarpons are not commercially valuable as a food fish, very little has been documented concerning their geographical distribution and migrations."

I was informed of a pool where the young tarpon should be found, and started fishing there with a 10 cm. paddle-tail lure. I hadn't used anything similar before, and was impressed with the realistic action of the lure, and the success I had with it.

The youngest tarpon were quite easy to land, but once they started getting bigger - around the 40 cm. mark - they were very strong and would leap high in the air and consistently throw the lure.

I found that I had more success just winding them in as fast as possible when they got to this size - you couldn't play them, as they'd always jump and seldom stay on the hook.

I used that one lure for a long time. It lost the tail quite early on, and eventually was just a weighted hook with no 'body', which seemed to work even better than the proper lure did.

As they tarpon grew, they slowly moved out from the pool to the sea. I was fishing the pool a few times without hooking anything before I realised they must be on the move. It was then a matter of hunting around 'downstream' until I started getting hits on the lure again.

A Facebook 'memory' (where you're shown some old post from the past by Facebook and offered to share it again) reminded me of my time fishing for tarpon on Grand Cayman. It was from seven years ago to the day. I tried to locate the spot on Google Earth, but it appears a highway now runs through my old fishing pool.

Don't forget what you know

There were kahawai around, and they were curious, but I couldn't get one to grab my lure.

I was using the lure I normally use when targeting kahawai these days - a Blue Fox jigging lure. I like the look of them, the way the move in the water, and the fact that most people seem to use the tried-and-true hex lures for kahawai, so I assume that using something different will often give me the edge (one can always live in hope).

After fishing in the river mouth for a while, I shifted slightly more up-river, inside the mouth where it's a bit deeper, and was almost ready to call it a day when I remembered how I usually fish these lures (I tend to hibernate over winter and haven't been fishing much at all).

Back when I first discovered the lures, I found a jerky retrieve of three or so turns of the reel handle followed by a brief pause to let the lure drop seemed to yield the best results, with the kahawai often grabbing it during that pause.

Soon after changing my technique I hooked and landed a nice kahawai that ended up smoked and in a fish pie the next day.

Superstition

I wouldn't call myself superstitious, but I do often talk of luck in fishing, and I often ask someone fishing if they've had any luck.

Over summer I thanked Jim for a landing net he'd passed on to me, and told him of the trout I had landed with it. He said he was pleased that the net had proven lucky for me, as it had had for him in the past.

At least half-hearted superstition seems ingrained in most fishers. Denis Pain has a chapter titled 'Always Appease the River Gods,' in his book ... The Hours Spent in Fishing, where he tells of one season where he went against his usual rule of releasing the first trout of the season - keeping it to feed friends - and the bad luck that he had for the rest of the season.

A Dictionary of Superstitions, edited by Iona Opie and Moira Tatem, tells of some old beliefs using trout, including:

• Administer an ailing cow a live trout. (1852)
• Put a trout's head into the mouth of a child with whooping cough and let the trout breathe into the child's mouth. (1866)
• Put a live trout on the stomach of a child with worms as a cure. (1866)
• Bind a trout with bandages around the bowels of a child with worms and leave overnight as a cure. (1879 - The writer remembers this being done to a boy about seven years old, circa 1830)
• Let a trout swim in cow's milk and then drink the milk as an infallible cure for whooping cough. (1922)
• Take a pie dish full of cider to the River Rea and catch a decent sized trout and drown him in the cider. Fry the trout and make the patient eat the fish and drink the cider to cure whopping cough. (1932)

... and another cure for whooping cough - drink beer in which a live fish has been drowned. (1883)

The same book tells of cod fishermen believing that if a ling was the first fish pulled up after a boat has reached the fishing-ground it must be thrown overboard immediately to avoid bad luck (1886). During herring fishing, the scales of the fish must not be washed off the boat, neither must they be cleaned off the fishermen's sea-boots. If this is done good luck flees away (1885). The first hook baited is spit upon, and then laid in the scull (1886).

The Concise Maori Handbook, by A. W. Reed with A. E Brougham, informs us that the first fish caught with a new hook or line was dedicated to the ancestors of the fisherman, and that mauri were often used to help with the luck of a fishing voyage.

'Mauri' is essentially the life element of, for example, a forest or a lake, and assures the abundance of life abiding within. The name is also given to a talisman that represents the given life element. The talismen (often stones) were jealously guarded and secreted in a forest, near the banks of a river, and by the sea shore. If they were removed, the life principles departed and the food supplies could no longer be obtained.

I haven't had Jim's net with me for a while, and also haven't caught a fish for a while. I think I'll start taking his net out with me again and see what happens.

Monkey Bay Revisited... with surf

Continuing with the Monkey Bay theme, I popped over there yesterday to check out the massive surf that was coming in to Rarangi Beach.

From the lookout point you could see the waves pounding into Monkey Bay, so I walked down the track to have a closer look at the cave that runs through to the other side and opens out towards Whites Bay (I didn't go through the cave - the waves were coming all the way through to the entrance on this side).

The sound coming through the cave was deep and thunderous, so I tried to record it with a video on my phone.

I could see that the waves coming in to Monkey Bay had come right up and then down into the cave, but they seemed to stay at a safe distance after getting to the bottom of the track. Until I started recording some video.

Turns out the mic on my phone didn't pick up any of the bass sounds coming out of the cave anyway.