St. Helena to the Caribbean - Day 6
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Fri 18 Jan 2013 13:46
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08:05.334S 18:36.144W
January 18, 2013
A fish!
A big-ass, 35 pound king mackerel. Imagine its surprise
when it bit into the fake white plastic squid with its rows of tiny
deadly-looking pointed teeth only to find a nasty double-headed heavy-duty
hook inside. Our fish book informs us king mackerels average 10 pounds in
weight, but can grow to a maximum of 100. Thirty five pounds was
enough. When first caught, the mackerel almost pulled the
fishing rod out of its holder (it's good Don always secures the rod to the
lifelines with an extra rope tie). The resulting hubbub woke Don from his
afternoon nap, and after scrambling on deck in little more than his
undies, he spent the next fifteen minutes or so wrestling with the fishing rod
bent nearly double, pulling the fish in while we sailed along at 6
knots. The fish was so big, I had to get hold of it with
the gaff (not a task for the squeamish, which I am) before Don could set the rod
down and finish bringing the fish up on deck with the gaff. Once
landed, the process of identification began. I flipped through the fish
book comparing the pictures to our catch lying stunned on the deck and yelled
out fish names to Don. With its teeth and slim body, we thought
barracuda at first, but its fins and coloring weren't quite right.
Blue marlin was the next guess (the fish was a beautiful royal blue), but
the distinctive sword-like beak was missing. We settled on king
mackerel, and after reading the full text in the book (which included a
note about some mackerel being ciguatoxic, but didn't specify which ocean), and
looking closely at the two large, perfectly round open sores on the sides of the
fish (left by a parasitic sucker fish), we decided maybe the king mackerel
wasn't for us. Don carefully removed the hooks from its tooth-filled
mouth, and heaved it overboard. We are not sure if the fish survived
the trauma (in fact, we're pretty sure it didn't), but as Don
says, somebody down there got a good meal. Thinking about it in this
way is helping to assuage the guilt.
The fishing pole is out again today with high hopes
for a mahi-mahi or tuna. If we catch anything at all, it's likely to
happen ten minutes into Don's afternoon nap.
All else is well as we continue to sail at something
over 6 knots in 10 to 20 knots of wind from the southeast. We are
pleased with our consistent 150-miles-per-day progress, and have no
complaints about day after day of blue. Blue above, blue below, blue
360 degrees around. It's good blue is our favorite
color. Without the GPS to tell us we are moving and making
progress, the never-changing scenery might convince us otherwise. We could
be stuck in a giant blue bubble or on some fantastic water treadmill for all we
know. We haven't seen another boat or ship in days, so who's to say we
haven't sailed off into some blue yonder that doesn't exist on any chart?
It's possible, since the electronic charts we have for this area have no detail
at all. Of course, the paper chart says we are sailing in
water three or four thousand meters deep, so it's not like we have to worry
about going aground, but the lack of detail on the electronic chart does add to
the lost-at-sea ambiance. If truly being lost at sea is like this, I
think we could handle it. At least for a little while. As long
as the next fish is a mahi-mahi or tuna.
6 days down, slightly less than the equivalent of a giant
Pacific passage to go.
Anne
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