Constant companions

Touch of Grey's web diary
Tue 20 Dec 2016 20:30
Our constant companions on the Atlantic passage were flying fish.

In and around the Canaries we saw them only every hour or so and in ones and twos at that. By day five, south of the Tropic of Cancer, the sightings were more frequent, several every hour, with a dozen or so fish each time, and by mid Atlantic there was what can only be described as an abundance of the things . Towards Barbados, we also saw a different variety, smaller than the mid Atlantic ones, that went around in groups of 30 to 40.  (We did ponder the correct collective noun for flying fish and whether this changed from shoal to flock as they become airborne.)

As the boat bore down on them the fish would take to the air, scattering left and right, flying furiously for 20 to 50 metres before either turning downwind and gliding to a gentle landing on the water or being taken out less gracefully by a rising wave.

At night, the fish would occasionally misjudge their take off angle and the wind would lift them high into the air and back towards the boat - and sometimes onto it. At day break, we would often find one or two hapless fish in the cockpit or on the side decks.


And then Linda and I, on successive nights in the pitch dark, both had the slightly unnerving experience of being hit on the upper body by something wet, heavy and floppy before it fell to the floor between our legs where it would lie for a short while, momentarily stunned and no doubt thinking wtf happened there, before starting a futile attempt to become airborne again, bouncing around and flapping wildly against our bare ankles.

So, how did we treat our constant companions? Well, we ate them. To be precise, we ate three, one each as a pre-lunch starter. We had heard at one of the pre-rally seminars that we could expect to find flying fish on the deck most mornings and that they make an excellent breakfast dish. However, four or five are needed per person and that would require a lot of haplessness in one night. After cooking, the flesh is firm, flakes easily like haddock, and tastes delicious.


On arrival in Barbados we learned that flying fish are a local delicacy with cou-cou (cornmeal and okra) and flying fish being the national dish. The flying fish is also depicted on the one dollar coin. Many of the stalls in the Bridgetown fish market were selling flying fish in quantities that suggested to me that, rather than waiting for the fish to fly on board, nets were being used.

Unsurprisingly, we humans are not the only ones partial flying fish. One morning we had a gannet-like bird, probably a brown booby, with us for an hour or so, trying to take advantage of the fact that we were causing flying fish to take to the air. It was interesting to watch but we saw no evidence of success and assume the bird flew off to revert to the strategy for which it is designed - diving for fish.



Linda also encountered a recently consumed flying fish in the gut of one of the bluefin tuna we caught. No pictures of that thankfully.