Attitude Adjustment in Abaco 2001 Part 11

Attitude Adjustment in Abaco 2001 Part 11
Dr.Ralph <rbundy@cfl.rr.com> -- on Wednesday 8/15/01 @ 4:37 p.m. EST

Wednesday, July 18
What would constitute perfect weather in Abaco? In my mind, I see 85 degrees, a light breeze from the SE, a few fluffy cumulus clouds, water temp maybe 82, and a gentle swell on the ocean. I ponder this at 7:30 from my perch on Seaspray's beach overlook as I gaze over a glassed-off Atlantic. In all the years we've been travelling through the Caribbean, we've never had a "perfect day" like the one I am fantasizing about. Today will be close, but there will be one glaring difference: the heat will be brutal. It's already 80, and without a breeze, we will cook. Still air prompts another concern: it sometimes signals a transition. The prevailing weather system may be dissipating; the next one may be evolving. I wonder if Barometer Bob has the scoop?

He does indeed: the high that has stabilized our weather for the past few days is projected to drift NE; a low is beginning to form in the Gulf of Mexico. This will slowly drift west over the next few days, but will probably not significantly affect Abaco. It does, however, have an important implication for us: by Saturday afternoon the weather in South Florida and the Gulf Stream is expected to deteriorate. Bob recommends that anyone contemplating a Gulf Stream crossing in the near future have it completed by mid-day Saturday.

I present this to Bunny at breakfast. Our current plan is to spend today and Thursday in Abaco, run to West End on Friday, and cross to Florida on Saturday. That's cutting it close. After battling our career-worst squall on the eastward crossing, neither of us wants to temp the whim of the weather gods again. I offer Bunny the option of departing one day earlier than we had planned. She frowns; after the initial week of wind and rain we are really enjoying the sunshine and relatively calm seas, heat not withstanding, and she isn't anxious to leave. We decide to postpone the decision until tomorrow morning. If Bob's report suggests a worsening weather scenario for our crossing, then we'll go ahead and leave. Otherwise, we'll stick to our original itinerary, giving us today and tomorrow to play.

That settled, we discuss the day's plan. Bunny wants to go after big grouper, and it seems like a good day to do it. Years ago I read two articles in successive Florida Sportsman magazines that dealt with trolling large diving plugs for grouper. Each author, one fishing off Islamorada and one at Walker's Cay, described great success dragging plugs such as Rapala Magnums and Mann's Stretch 25s just off the barrier reef in 30-50 feet of water. We have modified their techniques to suit our situation and tackle, and have had good success catching grouper and mutton snapper trolling along the reef north of Guana and Man-O-War. I like the newer Mann's Stretch 35. This monstrous plug is almost a foot long, and has an oversized clear plastic lip and two 4X treble hooks. Because cudas love these as much as grouper, I crimp 2 feet of 100-lb multi-strand stainless steel cable to the ring on the plug's lip. I tie this to 10 feet of 100-lb mono leader with an Albright knot. We use bright yellow 30-pound Suffex mono on Shimano TLD 25 reels that are mounted on 6-foot Penn standup rods. I set the drags for about 20 pounds, sometimes even more, so we can horse the bigger fish out of the rocks. When it's just Bunny and I we troll two plugs, one short at 75 feet and one long at 150; we leave the clickers on and stay under five knots. The key is to find the right depth: ideally we troll in 40 feet of water with numerous heads coming up to 25 feet. The plugs can get as deep as 20 feet, so we try to stay away from the shallower heads. The terrain off MOW and farther NW is ideal.

From White Sound Mark we run NNW toward the southern tip of MOW, detouring to avoid the shoals that extend west from Johnny's Cay. As we pass South Rock I slow to 6 knots and climb into the tower. South MOW Channel is a little tricky: it isn't broad or straight like Loggerhead or North Bar; Steve Dodge doesn't provide a cookbook GPS route. I steer 40 degrees for about a half-mile until the reefs to port give way to deeper water. I then veer due north for 400 yards or so until I am close to the breaking reefs on the NW side of the channel, and finally resume 40 degrees through the gap in the barrier reef. I see boats run through here at 25 knots: they are either stupid or experienced. I have run SMOW Channel maybe 6-8 times, and I still do it at 6 knots; there is potential here for disaster, why push it?

Once we clear the reefline we turn WNW and set up our gear. This takes all of ten minutes, and then we settle in; Bunny lounges in the shade with a book, facing aft on the port settee, and I pace the cockpit. The light SE breeze is deflected by the landmass of MOW, the air is moist and still. The sun is relentless, it bakes me as a broiler would the grouper filets we hope to take. Within 20 minutes I consume two 20-ounce bottles of water, but it's not helping. Next I turn on the fresh water washdown, yet the water is too warm to provide any relief; it doesn't dawn on me until later that I had turned on the red faucet (hot water). Such things happen when you're getting goofy from the heat. Now I'm pointlessly meandering around the cockpit, restless, irritable, complaining about odd little nothings. Bunny picks up on it, "You're getting wierd from the heat, do you need to get in the water?" I hate to stop fishing, but she is right, I've got to do something. I pull a third water bottle from the fridge and pour small amounts over my head and shoulders. Against my hot skin the cold is a shock, but it works, and in a few moments I'm feeling better. I fill the bottle with cool water from the sink and continue drip it over my back.

Time to shoot a little video; we are now off the north end of MOW, and I frame a nice shot of Bunny against the reef and the shoreline. We shoot as much video as possible while we are fishing, especially when we are bringing fish onboard. This can be problematic when there are only two of us, as there is no one to hold the camera. Our solution: I keep a wide angle lens on the camcorder, and when we connect I turn it on, then set it on a towel on the icemaker facing the center of the cockpit. This works well as long as we remember not to stand in front of it; through the years we've come home from some great fishing trips with wonderful shots of someone's butt! Now, as I take a breath after some narration, the clicker on the long line explodes; we've got a fish! Bunny is first up, so she puts on the heavy fighting belt while I work the rod out of the holder. I hand off to her, she seats the rod butt into the pivoting gimbal, and starts to work the fish with strong, confident strokes of the rod. I clear the other line, then put on heavy gloves and wait while she horses in the fish. At about 25 feet I see a nice dark shadow, and in a moment I have the leader secured. It's a big black grouper, both treble hooks well buried, so I simply heave him over the gunnel into the cockpit. He's a brute, 12 pounds on our scale. We're elated.

I'm up next, and the hit comes after about a half-hour. As I work my fish it jumps, 50 feet behind the boat. That is bad news: the only jumper that lives in this neighborhood is a fish I really don't like to deal with, and a moment later at boatside I can clearly see your basic 3-foot reef cuda. Now, I don't want to eat this fish, I don't want to bring him in the boat, and I don't want to kill him. Over time I have devised a strategy to safely release cudas with at least some prospect of their survival. I lift his head out of the water, then gently slip the hook of the gaff under his operculum (gill cover), avoiding the fragile maroon gill rakers, until the point is well up into his mouth and the curve of the gaff can support his weight. I then use a heavy curved pliers to work the hook out, finally lowering him into the water, where he vigorously swims away. There is obviously some blood, and I may be fooling myself by thinking that he'll survive, but we have made the effort.

Bunny's next hit comes off Scotland Cay: this one is a gorgeous yellowfin grouper, about six pounds. We get no more hits, and by the time we reach the north point of Guana we're ready to cool off. Also, we need ice for the fish. When we catch our first fish of the day I fill the box with seawater, and often the fish will stay alive for 2-3 hours. But these are relatively large fish, and in this heat they have just about stopped moving. We decide to pull into Guana settlement. As I climb into the tower I ponder two possible routes: the easy one is the longest, NW around the reef and through Loggerhead Channel. Or I can pick my way through the heads, slide between Gumelemi and Guana, and then SE through Baker's Bay. Visibility is excellent, sea conditions are perfect, so I opt for Plan B. It's slow going: there are numerous heads, many which come right up to the surface; in addition, there are lots of boats and many snorkelers. But the greens and blues are dazzling in the afternoon sun, and soon we are passing Gumelemi. After traversing the shallows to the SE, we throttle up to 25 knots and make the scenic run along Guana's southwest shore.

As we enter Guana Harbour we are hailed on the radio. It's Skipzee, a.k.a. Ed Zorn; he and his family are in a center console just behind us. They tie up at the government dock while we receive permission to tie up in a slip at the Resort Dock. The people at Guana Resort never really restored their docks after the hurricane; there are no utilities that we can see, and there is only one other boat tied up there. Orchid Bay, with its sheltered marina, seems to have taken that business. Ed walks out on the dock and greets us, it's great to bump into another Board member. Of course we show off our groupers, and we pass a few minutes talking about fishing and the other adventures we have had. Ed is staying in a house on the waterfront, his family is having a great time, they love Guana.

We change clothes and walk up to the liquor store at the base of Nipper's dock where we buy two bags of ice to put on the fish. We then walk up to Nipper's for lunch and a cold drink. We enjoy Nipper's, but we prefer a relatively quiet afternoon or early evening to the chaos of the Sunday pig roast. Today there are perhaps fifty people on the deck, and a nice little breeze cools us off. Bunny has fried mahi and I have Johnny's famous coconut conch and a Nipper on the rocks. Just one, thanks, I have a history on this island! We drop $100 in the gift shop, then work our way back to the boat. We want to eat at the Harbour's Edge in Hopetown tonight, and we've arranged for a van at 7:15, so we have to get back to Seaspray.

We tie up at our slip at 4:30 and adjourn to the pool for a few moments to cool off. During previous trips I have made a practice of cruising the bar with a bucket full of big grouper on ice. In addition to the obvious glory (and Bunny's dismay), this also frequently generates a couple of free drinks. But today the bar is deserted; maybe it's just a little early. As I carve our grouper I throw the remains and finally the head and skeleton into a frenzy of dock snapper. While I start on the second I feel a gentle tapping on my shoulder; it's Seaspray's cook, a middle-aged Haitian lady. She speaks minimal English, but through pointing and sign language she indicates that she would like the carcass; she has even brought a box for it. We're happy to oblige; Bunny thinks she's going to make some kind of stock for soup. Later, Bunny bags our filets and stores them in our little freezer compartment. We shower and put on "real clothes" for the first time since the party at Gary's condo, then wait at the base of the dock for our ride. At 7:15 Junior comes out of the marina office and fires up the Seaspray van; his driver is a no-show, so he has to do the honors. Bunny asks Junior if he ever gets to go home, and he cheerfully responds that things will slow down for him in the next few weeks. He thanks us again for the bromeliad, relates how much his wife likes it, and then proudly drives us by his new house. We are so pleased for him, he has worked a long time for this.

We love eating at the Harbour's Edge. Our hostess shows us to the last available table out on the dock, and we spend a delightful two hours sipping rum, eating Grouper Almondine, and swatting noseeums (they really aren't that bad). The evening glow from the sun silhouettes the lighthouse, and later the few clouds disperse as darkness gently reveals a jillion stars that dance brightly in the clear tropical sky. Small groups dinghy in from their moored boats, and laughter dances across the water from the lighthouse side. Junior meets us at the government dock at 9:30 and takes us back to Seaspray. The bar has closed, the air is still, it is so quiet! We dreamily walk down the dock to where Attitude lies limply against her lines. Maybe we have found perfection in Abaco, after all.

Yet far to the west the weather gods are simmering their turbulent brew; but they must be subtle, lest they betray themselves to the satellites and sensors that relentlessly probe their secrets...

pics:
upper: blackfin grouper, 12 lbs
middle: yellowfin grouper, 6 lbs
bottom: Bunny and her trophies at the fish-cleaning table

Re: Attitude Adjustment in Abaco 2001 Part 11
Debbie Dames <deborahdames@hotmail.com> -- on Wednesday 8/15/01 @ 9:56 p.m. EST

I am truly enjoying your trip reports. You have a great style of writing.

However, Doctor, I am prompted to respond to this trip report. My heart fell to the ground when you said that you threw the grouper head to the snapper. Bunny was right. That's what you make boiled fish from and grouper head is the best.

Since grouper head scales are too tiny to clean with a regular fish scaler, below is an easy recipe:

Boil some water is a large pot with the head for about 5 minutes. Throw the water and let the head cool enough to handle. Then pull off the thick skin (along with the scales as they don't taste too good). Discard the gills and anything else that 'just doesn't look good to eat'.

Then with a fresh pot of water, put the head back in with some onions, celery, cubed potatoes, salt & pepper to taste. Squeeze juice from a lime and let it boil until the meat is cooked. About 30 minutes. Serve over cooked grits. Great for breakfast with some fresh baked bread and butter.

Thanks again for taking us along on your remarkable journey.

Debbie Dames

Hmm, might have to try that...
Dr.Ralph <rbundy@cfl.rr.com> -- on Thursday 8/16/01 @ 7:55 a.m. EST

Let me know how you like it
Debbie Dames <deborahdames@hotmail.com> -- on Thursday 8/16/01 @ 10:27 a.m. EST

Re: Attitude Adjustment in Abaco 2001 Part 11
Bigfoot <rickh@sprintnw.com> -- on Thursday 8/16/01 @ 10:43 a.m. EST

As I read this I was transported right back to the coolest place I've ever been. Thanks and I can hardly wait for the rest.

Rick

Re: Attitude Adjustment in Abaco 2001 Part 11
Rustle Crow <edkelly@mediaone.net> -- on Sunday 8/19/01 @ 10:54 p.m. EST

That first grouper is not a black grouper. As far as I can tell it's a tiger grouper. My fish ID books say that the adults develop "broomtails" - those trailing tags on the tail and ventral fins. I don't remember ever seeing one before. Nice fish.

Ed