Crusty Old Diver - That’s A Lot Of Fish, Eh?

I got the call from Captain Dave, and he n eeded a first-mate to crew a group of Canadians for an off-shore spearfishing charter. Matt, Cary, Jeff, and Majdi had driven 800 kilometers (500 miles) from Ontario, and their friend, Oleksiy, a dive shop owner from Buffalo, had also made the trip. As the sun broke over the water, they arrived at Ninigret Landing Marina and loaded their gear on the boat. We headed off the coast of Block Island to dive the reefs at fifty-five feet of water. The Canadians wouldn't be using SCUBA to spear their fish. Today they would be freediving with only a mask, fins, and a snorkel.

At the south end of the island, we found a pod of striped bass, and the divers got ready as I loaded their spearguns. We only sent two divers over the side as the boat traffic was heavy on a busy Saturday. Simultaneously Cary and Majdi dove as I watched their long fins disappear beneath the turbulent surface. As first mate, my main goal is to keep the divers safe by keeping other boats away and waiting for them to surface. Cary broke the surface, and I could see his gun floating behind him. He had a nice striped bass that was giving him a fight! A few seconds later, Majdi popped up, and I could see he had a big bass as well. We motored over to Cary, and I brought his fish on board. I removed the spear-shaft, cut the right pectoral fin, and placed it in the cooler. Majdi swam to the boat, and I was stoked to see he landed his first forty-pounder of the year!

While I dealt with Majdi's bass captain, Dave moved back into position over the school of fish below. I loaded more spearguns, and we sent the next three divers over the side. Oleksiy, Jeff, and Matt disappeared into the deep for a breath-taking 90-second dive. The divers breached the surface, with two of them landing their prized striped bass. "Those fish were deep, eh?" Jeff frustrated chuffs in his mild Canadian accent through his walrus mustache, "I keep missing them! When I get to the bottom, they are always behind me!" We all encourage him and motor back over the school. On his last deep dive, Jeff hauls up a beauty, and by 10:30 am, the Canadians had filled their quota for their first day of underwater hunting. They were all a bit tired f rom diving 50 to 60 feet all morning, so we headed towards the island for some easier diving.

We cruised across the belly of the island to Black Rock, a shallow reef lying at 25 feet of water. The current was slack, so we opted to anchor the boat in place. The divers all went over the side, and I stayed on board and started the rigors of filleting the cooler full of fish. The Canadians were very specific on how they each wanted their fish prepared. Jeff and Majdi wanted their fish bled, gutted, and the gills removed. Oleksiy would have his fish filleted and any fish eggs saved. He would also take home the heads and the spines to make soup and tacos. Cary wanted the collars removed from his bass, and Matt was happy with just the fillets. It was a lot of extra work, but I was pleased that the Canadians used portions of the fish that are usually discarded. As I filleted, the divers continued to swim to the boat and drop off more and more fish. I spent hours at the fillet table preparing the Canadians their fish. This would be their last hurrah for this season's saltwater fishing and was an essential trip as their catches would feed them through the cold Ontario winter.

After cleaning up the boat, I decided to splash and harvest a few fish for dinner. I dropped down twentyfive feet and looked under an enormous boulder where four massive black seabass hovered. It took me seven dives, but I was able to land all four fish. Seabass is my favorite indigenous fish with flaky white fillets. We all swam back to the boat, and I was amazed at the harvest from the end of the day. Jeff landed an almaco jack, and Majdi speared a massive 15-pound bluefish. The other divers had stringers full of blackfish, scup, trigger, and seabass. As we pulled anchor and motored home, I filleted the rest of the Canadians fish. Back at the dock, I helped them wrestle their packed coolers into their cars and bid them farewell. Who knew our super friendly neighbors to the north were straight-up fish killers?! For more information on spearfishing in New England, please visit spearfishcharters.com