Vanuatu

Vanuatu John Anderson

Late winter diving being what it is, a trip is just what the doctor ordered: water temperatures in the mid twenties and visibility exceeding 30 metres will put paid to even the most stubborn case of the winter blues.

We arrived in Port Vila a couple of days before the full moon, a time traditionally felt to be poor for spear fishing but the heady mix of tropical air and the local tusker beer that the hostess’ on our flight over had plied us liberally with, soon had us enthusiastically scrambling to be first into the murky harbour water that bordered the Nautilus Dive Centre, which was to be our home for the next eight days.

There are a lot of differences between the sport of spear fishing and the sport of scuba diving and if our hosts hadn’t realized that up to this point, they were getting a vivid illustration of it now.

Some of our party even insisted on carting their guns in with them, a tad optimistic given the two metres of visibility.

Still, it was good to get wet and once we satisfied ourselves that ‘The Wharf’ was not to be one of spear fishing’s great locations, we plodded back up the hill to our accommodation where to our delight we discovered complimentary tuskers in the fridge and to our dismay that our only underwater camera had flooded and despite our best efforts to save it ie: cooking it in a frying pan to drive out the moisture (???), we had to admit defeat. We consoled ourselves by drinking our way through the fridge.

Early next morning, slightly the worse for wear, we acquainted ourselves with our dive vessel, Scuba Blue, which aside from it’s name was about as suitable as a spear fishing boat could be, with covered decks and easy access from sea level and most importantly and to our eternal gratitude, an impressively stocked larder which, try as we might (and did) we could not empty.

Port Vila, the capital of , sits in the mouth of a great bay known as Mele Bay, the two headlands which define it’s borders being Devils Point and Pango Point. Our destination on our first day out was to be the western point- Devils.

We had been fortunate in obtaining some pointers from legendary Kiwi diver Steve Crabtree as to where to dive, which is very handy when diving any new locations but although it came highly recommended, we found Devils to be pretty quiet and while this was probably just due to lack of current or some other variable, we didn’t really have the time to allow this spot to realize it’s potential. Still though, magic to be diving in warm water with great visibility and we spent the day adjusting to the clean water and the range problems it creates. Fish look closer in the tropics, the clean water deceiving you into shooting far too early with the resulting shot sailing harmlessly under the intended target. It is infuriating until your mind adjusts and was a problem that occurred intermittently throughout our trip, leading to some heartbreaking or hilarious moments, depending on whether you were the diver taking the shot or a member of the hysterical audience drifting above.

Eventually, I wrote the day off to experience and happily watched the smaller reef inhabitants going about their daily business, awed by the sheer variety and beauty of the species inhabiting the coral reefs

Early next morning, having decided to hit the F.A.Ds, we piled aboard along with James K, a well-known kiwi diver who was up crewing a yacht.

We divided ourselves into two groups, the second allowing the first about 20 minutes on the F.A.D before slipping into the clear blue water for their chance. I had noticed one of the divers in the first group had separated from his party so when we got our chance, I swam over to him to see what was going on. As I approached I could see he was struggling with a large bull mahi mahi, which he quickly dispatched when I offered him my gun. After much whooping and congratulations, a now very happy James swam his prize back to the boat where the rest of the first party waited, green eyed with envy.

With the F.A.D producing nothing more, we moved back inshore to the reef to try for dogtooth tuna, one of tropical spear fishing’s most prized species.

The tactic generally employed on the reef drop offs goes something like this; one diver will constantly work the teaser, creating flashes of light and noise which would draw in any curious surface predators while a second diver, up current of the others, will keep a constant flow of burley drifting back in order to keep the game fish interested once they catch on to the teasers deception and also to draw any naturally deep species such as  doggies up into divable depths. The remaining divers take turns diving on the teaser.  Naturally enough, given the amount of food in the water, anywhere up to a dozen sharks of various species will gather and depending on individual personalities and the amount of burley being dispensed, behaviors can range from very courteous to fairly aggressive. The burley man, being the source of all the fish blood/flesh in the water and being isolated up current from the others is in for the most attention so, ideally, you do your best to con someone else into this job.

 While it all sounds very dramatic, and makes for a great story to impress the ladies with, for the most part the sharks we encountered behaved impeccably, with the exception of a couple of big hammerheads which calmly relieved the burley man of his burden (and his composure) before lumbering back down to whence they came.

Our first dive was on a reef with bommies climbing to within ten metres of the surface separated by deeper sandy guts of around thirty - forty metres in depth. Barely a minute into our regime and with the teaser still being lowered to the desired depth, a twenty kilogram dogtooth cruised slowly up to it and offered a basic shot, which I happily took. In a flash he was off with me in tow and it took some minutes before he tired enough for me to slip a hand in his gills and administer the coup de grace, a swift dagger stab to the brain. The fish was quickly offloaded into the tender in case of possible shark interest. Dogtooth tuna have a reputation of being notoriously difficult to spear but thankfully, the doggies obviously hadn’t read the handbook, as they would cruise boldly up from the depths, showing little reaction to the divers presence until they found themselves unwilling recipients of some rather crude body piercing. For the most part they were fairly small fish around fifteen kilos but for divers who up to this time had only read stories and heard tales of these powerful predators, the chance to shoot a doggie of any size was seized upon and by the end of the day, two or three of us had realized our dream of landing a dogtooth tuna.

This day set the pattern for our trip; spending the morning at the F.A.Ds and the afternoon on the coral bommies and drop offs, chasing doggies and the occasional wahoo.

The wahoo were to be found wide of the reef drop-off and only when the current pushed us wide also would we run into them- fish of ten to twenty kilos but we never did manage to land one. Their being laterally compressed made them hard targets, which together with our aiming issues and nerves conspired to rob us of every chance that was offered.

A regular fixture on many of our dive trips is Jessica, who at 17 is one of the younger divers around and one of an increasing number of women in the sport. We treat her much as we would any other spearo, somewhat harsh perhaps given her age and sex but the upshot of this being that she sees herself as no more in need of preferential treatment than anyone else - a valued trait in any dive partner.

On our third day out, late in the day, a doggie cruised into the teaser. On the surface, those watching hurriedly breathed up in preparation for the dive to get the chance on this fish (first to descend has first dibs on the fish; the others will abort their dive) but unbeknownst to us, another diver had already slipped silently beneath the surface. Out of the corner of our vision swam Jess, finning strongly down. We all inhaled and held our collective breaths in anticipation. She was charging directly down on the fish and would surely spook it with her aggressive movements but we had underestimated her; she had learnt her lessons well.  At ten metres she abruptly ceased finning and began the agonizingly slow and motionless descent on a path intersecting that of the slowly departing tuna. Twelve, fourteen, sixteen metres and still she descended, as slowly the distance between the two opponents decreased. Finally, in an almost imperceptible, smooth movement, her gun was brought to bear, and after what seemed an eternity, she squeezed the trigger. Even on the surface twenty metres above we heard the shaft hit home, saw the fish explode off into the depths. Jess hauled hard on the gear to stop the fish making the bottom and busting off and to her credit was able to curtail that critical first run. Five metres from the surface she was able to release her hold on the bungee and make to the surface for a much-needed breath

“I’ve shot one,” she screamed breathlessly, as if the fact was lost on us “What do I do now?”

“Head for deep water!” came the reply

So she did, with attendant ‘mentors’ busily giving conflicting advice on how to handle the fish. Our biggest fear was that the fish would tear free. For her to have come so close to landing such a prize after years of effort would be heartbreaking. But we needn’t have worried as her shot was good and after a prolonged battle with the advantage changing numerous times (the fish hadn’t the least difficulty dragging her slight frame under), the big fish was finally in her grasp.

Later, back on board and homeward bound, Jess exercised every fisherman’s fundamental right to brag, replaying the events of her capture to an attentive audience; basking in the glory of her capture. Her dad sat quietly in the corner, his face showing pride mixed with just a hint of jealousy. He was yet to land a fish.

Our last day was spent at Pango Point, Mele Bays’ eastern boundary. We only gave it half a day, as having dived the last five days straight we were beginning to struggle. That morning I sighted numerous dogtooth up to 40kg as well as giant trevally and others spotted wahoo. There seemed to be more sharks in this area, which is often a sign of greater pelagic activity. It’s a shame we discovered it so late in our trip though, rather brilliantly, it gives us a reason to go back!