Utila – Week 2, Day 4: The Lionfish Hunt
UTILA
Week 2
Day 4: The Lionfish Hunt
November 23, 2022
PART I
Oh boy… Let’s just say the word ‘hungover‘ doesn’t even begin to describe how I woke up after partying so hard the previous day… I was this close to telling Catherine I was too sick to go lionfish hunting.
The reasons why I shouldn’t dive in such a state kept piling up, like credits after a blockbuster. Seriously, they just wouldn’t stop multiplying: vomiting under water, vomiting at the surface, dragging the rest of the group down, being too hungover to enjoy the dive, risking a lionfish sting – and, worst of all, decompression sickness. But then I thought of the fallout. Even if I told her I was sick, she’d probably sniff me out anyway – the stench of alcohol practically emanating out of my pores. It wouldn’t really inspire much confidence in someone who just joined the team.
And so, I sucked it up. I stumbled to the equipment shed all tremulous and full of regrets, helped with set-up, then polished off a triple espresso and a sandwich. By the time Catherine finished briefing us, the caffeine and the excitement kicked in and I was ready. I could already imagine coming back with a huge catch – the fish making for a nice lunch!
Let the Hunt Begin!
We climbed aboard and headed to our first dive site, Big Bight. Spears in hand and all hyped up, we plunged in. Beneath us was a flat coral floor, every crevice screaming lionfish. The dive briefing had assigned us positions and depths based on air use and skill, but as soon as we hit bottom? All hell broke loose – it was pure and utter chaos. Everyone darted around like mid-season piranhas.
It was quite the contrast to the diving I was used to – the kind where time slows down, everyone moves sluggishly, kicking their fins in a relaxing wave, the rest of the body unmoving. But this? This was pure hunting. Fast, frenzied, and friggin fun. I dropped thoughts of position and dove in, staying close but focused on spotting prey. At 30 metres of depth, air burns fast, and moving this quick meant time was our enemy.
After some ten minutes of uneventful swimming, we could hear someone tapping on their tanks with the spear. It was Catherine who had spotted two of them lying right next to each other. As the instructor, she’d be demonstrating the first catch. Second would be Ido, a client, and then us. It was quite something seeing Catherine as she neared the helpless creature, pointing the spear less than a foot away from its head before lending the fatal shot in one strike. It didn’t even have enough time to wriggle or struggle, it just laid motionless the second the spear pierced its head. Then, with one quick motion, she stuffed the fish inside the zookeeper and that was that.
Now it was time for the second one. With Catherine standing by the side, Ido approached the now lonely fish who stood unmoving (despite its partner being murdered in cold blood), loaded the spear, and then… BAM! Right into the coral, effectively ruining years’ worth of growth and our chances of dining on a second fish in one fell swoop. With Ido hitting low air, we wrapped it up early and headed back.
Sea Mount Showdown
Next stop: Sea Mount – prime lionfish territory. Catherine split us into two teams of four, boosting our odds. I joined David’s team – a divemaster from Israel who’d been here a few months – along with Ido and Ahinoam – another divemaster trainee from Israel.
My heart pounded as we suited up, the adrenaline rush almost more than I could bear. Down we went, and the hunt began. I swear I could only saw red – driven by bloodlust and the impulse to kill (perhaps I need to a therapist about that…). The idea of hunting always seemed foreign and tasteless to me prior to this experience, but suddenly, being in this position, I felt bloodthirsty and murderous – under the false pretense that I’d also be saving the environment.
I spotted one under a coral ridge. My first impulse? Pull the trigger. But I paused, banged on my tank, and signaled the group. Ido was closest but freaked out the lionfish by stirring up sediment. It bolted. When David caught up, I had to show him the “I don’t know” symbol, with an idiotic look on my face. We kept trying, but time and air ran out.
I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, I was pissed. Mostly cause I had found one and had my opportunity taken away from me. Not to mention, for lunch we’d be splitting the two fish Catherine had caught between eight people. Turns out I’d still have to pay for dinner after all!
Filet Drill & Eel Feast
As soon as we got back, Catherine sat us down and showed us how to fillet the lionfish. First off, she started by cutting off all the fins and the tail, and then flipped the entire thing over, pierced the creature’s belly and cut the breastplate with some heavy-duty scissors before proceeding to pull out all its innards. Then she made an incision at the top of its back and around the gills, pulled off the skin and cut straight through the middle over the backbone with the knife to get the prized fillet – out of which she’d be making her famous lionfish ceviche.
She then threw the carcass into the sea by the dock, at which point two huge moray eels appeared and devoured the remains. They were the hugest moray eels I’d ever seen, I swear. The mean-looking, green serpent fish looked exactly Ursula’s evil minions in The Little Mermaid.
PART II
Dockside Dressing-Down
After we stowed away the equipment and had lunch, David asked to speak to me privately. Given that he had been dating a French girl who lived on the island, I knew this wasn’t gonna be a steamy encounter. In fact, I braced myself expecting some sort of feedback on my diving.
Turns out, I was right. “You did so many stupid things,” he said. “You swam off, and dove too deep. Do you know how dangerous that is? I can’t come rescue you if something happens at that depth!” Admittedly, I was stunned. I knew I had drifted away from the rest of the group on a couple of occasions and he had to bang on his tank to draw my attention. I also did realise I went too deep a few times too, but, without a dive computer I couldn’t really tell how deep I was.
I genuinely had no idea it had gone so bad. In fact, throughout most of the dive, I had been thinking Ido was the one ruining it! Looking back, he was 100% right of course, and I had no excuse and just apologies. His tone was harsh, but I appreciated his candour – he was looking out for me after all. That said, I can’t say it didn’t get to me. I felt dejected – though at the same time, I wanted to do better.
Skills Circuit 2.0
With half a heart to cancel, I made my way to the confined skills circuit with Fleur. I was sharper this time: signalled like a pro, gestured big for the audience, and flew through most skills. In fact, I was sure I’d pass my test the following morning.
Until I got to the last one – a skill I just couldn’t quite perform for some reason. Disconnecting the LPI from the BCD – a basic skill that I had been doing effortlessly since I did my Open Water course. No matter how much I tried, I kept fumbling. After showing me how to do it multiple times, she then scribbled “Push and wiggle!” on her slate and then took me up to the surface when she saw I wasn’t getting it – my fingertips scraped raw by this point.
“Marius, I’m a very patient person, but you’re not listening to me!” she goes, in a very inpatient tone. I knew the concept, I understood what I had to do, I just couldn’t friggin’ do it and she just didn’t seem to understand how frustrated I was feeling. After all that had happened during the day, I simply had no energy to argue and justify myself. Eventually she let me try it on her gear, and it proved to be surprisingly easy – meaning it had been the friggin’ BCD all along.
Crisis Point: Is This Worth It?
To add fire to the flame, Amelia and I came back to find a new roommate, Matt, a 60-year-old Swede that came to do his instructor training. While he seemed like a decent guy, Amelia and I had gotten kinda used to being alone. Now, we’d have to get used to another guy who could potentially change the entire dynamic of the room.
Everything seemed to be going downhill and I felt myself spiralling. I was on holiday, right? Shouldn’t I be happy? I was miserable and suddenly, it all felt too much. I mean yeah, sure, I was working towards a particular goal and I was incentivised by the fact that I’d learn how to be a scuba pro and have another cool title to add to my name, but it didn’t feel like it was worth the hassle at that point. Worst of all, I didn’t think I had what it takes. Maybe this should just be a hobby?
I couldn’t quite picture myself developing a good enough technique that would allow me to become an actual divemaster. I had buoyancy issues, I had no concept of spatial awareness, my sense of direction was inexistent, not to mention there’d be a thousand other things I’d have to learn, say how to manage a boat and how to lead dives. I set myself an ultimatum: get through the next skills session, then reassess.
Stay wild,
Marius
Post-Scriptum
Lionfish ceviche and brownies from Carolina’s did kinda alleviate my low mood and make me feel a bit better, I do have to admit that.