16 February 2011

Spearfishing Bahamas

Do you kill fish? I do: on the water and under it. I prefer the latter. Last time I went spearfishing in the Bahamas was in 2006. My family owns a house at Harbour Island. We stayed in the centre of town. There were three of us in a boat, searching the coral heads off Man Island across the bay from Dunmore Town, exploring clear water about 20' deep. When we spotted a coral formation or pile of rocks, we stopped, put on our fins, and dropped in. At one location we watched a shark estimated at 10-12' glide languidly under our boat. We used Hawaiian slings, the most primitive of spearguns, to hunt grouper among the crevices and ledges. Sometimes a lone barracuda would suddenly arrive on the scene like a silver torpedo and then hang back to check us out. After a few hours we returned to town. The small harbour near Elle Macphersons's place and the J.Crew estate teemed with bull shark pups. Driving back to the house in a golf cart--for that is the main method of transportation on Harbour Island--we passed black schoolgirls walking along the road and occasionally they would lift their skirt to reveal for us an inviting bare bottom like a ripe plum. For dinner we went to one of the posh restaurants along the bay, downing too many cocktails in the red bar, and then afterwards settling in one of the small dance clubs where the grinning American women said "You clean up really nice!" as they rubbed against me on the dance floor. European tourists, American jet-setters, English public schoolboys, and hot girls mingled in a mesh of drunkenness and erotic play to island rhythms house-style. After midnight we stopped by a roadside shack for some chicken and smoked too much weed at the house of a prominent family from Wisconsin, ending up flat out on the front lawn staring up at the stars and wondering what the fuck am I doing here just put me to bed.

5 comments:

Tabitha said...

Weed, hard licquor and chicken, ah the good old days, is my invite in the post?

Main Line Sportsman said...

Sounds like my nkinda day

Thomas said...

Your use of time and words might do Hemingway proud. Having spent some of my childhood in Barbados, your tales of tails have me itching for a return.

Ford said...

I'm still laying in that proverbial grass wondering what the fuck I'm doing here.

Derek Warren said...

Reminds me of Danny Boyle's "The Beach" less the patchouli and cargo shorts.