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    Through a Guide's Eye
    Through a Guide's Eye
    Through a Guide's Eye
    Ebook175 pages2 hours

    Through a Guide's Eye

    By James Docky Smith

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    About this ebook

    It is hoped that the reader will enjoy comparing his own skills and experiences with those described within. He will be at liberty to pick out any of the many covered topics at will, at one time or another, not having to read from beginning to the end at one time. Topics coveredin a pleasantly casual style, as though you are out there yourselfrange from all bonefish things material to actual fishing events and to the fishing industry's abstracts (for example, the environments fishing regulation). Additional amusement may be found in some of the author's stories about earlier island lifehis own and that of two family generations back in time.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherXlibris US
    Release dateAug 25, 2017
    ISBN9781543442984
    Through a Guide's Eye
    Author

    James Docky Smith

    The writer of this little book is one of the most sought-after and almost daily-active bone fish guides of the Bahamas, having started in the mid-nineties. To insure top quality of his services, he limits his bone fish actions to the use of just two boats, and just one other guide. He also owns his own sport fishing boutique, complete with a cabana bar & grill, and offers high quality programs of reef & deep sea fishing, as well as of eco boat cruises. He has been living on Long Island since birth, married a second-generation member of the Stella Maris Resort family group in 1994, and their two children are presently – 2017 – enrolled in colleges. He loves his work and expects to remain in it to the end of his working life. His writing has been prompted by the many exchanges … questions, answers, suggestions about this sport… which his many loyal and often-returning clients initiated.

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      Book preview

      Through a Guide's Eye - James Docky Smith

      Chapter 2

      When I Was a Child

      ’Membering dose chile days

      When I was a child, family life very much centered on food much more importantly than today. The ocean, of course, provided the largest portion of what we ate and the surrounding land a good bit of the rest. Both required constant attention in planning, preparing, harvesting it, and putting it to good use. Fishing for eating was an every-few-days necessity, while - for most participants - it also provided physical enjoyment. In most Bahamians resides an avid and totally committed fishing person, in girls every bit as much as in boys. So it was no accident that from early age fishing was to become my life’s work and passion. To be honest, to be involved in the less ‘manly’ and certainly less enjoyable and less adventurous tasks of helping out with planting and reaping was not so high on my list of family working life!

      Getting food from the ocean was done by line fishing or by using heavy traps. Grouper would typically be caught in traps in those times but are just as often directly caught on a hand line. Going for turtle, the island’s replacement for veal or beef, meant on-the-surface hunting. You would use a net for bonefishing, and that was bonefishing for food, not for sport. And every catch had a short timeline for when we would eat it - although, sometimes, grouper - for example - would be air-dried for longer-term keeping, salted or unsalted. I remember how I relished dried grouper meat, the smell of which, to put it mildly, can easily put off anyone not used to it. I still like it today, though the chances of coming across it are fewer on our island. How ingenious were some of the old ways of coping with the conditions. For example, take the storing of live grouper. If it could be caught unharmed, instant butchering was not needed. Instead, live wells - built into the old-style wooden sailing sloops - permitted live-keeping for long periods. Close-to-shore in-water cages never worked. The kept live fish needs that fresh water of farther from the shore. If a cage were kept there in shallow water, it would not keep up the fish’s health for long. Most other caught prey, however, ended up in human (and domestic animal) food chains rather quickly, and any surplus would be shared with the neighbors, either just as a favor or in hopes of an eventual favor return.

      Everything took so long then! Time meant little, patience seemed to have no limits. Just walking to and fro, preparing a boat, rowing or paddling it out (not everyone, especially children, had or was allowed to use a sailing vessel), pursuing the prey, locating the traps—all of that took long, long days and a lot of physical exertion. And much time was absorbed by everything else. The deeper-draft sailboat, successfully returning with its catch, could not reach the dock because of the low tide so that a yet smaller boat was needed to move the goods to shore. Just as whenever any freight, mostly dry goods and canned/packed foods, came from Nassau, when every package, box, canister, or bundle had to be moved from the freight boat by small skiff, usually being sculled by hand power. And can you imagine how many unwanted life forms would come with these goods, being moved around the islands in musty wooden vessels, seeing general cleanups only sporadically and then only by very superficial means? The roaches, the spiders, the scorpions (harmless here except for their wasplike sting), the weevils and various other bugs that traveled along with the needed goods were a constant part of the supply chain. Many of the caught or sent-from-Nassau supplies never made it to shore, being kept and used right aboard the local fishing or freight vessels. I remember that my grandfather, for example, refused to come to shore if he was not happy with the catch of the past few days’ fishing trip. The Blanche Eva was his sailing vessel, all of some 45' length - with one tall mast, one shorter one, two booms, two huge sails plus one small one, one deck, one live-well, and one ‘sort of’ cabin, with a wood or coal stove. That was it. If they ran out of fresh water, they cooked their food with salt water, getting their basic drinking water supply from carried fruit, the milk of coconuts, and from the eating of fish.

      On the Blanche Eva, a Mr. Jackson from the next village here on the island was acting as the cook, while also being the mate, deckhand, fisherman, whatever. A six feet, eleven inches this man came to some 370 pounds. He already weighed down the boat or a skiff real good! Well, he never got complaints about his cooking, what with his size and shape! His nickname was Pepper man. One day I asked him how this came about, and perhaps I should not have asked, but the story came out like this: On one trip, the Blanche Eva was low on food. After leaving Long Island two days before, they got caught in a north-western, their sitting behind a cay, waiting for the weather to break. All food was used up except for seven cups of grits, and the weather was still too bad for moving. Mr. Jackson went all around the boat, looking for anything else to use, but could only find some pepper. He put the grits into the pot for cooking. All were watching and waiting. So he got upset and told everyone to get out of his way and do something until he would call. After a while, he called them all back. Everyone got a small portion, as he did himself. Now, remember, Mr. Jackson was a big man, needing much more food than anyone else. With his portion, he went to the stern of the boat and ate real fast and then watched the others. On they came, one by one, to the fresh water bucket. They just could not down the grits on account of all of the pepper Mr. Jackson had put into it! As they tried to quench their burning tongues, he emptied their plates into his one by one and consumed it all! He was the only one with a full stomach that day and the next and appeared none the worse from all that pepper! Well, that is how his nickname stuck!

      For some years, my dad worked as a captain on various sports fishing boats, plying the waters between the US south-easterly shores and those of the west coast of Mexico. Along the way, everyone trawled for marlin and wahoo. Suitable wahoo bait was hard to find in open water; you need to get onto shallow flats to catch some, impossible in the open seas. If they had a chance to get near some shore or some flats, out came the net. They would mostly just wade, throwing their net into a school of bones when possible. A tricky business, since bonefish spooks so easily. Bones were both the crew’s main food staple as well as bait for bigger game. Here on the island, I would always see bonefish hanging on the laundry lines of every house, first salted and then left to dry. There was only one bonefish net maker on Long Island. His payment would not be cash, which nobody had, but a share of the fish, fresh and prepared and dried.

      One morning, I must have been eight or nine or so, my grandmother and my grandfather on my mother’s side were coming over from their place and longed for some fresh fish for eating. Dad had no time that day, and I was not allowed to go alone, since a child could easily get into serious trouble on the water. Well, late that morning I was missing for a good while. Hours later I returned with a string of fish, proud of my accomplishment. Mom was not sure whether to get out the stick and give me a whooping, but she only asked who would clean all of these very small bonefish, and that I should throw them away, being too small to be good for nothing! But Grandma already had her eyes on them, and so, with tears in my eyes for being scolded, I scaled and cleaned all of them, and then I started to cook them. Mom would not let me into the kitchen - I had to set up my own fireplace outside. It only took a pot, salt water, lots of goat pepper, and some lime. Grandma never let her eyes stray, and when the fish was done, I piled all into a big bowl and gave it to her. She never put the bowl down until she finished all! And then she asked me whether there would be more tomorrow! Was I ever so proud! Did it ever feel so good to have caught and prepared her meal that day! It was only next day that I learned that she had faked the whole thing. After a few tries, she just could not bring herself to swallow! My cooking just did not add up! And I picked the wrong sized fish—too many bones! You do know that bonefish have a double spine, and that its bones are everywhere? Not one chew of its meat is without bones. Very tedious, but if done right, very tasty eating!

      Now, around the house we would have pigs, goats, sheep, and chicken to rely on for meat. When a longer sailing trip was planned, a live animal or two would be carried. Cooling was not available, so at sea and on land, livestock would be kept alive just until needed for food. Grits and corn, and sometimes even potatoes, were the usual basic side kick and, occasionally, whatever green and fresh vegetables that came from the garden. Corn would always have to be ground down to make the grits - though sometimes one would chew on it right off the cob. Island corn is very hard corn. Actually tough on teeth! As the grits sat around in bags; after a while mildew would set in, not to mention the bugs. Eat it you would in any event. You could not be too ‘paticula’!

      Actually, and one may be surprised to read this, this way of eating was quite healthy! There was no choice but to eat fresh things even if the offerings were limited and simple. Who could afford to buy sweets? Fresh fruit, sugarcane, the tamarind bean had to be it for kids! Junk food? Unknown. Canned goods? Available but expensive - so sparingly used. No wonder every child had great teeth, and most of the elderly still had their own right to their graves! Being overweight? Except for Mr. Jackson ... very, very few. You would just be too busy, too physical to be anything but lean like a rod, children and adults alike.

      I sometimes think I miss those early and simple days!

      Chapter 3

      How Did I Get Caught in Bonefishing?

      How bonefishinin’ hook me

      When did I fish for bone the first time? That was many years ago when, for the local resort, it was my job to fish the blue water with visitors. I realized that not everyone was plainly set on going after the big ones only and sometimes handling fish that weighs more than the rod-holding person. Although, then and now, my amazement over what lies ahead—out there on the open ocean and not knowing what excitement may come—never ceases and never will. All fishing types provided challenges, which intrigued me again and again. As bonefishing requests increased, a new dimension was added to my job: to take new recruits to the flats and teach them the basics of poling and casting a fly rod. I had a lot to learn myself, my prior fishing experiences having been those of working on bigger boats out in blue and deep water, or along the reefs of our island. Up to now, I had watched bonefishing only from watching a guide who was brought in by the resort, an American bonefish lodge operator and bonefish guide, Bob Hyde, to teach locals.

      Next, I became the specialist who was suddenly made to take on yet new guides to teach them the ropes. Well, there is learning in teaching. And did I learn! For example - having had trainees on the boat, usually two at a time, one for poling, the other for practicing casts - I squeezed in a few casts of my own. And found that something was wrong. Just what was wrong? I hooked up all right but didn’t land the fish. What I needed to do was to improve my strip setting.

      Right then, I knew that this was the sport I wanted to do! That sensation

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