Up before 7 for a return to Punta Gorda, the spot where Ispeared my biggest fish so far this trip. Antonio, my friend who runs Salim’s hostel and might like spearfishing as much as me, has the bright idea to swim rather than walk the last ~2 miles. He hangs back with a cute hostel guest he’s brought along, and I swim for it.

No, decent-but-not-great-sized green jacks: I won’t shoot you. I’m going to make it to Punta Gorda before hunting. 

OK, i’ll count 100 breaths while kicking then reevaluate if I’m going to do this.

Rinse, lather, repeat. Many times. My hair would be falling out.

Here, finally, and a school of big golden trevally greet me! Boom: first shot of the day and it’s a hit, getting 1/3 forward from tail vertically centered. Looks like slip tip is all the way through my prey, so should be nice and smooth to pull in, thank the ocean, and stab in the brain / rip a gill.

Why is the fish swimming away?

Fuck: The knot has come undone on my slip tip. There’s now a golden trevally with a rope and pointy metal bling hanging out of it somewhere near Punta Gorda. More likely, the accoutrement fell out of the fish somewhere I can’t see. More entertainingly, the shine of the metal made this fish extra appetizing for a monster to devour. There are extra moray eels around here, but I wouldn’t wish that fate on even the least tasty, most gear-stealing fish. Scary smiley slithery apparitions.

Some small successes at progress. I order a foundation for bond villain stacked shipping containers (herein “bondtainer”). 4 beefy piers at corners of 20′ container; what puts me over the top is Betin’s going to guarantee it for 10 years. Total cost 44,000 pesos ~ $2,200. And, last couple bolts installed for rooftop solar. 1.38kW live on the roof and a battery that lasts all night.

Then back to important stuff: the underwater hunting with the pointy stick. I take too long futzing on toy hauler, so it’s basically dark. Fuck it: I grab my fancy dive light.

I’m scared before I even get to water, and I can’t rally someone from the hostel to come with me.

Sitting in the water accidentally at the perfect time to see the slightly waning (waxing bigger, waning smaller) moon rise, I’m feeling better about this in spite of weird jumping by a trumpetfish as my beam skims over the water.

I’m underwater all of 3 minutes, maybe less. My beam extends 3-5 feet past spear’s tip in a small cone. Nope: too scary for me. Remember this next time I’m feeling fearless. Today’s hunt will be easy and very tasty: Paty’s Taqueria, my 2nd- or 3rd-favorite anywhere in the world (second only to some chain in Mexico City whose name i forget and, if you consider Tex-Mex to be Mexican, Juan In A Million. I’ve probably consumed well over 100 gallons of The Don Juan, egg cheap cheese potato bacon conglomerate with jalapenos and close to an equal volume of delicious fresh salsa overflowing from multiple  always-flour tortillas… making me satiate just thinking about it!)

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