Sometimes, as Bret would say, you just need to grab a rod.

Today, Jim, Elena, Sheri, and I went fishing for sub-adult lemon sharks around the flats off the east side of North Bimini.  As good as that sounds, it sounds even better when you hear the other groups will be hauling a huge net all day to catch and measure bajillions of tiny silverside fish.  Because of their size and range, larger sharks can't easily be caught with a gillnet and so catching them with a traditional rod and reel can be a good option, plus it's fun as hell.  What's better still, is that before we could shark fish we had to go trolling for barracuda to use as bait.

I caught a barracuda literally as we trolled out of our channel, so we decided to jet up to east wells to troll for a bit longer before anchoring and going after sharks.  After Elena and Sheri both quickly added their own barracuda to our bait supply, we went a bit further north and dropped anchor on the edge of the sand flats and geared up.

Elena was the first to go and, almost immediately, hooked into a small 125cm blacktip that she successfully got to the boat in about five minutes.  The shark was released after a quick work-up (measurements, DNA sample, sexed) and Sheri got ready next.  Landing a second shark proved much more troublesome, with two sharks managing to spit the hook and two others snapping the line, but Sheri eventually landed another blacktip of about equal size.

I was last and, trying not to sound like a douche, hooked into the largest shark of the day.  I spent the next fifteen minutes battling that bastard as he insisted on making lap after lap around the boat, repeatedly forcing me to pass the rod under the anchor line.  After thoroughly tiring himself out, we got the shark (another blacktip, 156cm) secured to the boat and did the work-up.

Now, because the water was relatively shallow and we were over sand, we could see any sharks that were within a hundred feet of the boat.  As a result, a bit of that "fun" fishing feeling of waiting unknowingly for the action was somewhat replaced with an equally exciting and frustrating feeling of watching the shark dance around the bait without biting.  Actually, the previous description works pretty well for my concluding comment; I've finally realized that, unlike the talented troubadour I imagined, I will always tell long and frustratingly detailed stories.  To my high school friends, I was always suspicious that you just liked to give me a hard time.  This was hampered a bit after my college friends managed to come to the same conclusion independently and pretty damn fast.  Now everyone here at the sharklab, arguably the third large new group of friends i've made, has figured it out too.  Well shit.  This has lead me to the conclusion that, not only are my stories long, but they're only getting longer and more unnecessarily and arbitrarily detailed.

Having said that, anyone who does not enjoy my stories speak now......................didn't think so.

HAMMERHEAD

Sunday was, in the words of an illustrious MC, Hammertime.

With several volunteers newly arrived, the regular sharkdive was modified and we found ourselves anchored approximately a quarter of a mile west off South Bimini on the edge of the Gulf Stream.  Using several freshly caught barracuda, the wahoo carcasses scavenged from the fishing tournament, and a potpourri of fish heads from the bait freezer back at the lab, Emily, Jim, and Sean began scraping fish and shaking chum bags while holding onto ropes off the back of the boat.

After an hour or so waiting on the boat, I began to get anxious and decided to suit up and try spearing some fish for fresh bait.  I had been in the water only five minutes when, after surfacing, I saw everyone still on the boat quietly suiting up.  Taking this as a good sign, I quickly swapped my spear for my camera and made my way to one of the ropes off the back of the other boat.

Almost immediately after grabbing the rope, I watched, giddy and awestruck, as a large Great Hammerhead swam towards me and made a pass at the bait directly below me.  With the bait sitting on the bottom, barely twenty feet below the surface, I spent the next thirty minutes with a front row seat to a marine display of sheer evolutionary perfection.  The shark made numerous circles and passes at the bait, occasionally disappearing into the blue of our underwater horizon only to return a minute later as an ominous shadow growing steadily into that streamlined, iconic shape that I feel so fortunate to have witnessed.  I put a video I took on Youtube under the name "Baiting in a hammerhead 2/21/2010"  and put a link to it on the blog at the top right, but let me know if you have trouble finding it.

While some of you might be reading this thinking we're crazy, all I can say is that the feeling of being in the water with sharks, especially one as elegant and powerful as a hammerhead, is a drug; an adrenaline rush-filled wave of excitement that leaves you wanting more.  I think it was this mutual feeling that, once the hammerhead had disappeared for good, compelled us to speed off to the usual sharkdive ground for a quick reef shark encounter.  This time around the reef sharks were definitely bolder and I had to kick probably seven of them to get them to stop swimming between us on the line.

After a late dinner of freshly caught grouper, the epic day ended with celebratory beers down at the bar and left me anxiously awaiting the next time we get the chance to go baiting...

Skunks and Mullets...Wahoo!

The 24 hour longline is over and I got skunked.

When we longline, the line is set at 2 pm and then checked every four hours by a five person team.  This results in a rather sleepless and anxious night as teams come and go and everyone tosses in their attempted sleep awaiting that elusive call from the checking team to say they've found a large tiger shark on the line.  In the event that a tiger is caught, everyone remaining at the lab piles into the boats to go check it out, swim around, and take pictures.  No tigers were caught during this longline and I didn't get to work up any other sharks because none were caught during my checks, although we did see a couple of massive eagle rays.  Finally, to top it off, Elena and I lost a team bet over which longlines would have the most sharks, and so on wednesday night (karaoke night) I'll be the classy dude at the bar in a full wetsuit, mask, and fins drinking beers through a snorkel...

The day was rescued slightly by the scene that unfolded before me later that afternoon.  Bimini Bay was holding a fishing tournament for Wahoo and, after taking numerous photos used for monitoring development in the north sound, Kristine, Steve, Emily, and I stopped at their marina to try and get the carcasses to use for shark bait.  What we found was one of the most bro-tastic and homoerotic displays of Americana i've ever witnessed.  About five high-tech fishing boats, each with more horsepower than a glue factory, were docked and unloading their catch for the tournament weigh-in.  It became clear right away that prerequisites for this crowd included a beer gut, neon slicker suspenders, and an affinity for ponytails and bad facial hair.  Furthermore, and this is saying a lot, I'm not sure i've ever heard the word "Bro" used more frequently than during the weigh in.  I was transfixed.  Feeling like Hunter S. Thompson at the narcotics convention, I watched as the personification of about a dozen American stereotypes hauled dozens of dead Wahoos the size of snowboards on to the docks, with the largest weighing in at 85 pounds and easily over six feet in length.  When the weighing was finished, the fishermen spent a solid half-hour lounging on manly white bean bags scattered across the boats and docks while drinking top-shelf liquor and listening to terrible remixes of already regrettable 90's dance hits.

We're doing something cool tomorrow but they haven't told us what yet...

I Guess Pelicans Never Took Swim Class

When you're young, what's the first rule you learn about swimming?  The rule that, if broken enough times, is likely to really to ruin your day?

Don't dive headfirst into shallow water.

Q - What did the one pelican say to the other?

A - You're fucked.

Pelicans clearly couldn't give two shits about this dogma.  In fact, as I spent a lazy day out tracking in South Bimini, I watched pelicans repeatedly dive-bomb into essentially knee-deep water.  This got me thinking; how many overzealous pelicans do you think paralyze themselves by diving after an all-to-shallow nemo?  Furthermore, how could such a risky hunting strategy have evolved?  This led me to two conclusions

1.) It would be fun to be a pelican
2.) As said pelican, you are ugly as shit

My reasoning is simple and can be explained with only a slight stretch of my imagination, be it a tired, hungry, and farmer-tanned imagination.  Pelicans enjoy lounging in tree tops, I enjoy lounging on couches (especially if they were up in trees).  When they're hungry, pelicans go flying and then dive into the water like an avian kamikazee when they spot food.  If someone told you that, next time you were hungry, you could go flying around in search of submerged cheeseburgers (forgetting for a moment that soggy cheeseburgers are probably pretty bad) you can't tell me you wouldn't be excited.

In other news, i've also realized that the principle of social altruism can really comeback to fuck you when concerning karaoke.  As I mentioned a few days ago, after several karaoke nights without any shark lab singers, I sang a song last week hoping that, if one person sang, others would start singing this week.  Wrong.  Instead, I was kindly and unknowingly volunteered to sing "Like a Virgin"....it got ugly quick and started what is sure to become a war of terrible renditions of pop hits from America's sluttiest female stars.

Tomorrow we're going long lining and it should therefore be an awesome day.  Hopefully we'll be lucky like last time and get some good size tiger, lemon, and black tip sharks on the lines.  Then, on Sunday, we're doing a shark dive and then getting ready for mini PIT which starts next week.  Basically, the next week or so should be a lot of fun and involve a lot of sharks.

dolphins are gay sharks.

Everyone loves a bonfire

It's no secret that there are certain things in life, let's call them inevitable truths, which everyone comes to understand in their life.  Some examples are that girls love chocolate, foreign ketchup sucks, Bret's gay, and bonfires.

The universal appeal of the bonfire was reaffirmed a couple nights ago when we built one on the back beach from dried palm leaves and an endless supply of dry driftwood that sits right next to the washed up old and rusty barge that Steph claims she's never seen before.  I'm guessing the appeal stems from somewhere deep in our genome that arose when our primitive ancestors learned bonfires were a great way to both stay warm and roast giant sloths, dinosaurs, and unruly women.  Whatever the reason, I challenge anyone to gather some friends, find a good spot, build a fire, and not have a good time (girls nagging that it's taking too long to build or that it's not warm enough doesn't count, girls will always nag).

Anyway, it's been a mellow past couple days down here due to high winds making it difficult for us to get out in the field.  We spent one morning picking up trash along the main road of south bimini and then i spent the afternoon cutting up the barracudas we caught last week to use for bait in the upcoming shark dive and long lining.  Back to the inevitable truth thing for a moment, I realized that it's a pretty tough life  for a sharklab barracuda.  As such a fish, after being hooked (or speared multiple times) and hauled into a boat, you get your head crushed with a small aluminum bat before being tossed in a deep freezer.  After chilling out for a bit, you're hacked into slices with a hatchet like a loaf of bread and then finally, as if that wasn't enough, fed to sharks.

Three new volunteers arrive tomorrow, one of which is a poor girl who is going to be living in room 2 with Elena, Steph, and Amanda.  This means that the girl is almost certainly missing three pieces of luggage which should've been included on her list; earplugs, a nose plug, and Prozac.

Alright I'm tired, time for my last inevitable truth, everyone loves sleeping.  

Roger That

There's something that i've seriously overlooked in my shark lab description thus far...I fucking love radios.

There is simply no better way to bring out my inner G.I. Joe than to give me a walkie talkie and let me say "ten four", "roger that", "no copy", and "red team go".  I mean shit, with the last job i had the person on the other line usually told me they wanted their pizza crust crispy or their salad dressing tossed; now I'm told to relay GPS coordinates and record our current sector...hell yes.

I think this is going to be a pretty short post for several reasons.  First, tonight is happy hour/karaoke night at the bar and usually the only other night we go out other than our days off.  I sang Ramblin' Man (and yes mom I'm being serious) but only after several Kaliks (Bahamian beer).

Walsh, I know you said you wanted more details but tonight i'm tired/drunk and this is all i've got.  It's O.K, though since you still have a bunch of time at Bucknell...oh wait, you graduate soon.

T-squad standing by

Map of Bimini

Matt pointed out that I've been talking about places around Bimini but haven't added a map or anything.  So, here's a map of Bimini courtesy of the lab table top which I took a picture of.  The shark lab is located on South Bimini just to the left of the little cove on the south side.  We do the majority of our work in the north sound, which is the teardrop shaped area at the tip of the two sides to north bimini.  Bimini Bay Resort is currently clear-cutting the mangroves that line the western shore of the North Sound, causing serious habitat loss for the many species that rely on the north sound as nursery grounds. We go spear fishing mostly off the north or west coast of south bimini and set the longlines in the shallow banks a little ways off Bimini's eastern coast.  

Thats about as much of a geography lesson that i've got in me at the moment.  From now on, if i refer to some place you're unfamiliar with just check this map (it should enlarge if you click on it).

The Superbowl, a day off, and Gill-netting

It's been a couple days since the last post so I apologize to anyone actually following this (mom and dad you don't count).  This whole wake up at 8 am, spend 7 hours on a boat, and then stay up till midnight routine isn't exactly on par with my normal sleep schedule, and i say "sleep schedule" because there definitely used to be more sleep involved than scheduled activities.  Nonetheless, I'm starting to understand that whole "carpe diem" thing and can acknowledge that I am now hopelessly addicted to coffee (currently drinking my 4th cup today at 8 PM).

Despite the unfortunate absence of the Giants, I enjoyed the Superbowl and think the Saints deserved to win.  Don't get me wrong I like the Colts, but once the possibility of a Bret Favre Superbowl meltdown/sob-fest disappeared I was rooting for the Saints.  The beach club bar here was a good time, especially because they screwed up and never charged me for my prime rib sandwich.

Elena and Steph were drunk by kickoff and, for some unknown reason, were given whistles and rattles.  As a result, today the two of them were having difficulty catching much of anything besides themselves.  Luckily, monday was a day off and I spent the post-hangover day spear fishing around South Bimini.

Today we went gill-netting in the North Sound with the hope of catching several juvenile lemon sharks to perform stomach eversions on.  The gill nets we use are about 175 yards long and 5 feet deep.  We tied one end to the mangroves and stretched the net westward into the sound.  Over the next five hours we managed to catch six sharks and decided to perform eversions on the three least stressed sharks.  For an eversion, a shark is placed in a tub containing a general anesthetic until it goes to sleep.  Once asleep, the shark is held slightly upside-down while forceps are used to gently pull its stomach out its mouth.  The contents of the stomach are later analyzed to determine the sharks diet.  The shark is then held upright while the stomach is gently replaced.  Finally, a bilge pump is used to force water across the sharks gills until it regains consciousness and is able to swim freely again.

Essentially, the whole process is similar to getting wisdom teeth pulled; you pass out peacefully, someone does some really invasive work on you, and when you regain consciousness you're loopy as fuck and have no idea what the hell just happened.






  

Martha Stewart ain't got shit on me

Today I played housewife.

Everyday one lucky volunteer is "on duty" and does not go out into the field.  Instead, starting with the breakfast dishes, that person does essentially every chore around the lab that no one else wants to do.  Highlights include bleaching the toilet, refilling condiments, endless dishes, and, if you're lucky, feeding the duck when it comes by.  Today was my second time on duty, however, last time I went to help refill the gas tanks and got away with not doing half the shit on the list.  Even still i can't complain, the three girls who i would've been working with had a pretty miserable day measuring shark pen mesh and repairing gill nets.  Actually, in hindsight, the whole situation was pretty funny/ironic; I was inside doing dishes and folding laundry while the girls were outside doing manual labor.

After an early dinner i went for my second 5k run in three days and then went and had a few beers at the Beach Club.  We're working through sunday and then having our day off on monday so that we (me) can celebrate (drink heavily) while watching the Superbowl.  Now that a Favre vs. Manning showdown is no longer in the cards, I'm just hoping to see a good game.  Hopefully the weather on monday is good and we can either go baiting to try and swim with hammerheads or go spearfishing again off South Bimini.

Just saw that Tiger Woods has completed and checked out of sex addict rehab, but still can't get over the fact that such a program exists.

Just another day at the...Oh wait, I don't work in an office

You know you've got a good gig going when your work day consists of trolling for barracuda to use as shark bait.  Needless to say, today was a pretty epic day. The reasoning behind this "work day" was because in the next week or so we are likely going to be doing another shark dive and long line survey, both of which require a large amount of fresh bait.

Jim drove one of the 16-foot Pro Lines around the reefs and cays off South Bimini as Amanda, Steph, and I took turns trolling.  In the beginning there was no action and I began to wonder if today was going to be one of those days that give the sport the name "fishing" and not "catching".  Sure enough though, after about twenty minutes, Steph got a huge hit on her line.  It was pretty funny to watch a rather unsuspecting girl battle a massive barracuda but, after a good fight, she landed the first fish of the day.  Then, ten minutes later it was my turn.

I've done a decent bit of fishing sporadically over the years but it's been mostly freshwater fishing and shouldn't really be described as overly productive.  Nonetheless, when that first barracuda hit my line I remembered how much fun it is to fight a big fish, especially one that strong.  I managed to land the first one (bigger one on the right), but then lost a second one right when it got to the boat and Jim was getting ready with the net.  I got a glimpse of it and she looked big, but then again they always do.  About an hour later i got the second one on a different lure.  Damn that was fun.

When we finally reeled in the lines and headed back to the lab for lunch we had caught five barracuda and one houndfish, making the day a definite success.  Then, after lunch, we packed up a boat and headed up to the North Sound with Emily and built a new tagging/holding pen for juvenile lemon sharks we plan to catch next week.  Back at the lab, Jim returned from a walk tonight with a 3 foot Bimini Boa and tomorrow we're going to feed it the two rats we've caught in our sheds.

On a final note; Mim, I know you're watching over me and, although i couldn't be there today, your family gave you a wonderful funeral and we all will miss you deeply.

Lab tour

I figured it was probably time to give a tour of the lab and show you what exactly it's like down here.  As i said before, the lab is located on South Bimini and, at the moment, the fourteen people living here probably account for 1/5 of all people on the island.

The lab (right) is small but comfortably functional with five small dorm rooms, a kitchen/dining room, two bathrooms, and a science lab/gear room.  There's also a nice deck that you can see in the picture.  Four sheds are located outside the lab and they hold most of the larger equipment such as large gill nets, long lines, and fish seines.

We wake up every morning at 8 am to eat breakfast, although i usually don't stumble in till about 8:15 or so; no real surprise there. After breakfast most of the volunteers usually go back to bed for a bit until the staff finish the morning meeting, at which point there's a short briefing where we're split into teams for the day and assigned various tasks (tracking, gill-netting, GPS mapping, etc). Most days we're out on the boats all day so we pack lunch and gather the gear in the lab and then load up the boats. Generally speaking we work until dinner, which is usually around 6 or 6:30. 

Before arriving here I was basically expecting to eat like a refugee for the next couple months, but i was gratefully mistaken.  Emily, one of the lab managers, happens to be a pretty badass cook and i have yet to have a repeat dinner (chix parm, lasagna, enchilada's, conch fritters, chili, etc).

After dinner we're free to do whatever.  Besides the lab, there's really not much to do on the island after dinner except go to the bar and drink, so when we're not there we hang around the lab and watch movies, play cards, and have conversations about really random shit.  Today, Sean brought back a large stone crab and we got it to crack a bunch of ice cubes with its massive claw.  Sean then proceeded to rip its claw off to eat tomorrow (it's legal to harvest stone crab claws, they grow back), which was pretty funny because he did it right in front of quiet little British Louise, who we then found out did her Masters on the fighting behaviors of crabs.  Playing Pictionary with foreigners (not sure if that's PC) is pretty damn funny but probably a really good way for them to practice english.  

One last note, its only been two weeks and already the girls are routinely burping and talking about farting and periods...I'm probably going to kill myself before this is over. 

I Got Shafted

What's the best way to end a seven hour day spent on a boat using a massive net to trap, measure, and weigh bait fish?

I'm not sure, because my day ended with (or should i say "on") a small submerged pipe shaft randomly sitting at the bottom of the lagoon.  Nothing like the abrupt sound of high-speed metal on metal to put a smile on your face.  Actually, I did smile because it brought back the memory of when my dads old Civic rolled down the driveway and crashed on the large rock at the bottom.  This time, however, i wasn't a 7th grader who'd forgotten his soccer cleats at home, and the only one swearing at me was myself.  Oh well, who doesn't enjoy a forty-five minute tow ride back to the dock on a rainy day?

So, to quote the ironic motto clearly visible in the back windshield of the Civic that fateful day years ago, "Safety is no accident"...