The Balinese Art of Spearfishing

We have united with our first visitors. Jeannie and I deplaned in Indonesia to the beaming smiles of Kelly and Shomit. They are the most adventurous of people, with curious hearts and open minds. They have the gift of the traveler’s paradigm—there is no problem too big, no mystery too small. As a couple, they are the perfect travel companions. Plus, it’s great to have a guy around. It took no more than twenty four hours after meeting with Shomit to engage in some good old fashioned “mantivities.” With his initiative, I even tried something new—something I’ve always wanted to try. Spearfishing.

Look no further than the attached photo for the proof of this statement: spearfishing is harder than it appears. When we left the beach to meet our captain and expert of the aqua spear, I had visions of returning to the homestead with the bounty of the sea—maybe a red snapper, or a yellowfin tuna. We learned from the locals that the seas were teeming with them just beyond the waves. Feeding from Shomit’s confidence, I even told Jeannie (with an inflated chest) to save room for lunch, as I would be the provider for the day. It’s a good thing there was a restaurant beside our bungalow.

It turns out I cannot swim nearly as well as fish. Getting close to them can be extremely challenging, especially when carrying a despairingly primitive weapon. I got the sense that most of the fish I encountered were not foreign to the spear—giving me great reason to doubt the scientific claim that the scaled creatures have no memory. They were somehow able to keep a two meter distance from the end of my spear at all times—a minor complication when the leash on the shaft is one meter long.

Then, of course, I was greatly limited by my selection of prey. The big fish, tuna and snapper, swam too deep. I nearly popped my eardrums and permanently suctioned my mask to my face in a futile twelve foot descent. The shallow reef fish were too beautiful. I was so mesmerized by their colors I forgot I was fishing for nearly half an hour. Some of the reef fish were actually large enough to be accompanied by a side of rice and fried noodles, but I didn’t have the heart to take one down. Then I discovered the perfect compromise; a fish that swims at a reachable depth, and doesn’t shimmer like a kaleidoscope in the sunshine—the trumpet fish. Slow and docile, it made the perfect target. There was only one problem. The trumpet fish has the same girth as the very spear I was using to snare it. Only the master marksman could hit such a target. Or a lucky beginner without a clue of how to spearfish in Bali. Luckily, I belong to the second camp.

When I returned to the bungalow with my catch, I soon learned the Balinese love to engage in a good laugh. When they looked upon my trumpet, and the fish that Shomit was holding (to his credit, “it looked much bigger when it was underwater”) they spared no breath in berating our skills. I actually had to plead with the proprietor to have the cook even prepare my catch. But alas, a meal was produced. It’s a good thing there was plenty of cold Bintang available to wash it down.