scifish4

Putting all these elements together really paid dividends: we always
came back with fish, usually with several good-sized mackerel. In
fact, our average catch was much bigger that those caught by others.
This was, I am sure, because we always used natural bait and trolled
slow and deep. Lures would only catch small mackerel, apparently not
as smart as their elders, who were still not as smart as we were.

In truth, a lot of fish got away. It seems that mackerel normally
strike at fish with the aim of immobilising them, then come back to
swallow them. We would rely on our three-ganged hooks (illegal in
competitive game-fishing) to take hold on that first strike, but at
least half of all strikes would result in a shredded bait and no
hook-up.

Marlin fisherman have a similar problem, although I not sure whether
marlin strike the bait first with their bills, or perhaps just take
time to swallow the bait. The problem is solved by using outriggers.
The line is run through a clip on the outrigger and there is a length
of slack line between the clip and the tip of the rod. When the fish
strikes, the clip lets go, and the slack line allows the bait to lie
motionless in the water for a few seconds. I never tried this
technique in my tiny boat, but it would have been a worthwhile
experiment.

Some would say that David and I became obsessed with catching
mackerel. We certainly became very keen. We bought proper Everol and
Penn game-fishing reels, rods with roller runners and rod-buckets to
go with the rods. We upgraded to stainless-steel hooks and Sampo
swivels. I bought an echo-sounder so that we could easily find the
magic twenty-fathom line beside the step drop-offs. David once
accused me of spending so much time peering at this machine that it
had become an end in itself, rather than the means to an end: getting large mackerel into the boat.

For us, mackerel were the perfect game-fish. There was no guarantee of
success after a strike, or even after a hook-up. When the fish was
hooked properly, the reel would spin crazily as a couple of hundred
metres or so of line disappeared into the sea at a tremendous rate.
These fish were really fast, although they didn't have a lot of
stamina, so that there was usually just the one long run and another
shorter one when the fish saw the boat. Then we often had trouble
getting larger fish in the boat. We used a gaff with a short wooden
handle and we had to get it right the first time. If we missed with
our first swing, the fish was usually still strong enough to break
free. The biggest I ever caught was about 23 Kg, but I am sure we lost
much bigger ones right up at the boat.

Another attribute of the narrow-barred Spanish mackerel is that it is
good eating. Because its white flesh is slightly oily, a mackerel
steak does not dry out while it is being cooked. I like my fish fresh
and cooked simply: coated both sides with soy sauce, grilled until
just cooked through, then sprinkled with lemon juice. Another of my
favourites is what the Fijians call kokoda, which is cubes of fish marinated
in lime or lemon juice, then in coconut cream. It is served uncooked, but the
result is quite different from sashimi, because the lime juice has in effect
cooked the fish, so that it is no longer soft and translucent, but firm and white.