Squid fishing, besides being a thriving industry in Terengganu, Malaysia, is popular with tourists. Most hotels can arrange a night outing, or if you go to the jetty yourself, you can usually find a fisherman willing to take you along. But fishing for squid can sometimes turn out to be more of an adventure than you bargained for.
SQUID FISHING in Terengganu, Malaysia, is called candat sotong. The technique is simple. You need a strong light to attract the squid. Then you drop the line and jig it. The squid tries to grab the moving bait and is immediately hooked.
The four of us, Revi, Zul, Sam and I, have been in Terengganu for three days. Every night, we were attracted by the brightly-lit boats out at sea. Each would be carrying a generator to power fluorescent lights that hung over the side to attract the squid. The boats would drop anchor in a row just a little out at sea, a twinkling highway of lights, tantalisingly close to shore. They looked beautiful and festive.
It was already the tail-end of the squid season which is from May to July, but visions of a bountiful catch of squid filled our minds. Furthermore, as one of the attractions featured in every brochure on Terengganu, we figured we might as well check it out.
The hotel kindly made the necessary arrangements and at 7pm sharp, Din the fisherman came by in his fishing boat. It was about two and a half metres long, with a little engine room in the centre.
Wading into the sea, I was soaked to my waist. The boat was like a skittish animal, rocking and swaying to the waves. I clambered aboard and crawled crab-like to the back of the vessel and quickly sat down on its wooden deck. It began to drizzle. Din was busy. He ran round the boat with ease, checking that everyone was safely on board. Without much ado, we began our journey.
I wistfully watched the safe, stable shoreline get smaller and smaller. There was nothing to hold onto, as the rolling sea tossed the boat to and fro. I was was frozen stiff in my place as Din walked with apparent ease around the boat. The half-hour ride seemed an eternity as the rain got worse.
Then suddenly, Din stopped the engine and dropped anchor.
It was the middle of the dark South China Sea; I could only see little pinpoints of lights in the distance.
It is a good spot, Din announced, as he had successfully caught squid here before. I wondered how he knew where to find the exact same spot.
He then took out lines and multi hooks from a box and stuck a fish to each hook as bait. We settled down in anticipation.
We waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Apparently, the squid weren't as stupid as we thought!
Sam was freezing by then. He began to groan and shake violently. Zul tried to block the wind and Revi gave him an extra jacket to wear.
After an hour, we decided to go home.
Din was disappointed. He felt bad about the way things turned out. Shaking his head, he said: "Malam tak baik, jadi macam ini." (A bad night like this, everything goes wrong).
Then, as if in consolation, the line he was pulling yielded a big cuttlefish!
We gasped in amazement as the perfect cephalopod spat ink furiously at us. Its eyes stared balefully as it turned from translucent to white.
Everyone was relieved when we reached shore. Poor Sam! As soon as he got out of the boat he retched his guts out. It took an hour to walk back to the hotel. The staff were up, anxiously waiting for us. The cook kindly agreed to make us hot drinks. When they brought it to our room, there was an extra dish, our squid, looking mouth-wateringly delicious.
But the sea had the last laugh, after all.
The squid was tough and rubbery like an old shoe. But we finished every last bit with relish.
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