picture of WORLD RECORD Mediterranean snapper

[Going Deep]

Excellent post and pics Sea Biscuit, felt as If I was almost there

[JMS-ILM]

they look like red groupers......and slobs at that! great installment!!!

[Capt-D]

Where have I been?

This Thread is killer. Keep um coming! Is it me or does cousin Nick look like the guy from perfect storm in the last picture?


-D

[shot2hell]

Greatest photo's yet! Keep them coming...

[WAHOONBOX]

I WANT TO THANK NICK FOR THE MUCHO GRANDE HARD WORK HE PUT INTO THIS MASTERPIECE....TAKING PHOTOS AND SCANNING ....ETC ETC......SHARING HIS WORLD WITH US HAS BEEN A BONUS SFC TREAT.....AND I HOPE HIS VERSION OF "WELCOME TO MY WORLD" WILL CONTINUE!!!

[Jer]

I just re-read the "Redemption" post. Very nice

[SeaBiscuit]

thank you everybody for your positive comments and encouragement. There's plenty more to tell. I've been a bit busy these last couple of weeks and waiting for some more photographs that my brother Peter is sending me. I will keep at it and try to tell the story of captain Yannis and his sons to the best of my ability. My brother tells me that the old man is not well. As is the practice in Greece, no one will admit that the old guy may be in his last battle. Defying death is an ancient art of Greeks. I hope to finish the story and show it to him when I visit him in June. He would be very pleased to know that he is known among this society of fishermen.
Stay tuned,
SeaBiscuit

[Jesse Lockowitz]

Sweet thread, just went through and read it all.

Cool pics too!


Jesse

[SeaBiscuit]

Diros Bay


Of all fishes one is prized most by the Mediterranean people: the sea bream. A rather small (5-6 lb max) and bony cousin of our own Atlantic pinfish (!) the sea bream commands premium price, exceeding that of groupers and snappers. A booming aquaculture industry is now established in the med growing primarily sea breams and sea bass. Fresh farm raised breams are on the menu in some of the better NY city restaurants. You ask any Greek and they'll tell you they'd rather eat trash than the farm raised fish. The wild caught, lean & elusive sea bream has no rival when grilled whole over a real wood charcoal fire, seasoned only with sea salt, olive oil, lemon and wild oregano. I remember my father buying such fish on a very special occasion. The reverence with which he cleaned, handled, prepared and finally served the fish to the family never escaped me. The following is an artist's rendering of the med sea bream



Not long after the night of the goatfish I found myself, once again, unable to motivate old captain Yannis to work hard on the water. The big groupers put a bit too much money in the man's pocket. The cognac was flowing freely and my aunt and I were working double hard at the restaurant trying to keep up, while the captain visited the various local establishments hanging out with the guys and courting any female that dared come within earshot of him. I had to get him out on the water! I readied the boat, told my aunt we were going & dragged the old man to the boat on a less than perfect evening. There was a bit of wind that night. Just enough to make fishing with the lights not right. Captain Yannis was sporting a building hang over and was looking for a quiet cove to bed down in. The downwind side cove of the "monk" island was occupied by a gorgeous transient sail boat. Captain Yannis did not like that. He was in no mood to be sociable. We headed off to the next island, a spooky, rocky place called "dragonara". I did not like this place. The water was deep and the shore steep rock cliffs. Our fishing light reflected like a million ghosts on that rock face, occasionally startling wild pigeons and scaring me half to death.
I shouldn't have brought the old man out tonight. To hell with my "initiative".
For only the second time ever, the old man directed me to the beach in a tiny pebble cove. He told me to keep the boat off the bottom and he'd be right back. Right back he came holding a bulging plastic bag, like the ones everyone used at the market.
I pushed the boat just offshore and dropped the iron in 10 feet of water as directed. This little cove was deserted and better suited for "making bait". The captain focused his eyes on the water glowing brilliant under the fishing light. He never reached for the gig. Instead he reached in the plastic bag and pulled out this small fist size bundle of plastic. When sufficient anchovies and silversides had been attracted to our light, he reached in the bag again, pulled out a short length of fuse made a hole in the little plastic bundle and inserted the fuse. There were no words spoken. This was a "small" amount of dynamite, what the locals called one third, or a third of a stick. Kind of like a cherry bomb on steroids, plenty strong to make bait. The water muzzled the explosion. Bait floated all around the boat. My captain directed me to gather a pail full, being careful not to drop any fish in the boat, as they would be a sure indication that we had used dynamite, an illegal and unethical way of fishing. He collected the iron and made his way back to the monk cove where the sailboat was. He handed me his pocket knife, showed me how to properly cut the little fish in tiny chunks that would sink, and told me to only wake him if I saw any naked women at the sailboat.
I had long regretted being out this night. Not because of the dynamite so much, but because of the karma. Fishing with an unhappy partner (or captain in this case) still takes the wind out of my sails. The old man was wrestling demons that night.
I smoked a lot of cigarettes, chopped all the bait and thought about how I was shaming my father by doing something he expressly forbid me from doing. My father never sugarcoats his opinions. Many times he told me that the old man's choice to use dynamite had cost him (captain Yannis) a son. There was no need for any more sons to be lost. My conflicted feelings alternated between the empty stomach feeling of doing something very wrong and the intense anticipation & exitement of the "success" such fishing could sometimes produce.
One hour before daylight, the captain woke and directed me to 3 locations, which meant nothing to me in the dark. We chummed each spot with the cut up bait and waited. There was still a little breeze and I was shaking hard. Nothing like the combination of being cold, wet and scared without the sun to look up to for help.
I prayed for the sun to come and He did. The captain put fuses on three doubles (two sticks of dynamite each) and pointed me to the first spot. In the dawn's light, I saw the flash underwater at the first chummed up spot. Captain Yannis hurried me to get him directly to the site of impact. Using the landing net for floaters and the gig for sinkers he quickly put a few pounds of "seconds" (medium quality & price fish) in the basket. He was not happy and expressed that opinion strong enough to make the bones of many a saint move in their graves.
There was much more light when we hit the second spot. This was at a rocky little peninsula surrounded my moving water. There was some fish there, but the current was strong and we retrieved little of what we killed. By this time it was truly uncomfortable being around the old man. He is acting like a spoiled child who is mad at his mother. He talks to the Sea in a disrespectful manner. I ask Her to ignore him. He is just a bitter old man lashing out at those he loves most.
He hit the 3rd spot from a long distance away, with little hope and anticipation. This was a sandy patch in a grassy cove. He handed me the net and told me to go to the bow and see if we got anything. I was hesitant to do it. I did not want to be the one to let him know that we got nothing because we deserved nothing! I got to the bow and saw the first fish float. I scooped him up and put him in the boat. It was a sea bream of almost 6 pounds. The largest I'd ever seen, by far. The old man just about threw me overboard while snatching the net out of my hands. His eyes were big and moist. He proceeded to boat sixteen of these very large breams, eventually weighed in at almost 30 kilos later at the fish house. He crossed himself with every fish and told the Sea how sorry he was for having mistreated Her. He told Her he loved Her more than anything. He humbled himself, letting me hear him asking for Her forgiveness and promising Her he'd never, ever be mean to Her again. He never once looked at me, until the work was done and the tears in his eyes had dried.
The one hour ride home was just right for captain Yannis to regain his composure and begin to celebrate our extraordinary luck. The sun had warmed me by now. I was not scared anymore. I could not wait to see the look on my brother's face when he saw our catch.
My captain left me to straighten up the boat while he headed to the fishhouse. I finished my chores and headed straight home to get cleaned up and get ready for work at the restaurant. On my way to the restaurant I run into my father who is extremely excited and animated over something.
"Did you sea the monster sea breams they have out on raffle? Two fish weighing 5 kilos! Never in my life have I seen the likes of those!"
I said I hadn't but I'd be sure to check them out. He said he was on his way to the house to pick up some money and buy a few chances to try to win these fish, because he sure would like to eat them.
Captain Yannis was on his 6th or 7th cognac by now, lounging at the waterfront (thus more expensive) cafe, in a celebratory mood. "You put the fish out on lotto?" I asked. "My father has seen them". "Have a cognac" he says "don't worry, I'll handle it". I had no cognac. Went off to work hoping to disappear for a while.
Dynamite killed fish look totally unmolested. No hook marks. No gig marks. their spine is a bit less rigid than a fish that has died a "normal" death. The fish monger and dynamite fisherman can tell the difference. The consumer cannot.
My father came looking for me a couple of hours later. I could tell from the look in his face, he meant business.
"The fish house said you and Yannis caught those fish", he stated.
"Yes sir we did. I just did not know they were on lotto" was my reply.
"I saw the fish" he says "no marks on 'em. How did you get them".
My knees are knocking. At 17, I am a little taller than my father and could likely defend myself if needed, however, my upbringing would prevent me from resisting physical punishment, especially since I was clearly in the wrong. It's been a long time since he let me have it.
"I'm sorry" I replied "uncle Yannis asked me not to discuss this with anyone. I can't tell you".
"Let's go find him" says my father as he storms out of the restaurant.
Captain Yannis is blistered by now. I dare say he's spent a good portion of that fat paycheck buying drinks for all the regulars. The old man's eyes smile their best welcoming smile at my father, who looks like he's about to breath fire out of his nostrils. He is careful not to make a scene in public, accepts my uncle's invite to sit, declines an offered drink and gets down to business:
"How did you catch those fish Yanni?"
I can see the old fox's eyes clearing, the mind working.
"Long ago I discovered a sea grass these fish crave this time of year" said the old man with a poker face. "I had your son dive for this grass, we baited our fish traps with it and got lucky this fine school happened by. Beautiful fish these sea breams, aren't they cousin ?"
"Very beautiful indeed Yanni" responded my father
"I knew you, of all people, would truly appreciate these fish Bobby (my father's name). I took the liberty of saving one for you in exchange of your son's labor on my boat" said Yannis and raised his hand getting the attention of the bar maid, who reached in the store fridge, brought over the prettiest of our 16 breams and offered it to my father. She was a pretty girl, but my father did not even notice. He thanked captain Yannis for his generosity and excused himself to go "tend to the fish urgently to preserve it's freshness"

"Sit down son" said the old man. "Bartender! Get the admiral a beer please!"

SeaBiscuit

[slip slidin]

Good stuff biscuit. More! More!