Shortly after undocking from this 429-year-old Caribbean seaport in a 12m Luhrs boat, I wondered if we were in over our heads. The most experienced fisherman in our party of four began vomiting overboard as the boat lurched through 2.5m swells.
None of us could comfortably stand, much less fish for the magnificent marlin, sailfish or swordfish in the waters above the La Guaira bank, an area about 32km from the coast that attracts schools of baitfish. Yes, this area has some of the world's best billfishing conditions, but the gravitational tug of the nearly full moon, a change in ocean currents — something — was in the way of our catch.
"Don't worry," said Arturo Blanco, 45, one of the two Venezuelan fishermen guiding us that day, as he chugged on a morning beer. "We'll get lucky today."
PHOTO: NY TIMES NEWS SERVICE
As the sea-fishing novice of the bunch, I already felt blessed with good fortune. In the minutes before the swells began to build, one of the boat's fishing lines with ballyhoo bait caught on to something and I jumped into the fighting chair. After 20 minutes or so, I caught a 13.5kg yellowfin tuna. I had no idea it would require such effort to pull in that kind of fish.
No one tells you how streamlined and muscular tuna can be, whether you are eating sushi or Chicken of the Sea. As the almost immediate ache in my right arm attested, this tuna had much more fight in it than the rainbow trout or catfish I used to catch while growing up in northern New Mexico.
The fish was in a different league and this was a much different place, highlighted by the murals that color the walls of La Guaira and every other Venezuelan city, pointing to the vaguely defined "21st-century socialism" that President Hugo Chavez hopes to finance with surging oil revenues.
Few countries are as blessed as this one with natural resources. A popular joke here says God gave Venezuela abundant amounts of oil, natural gas, gold, coal and timber, only to endow it with a political tradition with leaders who concoct grand schemes that ultimately prevent those riches from reaching the population. The joke should include fish.
The fishing off La Guaira is renowned in elite angling circles abroad, even if it is little known within Venezuela. It is one of the few spots in the world where an angler can accomplish with relative ease an offshore slam, a catch of white marlin, blue marlin and sailfish in a day.
Venezuela's socialist rhetoric notwithstanding, rich foreigners flock here each year to fish. They stay in the old resort hotels of La Guaira, a city on the other side of the Avila national park from Caracas, which is still recovering from landslides in 1999 that killed more than 15,000 people.
"We're now getting a few Russian and Polish anglers coming in," said Frank Diaz Macgregor, owner of a Caracas company that organizes fishing trips throughout Venezuela. Diaz Macgregor said he viewed Chavez's re-election this month to a six-year term without much concern. "Chavez started something," he said, "so we might as well let him finish it."
We thought we were getting away from Venezuela's polarized politics for a few hours by venturing into the Caribbean for some billfish. But political talk these days is inescapable in Venezuela. Just as we all began feeling queasy from the swells, Jonathan Arena, another crew member, broke into a monologue on why he abstained from voting for any politician.
"Our entire political class is either delusional or corrupt," said Arena, 25, between gulps of beer.
He and his colleague, Blanco, seemed to be competing to see who could get drunk before noon, thus making our group even more uneasy about being in rough waters. As the boat continued to swerve, I thought, "Do all these easy riches— whether fish, oil or gold — actually make it harder to build a cohesive and peaceful society?"
As the crew members calmly proceeded to consume more beer, we each had to lie down on the floor of the boat for what seemed like hours. Occasionally we would hit a particularly rough swell that caused us to lurch to and fro. Finally the waters began to calm down a bit as the boat continued trolling for those elusive billfish.
As the sun started setting, we turned back toward La Guaira. Then one of the fishing lines showed signs of life. The crew, to my amazement, jumped into action to pull on the right outrigger. My friend Tyler Hicks reeled in what we soon found out was a big dorado — a mahi-mahi.
He then dived into the sea with a waterproof camera in an attempt to get a photo of the dorado, handing the reel to Blanco. Astonishing us all, the fish jumped into his arms. We didn't catch any billfish that day, but even the Venezuelans with us went home with a story to tell.
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