Fishing in Huatulco
All those weeks back in Cancun, spending a day at the coast (known as The Riviera Maya), we had noticed a few opportunities to go sea fishing in the Caribbean. However, we didn't jump at the rip-off prices. I had the image I would get chatting to some working fishermen and pay them rather than pay one of the glitzy boats aimed at sports fisherman, kitted out with GPS to find the fish. I don't like that idea. I would rather not go fishing at all, for me the excitement is not knowing when you're going to get a bite. So we decided to wait, in the small hope we might come across a real fisherman later in our trip. We only had one more coastal trip planned at this point, which would be when we arrive in Oaxaca. I saw this as my next serious chance to find a real fishing boat, without the GPS, without the extortiantate prices, just a rod and a bit of shade would be just fine.
We had heard the coast of Oaxaca was an active fishing area. We were staying in an area called Huatulco, a pristine collection of beaches and coves, fairly touristy, but beautiful and clean along the coast. I wasn't hopeful of finding any pirate looking fisherman. I was at the point of giving up and going with the idea of a 'beach day'- according to Louise this means having no real plans and just relaxing for the best part of the day, reading, writing a postcard, drinking, eating light lunches on the sand. I had to find something to occupy myself for the rest of the beach day, I wasn't giving up that soon.
Early morning on Playa La Entrega, before the crowds arrive
We arrived at a beach called Playa la Entrega to be hounded by a few friendly but irritating touts trying to drag us into their beach restaurants, or for a scuba lesson or cove boat tour. We politely declined them all as we wanted to decide for ourselves what to do. Walking over the scorching bleach white sand, I noticed a twinkle far over the otherside of the beach, far enough from the touts and tourists. I let Lou know it was a sixth sense moment (this is when I seek out an unusual cuisine, street food or something of culinary interest, for example when in Thailand I managed to sense out fresh coconut cream in Klong Toey Market, it's a gift I have). Approaching the twinkles of shimmering light on the deserted area of the beach, we noticed a man who seemed to be shucking an entire table's worth of oysters with his wife. Like I said, I've got a sixth sense for these sort of things.
Result. I had found an activity to occupy myself whilst Lou happily chills in the sun with her feet up. I could chat to the oyster man with his wife.
"Hola, oysters for comida?" I said, in perfect Spanglish.
We were handed a plate of six tiny but plump jewel like oysters with fresh lime and chilli salsa. Everything was perfect. Guero, the man who was shucking the oysters turned out to also catch them, and pointed at a small island in the bay with rough rock edges. These couldn't get any fresher. I instantly liked Guero, obviously. He was really relaxed and polite, he didn't rip us off either. He pulled up a plastic chair and we chatted about the oysters as he flicked through a photo book of diving and boat tours he also offered. It looked great, but we were leaving the next morning and I had my head set on fishing.
Guero at his table of oysters
Lou asked Guero if he had a fishing boat of his own, and if so, could we go with him to fish. After a while of mis communication and polite haggling, a few more oysters and a beer, we managed to organise a boat of some sort with Guero for the following morning, just hours before we were due to leave this area. I was chuffed we had managed it, we had stumbled across the only unofficial fishing tour (without GPS or the heavy price tag), we also had agreed that if I caught any fish, that we could keep it to cook and eat - half the fun in my opinion. We agreed to meet at 8am the next morning on the beach. I could now relax for the rest of our 'beach day', beer and oysters in hand, safe in the thoughts of tomorrow morning...
Fresh, creamy oysters caught in the bay by Guero
7.30am
We are early to the beach, eager, after downing a quick black coffee and eating a banana. No sign of Guero.
7.45am
We ask around on the beach, still no sign of Guero. Locals are starting to see us as bait, and start selling us diving tours. We wait.
8.15am
Guero appears from nowhere, in brightly coloured shorts stretching as he approaches the beach. He calls a young Mexican man, Alejandro, who speeds around the bay in a motor boat.
We jump into the boat, without Guero to our surprise, and are handed a large sea rod each. It's a scorching hot day, even at that time in the morning. Luckily, there's a small amount of shade on the boat, and so we go out to sea full throttle, heading deeper and deeper with the rods tailing out the back. Alejandro sits on the motor at the back, and asks where we want to go. I thought the answer was obvious - where the fish are!
Alejandro pushing the boat out
I didn't take my eyes off the rod squinting all the time, and after 15 minutes felt a huge tug on the line. I jump up and start reeling in slowly. There's a definite power behind whatever is on the end of the line.
It was exciting to know that already we potentially had a meal hanging off the end of this fishing rod. I kept reeling. It seemed to get heavier the more I reeled, and the line was being pulled from left, to right, to left. There's definitely enough weight on here to feed two of us, I thought. It had now been a solid five minutes I'd been reeling in, it must be close. Alejandro kept the boat circling, whilst I continued to reel. Eight, nine minutes. We better not lose the fish.
Finally, a silver glimmer of something shiny coming close to the surface. There it was, I really couldn't let it go now! As the fish was right at the surface, Alejandro reached over and grabbed the line, lifting the fish into the base of the boat. I was chuffed. I knew it was Tuna straight away, and I recognised that it was bonito. Alejandro shouted the name in Spanish, but all I could think about at this stage was eating it.
3.5KG of Bonito. Not bad for a morning's work
We stayed out on the water for another hour or so, but didn't have any more luck. It didn't matter to me though, as we wouldn't have been able to eat more than 3.5kg between the two of us. I was happy.
Back on the beach, we said goodbye and thank you to Alejandro and Guero, and started to try and disguise the bonito before getting in a taxi back to town. In the UK, you're usually not even allowed to eat or drink in a taxi, but we were in Mexico, and it was more than ok to have a fish tail poking through our backpack zip.
Being a 40 degree day, I wanted to preserve the freshness of the fish as soon as possible, especially as I wanted us both to try the fish raw as well as cooked. I had noticed that the common OXXO shops (a bit like a newsagents) sold large polystyrene boxes. We grabbed one and filled it with a bag of ice and the fresh fish, luckily it just fit. We hailed another taxi and managed to barter a fair price to go all the way to Puerto Angel, about 1.5 hours away, and our next destination along the Huatulco coast. With the big box of fish in the boot of the car, and our backpacks we were all set and it was only 11am. The best morning I had spent in Mexico, so far.
Tuna Ceviche with fresh lime, chilli, crushed mango salsa and tomato and avocado salsa. We ate the tuna with some crispy tostadas and warm tortillas, for the next full day!
To my horror, after arriving in Puerto Angel, after all the effort of getting the fish there, nice and chilled, we didn't have a kitchen in our accommodation! I wasn't going to give up, we had a lovely fresh fish that was definitely not going to be wasted. I instantly thought we only have one option, to cure the fish using lime juice and make one of the dishes we had been eating so often in Mexico, a ceviche. Im not particularly proud of what I made, however using a blunt as hell knife I'd bought from a market a few weeks ago, a few bowls borrowed from the room next door, and no kitchen it wasn't too bad. The fish tasted great, and I suppose it was a sign from the food Gods to say keep it simple.