Blue Water & Blue Fins in Blue Beirut
Dive Hard with a vengeance!

By: Roger Y. Yazbeck

Thursday, November 18th., 1999

Makram calls in the morning.  Again, he wants the two of us to spend the day together, hunting blue fins.  Since his short pneumatic gun with tiny double floppers, 15 meters of rope and a boat fender, looked a bit inadequate to me, we decided Makram would just drive the boat and spot the tuna.  Not that my one band Picasso Carbono 120cm speargun was the ultimate weapon for such a quest, but it was the longest gun I had.  I also brought 2 threaded 6.5 mm. spears with one detachable head.  All I needed now was to get close enough for a solid shot.  Later in the story, I'll describe all the equipment I used that day and how it was rigged.

Makram and I met at the Halat-Sur-Mer Marina around 11 am, loaded our gear on the boat, and off we went.

The sea was flat, calm, and deep blue. The sun showered it with a billion diamonds and its surface barely wrinkled when a slight, north breeze blew. It was just another perfect Lebanese day allowing us to see miles and miles ahead.  October and November are my favourite months and autumn in Beirut is a season to write love songs. Absolutely marvelous.

We had been heading out for less than 10 minutes, at 25 knots, when suddenly, out of nowhere, the "happening"!!!! In a spectacle that would have easily left Disneyland and Sea World’s most elaborate water shows behind, schools of small, friendly dolphins exploded all around us, in a 1000 ft circle.  Tailing, leading, and escorting us, with 5 or 6 bunches of 4 to 5 dolphins each, pirouetting and sometimes jumping 15 ft in the air... a dolphin fireworks show at its best.  We idled the engine so that we could stand and fully admire the occurrence, as it lasted for over 20 minutes!  They just wouldn't leave us.  We were whistling at them and Makram would uncontrollably burst into joy.  I tried to stay "professionally" calm, but it was truly the best dolphin show I had ever seen and I had the chills ... and to think, only 10-minute boat-ride from Beirut!

Numerous species of waterfowl, mostly ducks and geese as well as skylarks by the hundreds, were migrating, some flying at water level. Makram and I knew the day was blessed. Something incredibly special was in the air.  We felt nothing could go wrong.

At first, I thought it was dolphin until I saw huge, black backs rolling over and one of them jumped 2 feet in the air!  A blue fin tuna!  I still had the vision of the Pacific Blue and Yellow fins zooming restlessly in the tank at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. This was it!

The bait was all around us and we parked right in the middle.  Imagine, tuna rolling and jumping all around us.  I went in the water and Makram started releasing my orange float line as I swam towards one of the feeding schools.  We were four miles off shore, and the depth was anywhere between 1200 and 5000 ft.  The water was clear, but with plankton in suspension, the visibility was no more than 50 ft.  Thousands of tiny scales and debris were all that was left of entire schools of sardines.  Large stingrays beat their wings towards the surface from the deep, relishing the smell of lunch, or possibly just out of curiosity.

From the size of the bait we saw, I knew the tuna could not be really huge, since they were feeding on baby mackerel and sardines no longer than 2 inches.  I didn’t see any larger sardines or mackerel in the near vicinity.

I dove down about 10 ft and looked straight ahead, towards a small, fleeing school of sardines.  That’s when I saw the tunas zooming in on them from below…  up they went... jumping after them repeatedly, and then rocketing back down.  There was no way I could get any closer than the edge of visibility. They would immediately flee downwards if they spied me.

I tried sprinting down to 30 ft after them ... but it was an impossible task.

The feeding frenzy was over.  We then followed seagulls to another spot.  Same vision.  But this time, I tried to stay calm and look for a bait ball that I could wait under, but the bait wouldn't ball.  It was the classical fleeing and swimming fast, non-stop in various shapes.  They would sometimes form a sphere, a football, a giant carpet and even a perpendicular column moving forward as fast as they could go.  Most of the time, they broke down into smaller numbers in tiny schools, left at the mercy of hungry tuna.

 My heart was beating rapidly as I swam left and right, up and down, looking and searching... then I would relax and dive down for an apnea of a minute to a minute 10 sec., under whatever baits school I happened to cross.  Nothing.  Time and time again, I would go down to 30 ft and see yellowish, metallic blue, torpedo away in a blaze; incredible and fascinating.

I was exhausted, it seemed as if I was competing in an underwater hockey game.

And that’s what I did on my 3rd dive.  Before I saw bait or anything move in the water, I took a couple of deep breaths and swam down.  I had been hanging
there for about 15 seconds, when I saw the tuna coming straight at me. Reaching my level, they took off.  I swam slowly towards the one that seemed to be closest, swung my gun up, bringing it right underneath my body, and then shaking my right leg to make sure the float line was far to my right and away from my body.

My right hand tightly gripped the handle and the float line attached to the shooting mono, in order to prevent its accidental release from the line holder.  I fought hard against the urge to extend my arm and pull the trigger.  I just didn't want to fall in the "visual" error of miscalculated distance.

I kept swimming towards them and realized that for the first time, I was gaining distance.  The fish were probably curious.  When I dreamed of tuna before, I probably must have figured they would appear to me as they appeared in one of those tuna posters or catalogue covers: crystal clear water, with hundreds
of tuna suspended in the blue void, right in front of the camera!  Wrong picture here!  It was night blue, darkish water, terrible visibility, and one single tuna finally in range.  

As I realized I wouldn't get any closer and my lungs were about to start screaming for air, I extended my right arm, aimed
at the tuna’s head and fired.

I didn't see the spear flying, nor did I see the hit.  All I can remember is the orange nylon float line bowing and disappearing into the night blue below.

I swam up and barely had time to catch the float.  It pulled, and I knew I had it!

On the boat, Makram was jubilating as the line ripped out of his hands and he threw in the float.  As I started fighting the fish, I raised my thumb in victory and he exploded.  "This is the best day of my life, the moment I've been dreaming of for so long", he confessed to me shortly after landing the fish.  I was in awe at the force this 50 lb. tuna deployed!  It had twice the power and the endurance of a jack crevalle, the strongest fighting fish I had ever shot before.  I knew what to expect though, since I had speared 8 lb. albacores and bonitos in the past, and an 8 lb. albacore or bonito would fight stronger than a 15 lb. amberjack.

So my strategy worked.  After a short rest, contemplating my first blue fin, I prepared for yet another hunt.

That same day, I pulled the trigger of my Picasso a total 4 times and landed 4 blue fins.  Two weighed 47.5lb each, one 50 lb., and one 52 lb. The last one zoomed down so fast, that I was still hanging at 30 ft. when I saw my float pass by me and disappear in seconds! I climbed back on the boat and we waited interminably long minutes.  Suddenly, we saw it popped straight out of the water like a scuba float! The foam injected, large, plastic buoy was all battered, as if hammered then run over. Another lesson learned; even when hunting small tunas… 2 or 3 foam injected buoys are a must, unless you’re using a large board.

Using his cell phone, Makram called his friends, and then I called mine.  By the time we arrived back at the marina, all of our friends were there to greet us and get a glimpse of the tuna.  We were able to take some great pictures. 

Equipment used and
the way I set it up:

1-)     A single band Picasso Carbono 120 cm speargun (Jose Amengual's Black Line) equipped with a 6.5 mm. threaded spear and a detachable head, made by a local manufacturer in Los Angeles.

2-)     A 200 lb. test Picasso mono for the shooting line. I made it to shoot exactly as a blue water gun; instead of the regular 5 lengths, I added an extra 6th length, which went all the way back to the handle and crimped it as a 2" Ø loop which I could easily clip on and off the float line. I then I triple hooked an elastic string in order to attach the end of that line to the line release holding pin, and the two side "crocodile mouth" holders.  It was a solid and reliable setup, as it never slipped-off in spite of the tension.

3-)     the float line was the cheapest nylon for every day use in construction.  I bought the 165 ft at $1.30 per lb. It came to $5.50.

4-)     the float is the large "Baywatch" style orange buoy, injected with anti-compression foam.  Luckily, I have 3 of these now, of which only 2 are injected. But on my next trip to Lebanon, you can be sure I'll use all three!

5)       (a) Wetsuit: 3 MM. Hombra Termic  (b) long blade fins Picasso BT-II Carbonium (c) Picasso «Sombra» tinted glass mask

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