The Art of Fishing

Formentera, February 2021

Back in Paradise. Back to the roots. Back home since two weeks.

Baerable confinement regulations with daily walks on the beaches or cliffs, make it easy to enjoy the quiet and pure island life. I try and go swimming every other day to boost the immune system, in spite of freezing off my guts with 15 degrees water temperature.

Can’t get the idea out of my head that I want to learn the skills of fishing. Never done it before and now it is the right time. Therefore, I ask various friends with boats to take me along and show me how to fish Calamares by dusk and Sargo, Dorada or Roncador by dawn. Or during any little day trip sailing towards nice deserted beaches with crystal clear blue waters, where you can actually watch the fish approaching the worms on the hook. One friend shows me how to tie a flexible knot around a piece of dried bread with various hooks stuck inside, floating on the surface of the water, watching carefully that gulls don‘t steel the bread and eventually get stuck on the hooks.

I really try my best, keep doing what I am told in order to get a sensibility for the art and culture of fishing. But my bucket stays empty, day after day. So far, I wont be able to survive alone if I had to be depending on that, thats for sure. Unless I capture female sea urchins to eat their delicious eggs, as done in the past. But since a couple of years, they are highly protected on Formentera and one can risk an important fine if caught. And I rather respect the sea, not the authorities.

Back on land, I go in search for the wild green asparagus growing out of nasty thorn bushes at this time of the year. What are thorn-scratched hands in comparison to delicious green-bitter tasting asparagus cut in little pieces mixed in a tortilla? The wounds heal after a day or two and my stomach is well fed. Too well fed, because I gained quite a few kilos within the last couple of months, as a result of lack of exercise. Also, my sense of balance has become worse which does not make it easier to fiddle around on a boat. I keep skipping my yoga classes and, physically, I feel like shit. Walking slower than a few months ago, my left hand is getting stiffer so I can only type with my right hand fingers. But thats nothing new. At least, the deterioration process is slow and gives me enough time to get used to the losses. And still, I feel fortunate and lucky enough to lead that life by the sea. Free and easy.

Anyway, tomorrow I will accompany another friend with another boat during another attempt of fishing. Wont give up. Never ever.