Tag Archives: Goa

Goan fisherman steal the show on ‘dolphin trip’

Early Friday morning, a longboat arrived at the beach in front of our bungalow. Similar to a large canoe, it featured an outboard motor and a wooden outrigger cobbled together with yellow rope. Marianna and I waded through the water to climb into the boat, and sat while the older fisherman and his young assistant remained in the water waiting for a break in the waves before pushing the boat back out to sea for our “dolphin trip.”

We motored to the edge of the bay, occasionally pausing to scan the sea for dolphins. A few fins surfaced. An arched back, a flip of a tail. Maybe five dolphins in all, including a baby. After the excitement of our dolphin encounter in the Maldives last year, this was rather anticlimactic.

Our captain maneuvered his little craft toward a larger boat, where men were hauling in a huge red net jumping with sardines. About ten skinny workers clad in underpants and tank tops clustered at the stern, pulling the net hand-over-hand, their upper bodies bowing jerkily up and down, brown legs tensing with the effort. They sang as they worked, a repetitive chorus in response to a leader’s verse. Our boatmen chuckled, and the younger man noted how singing makes work easier. I almost asked what the song meant, but I worried the lyrics might be embarrassing to translate. Instead, I asked how long it would take to finish the job. About one and a half hours, he replied.

As the song continued, empty net piled at the fishermen’s feet and captive fish were forced into the remaining space at the sea’s surface. Trapped, the sardines leapt and splashed, some catapulting out of the net and back to freedom, some flipping into the claws of swooping brahminy kites. The brown-and-white birds circled the boat, stealing frantic fish – both at sea level and in the air. Near collisions and threatening shrieks resulted in surrender, fish falling from loosened claws, snatched from the sky by the aggressor.

I hadn’t brought my camera on our brief excursion, but the image would have made a brilliant photo. The paint-peeling fishing boat, bobbing in a jade sea, dark bodies bent over crimson nets, small orange buoys evenly spaced along the net’s edge floating amorphously around the boat, a blazing neon sun rising over the forested hills that jut up from the beach, and birds of prey suspended like a mobile overhead.

Here’s a photo of a brahminy kite taken by Johan Stenlund and posted on his website, Birds in India/Goa. Now imagine scores of them circling the fishing boat!
brahminy kite

Here’s a photo of a fishing boat at our beach, similar to the one that took us on our “dolphin trip.”
P1040254

Goa-geous spring break!

After countless vacations at the various baby-powder beaches of Thailand, I have developed a serious case of Beach Snobitis. I have high expectations for cleanliness of sand and sea, pleasant water temperatures, spectacular panoramas, and local flavor. I also have little tolerance for drunken backpackers, cigarette butts, and loud late-night music. Stranded in India until certain visa issues get resolved, I grudgingly agreed to Spring Break on the beach in Goa with my friend Marianna. Generally an optimist, I was, nevertheless, prepared for disappointment.

We arrived Tuesday afternoon at H2O Agonda for five nights in a beachfront bungalow. Realizing our hut abutted the thatch-roofed restaurant, I immediately protested. Most beach hotels cater to the party crowd, and I am too old for that. Insomnia is my constant companion; I don’t need help from the hotel bar. Unfortunately, no other bungalows were available, so we moved in to the space, which is equally split between a bedroom and an open-air bathroom.

I’ll spare you the suspense: This place is wonderful! The loudest sound is the crashing surf. Aside from an occasional cow patty, the sandy beach is clean and mostly litter-free. At one end, boulders rise up in clusters, begging to be climbed. I splashed into the warm sea this morning to find turbulent water and powerful breakers, perfect for body surfing. Eventually worn out, I sat at the edge of the tide, drizzling wet sand onto my legs and letting the waves wash over me.

I guess I can handle this for a few more days.
H2O Agonda