A Day In The Life Of A Snoek Fisherman

By Padriac Gerety

I awoke at 4:30, my body protesting the lack of sleep. I was up at this uncivilized hour, long before the sun lazily crept above the horizon, because today was the day of the long awaited Snoek Derby.

Though tired, I was excited because despite my inexperience, Captain Plaatje of the Fulmar agreed to let me come onto his boat and try my luck at the derby. It was barely 5AM when I arrived at NamPort, but already the docks were bustling with activity. Crews of grizzled men and some women were scrambling to board their boats and be the first to leave. Some fishermen were noticeably slower than the rest, probably babelas from the night which was still upon us.

Soon we were all aboard and on our way; I could tell that I was the only newcomer and would have to learn quickly in order to keep up. The crew were a nice bunch as they tied up my line, lent me some finger-wraps, and showed me how snoek fishing was done. The concept is simple enough: all you need is some line and a hook with some shiny bits to attract the fish. When you find a suitable spot, throw the hook in and let it sink until you run out of line, then pull it up as fast as you can. It sounds easy, but when you get an actual bite, pulling the line up becomes very difficult.

The snoek are strong, the line is slippery, and soon my fingers were sore. Every once and awhile, I would get a strong bite that ended in disappointment as the fish would pop off the line just as it reached the surface. If you manage to get a snoek up onto the boat, the fun part still remains; whilst the fish thrashes wildly you must dangle it between your legs, grasp its 3 body with your thighs, and then use your hands to turn its head 90 degrees, breaking the neck. Be sure to avoid the mouth as these suckers have some sharp teeth.

Of course you can’t just throw in your line at any old time; you must wait for the right moment. Let me explain: the captain drives the boat around, using the depth finder and radar to search for a good spot. Once he finds one he’ll put the engine into neutral and that’s the cue to start fishing. If you throw in too early or leave your line in when the ship starts moving again, then it can snag on the propeller. You can guess how I figured this one out.

My time on the water lasted about seven hours, during which I noticed quite a few things about the whole process. As I struggled to catch anything, I looked around and wondered, “Are these guys fishing in the same water?” The real fishermen around me were pulling in fish one after another, with such frequency that few made any fuss when they got one. I, on the other hand, cheered every time I got a bite, and danced around with an actual catch. Far from battling the fish, it was clear that this was all routine; these men who had no problem bringing one in once it bit the hook.

As the derby wound down, someone showed me how to clean the fish and then salt it for later. My own movements with the knife felt clumsy and slow as I watched one fisherman carve up fish after fish with no sign of difficulty. I was glad to see Luderitz as we approached the harbour, exhausted from just one day of fishing. While I do not envy the fishermen, I have a newfound respect for them. They are good people doing a hard job, and they do it well.