Hawaiian Skin Diver Articles by Dan Silveira


Dan Silveira writes and takes photos for Hawaiian Skindiver Magazine. Pick up your copy today and reap the benefits of reading bout the secrets of epic spearfishing locations around the world. 

Here are various magazines that Dan has been published in:

My most recent articles are at the top of the page. They are in order from newest first to oldest last. ENJOY!

Secret Eden

The word of Baja

By Dan Silveira

Magazine Issue #49

During our drive down to Central Baja California, my friend, Al Schneppershoff, told me stories of shooting amazing fish in shallow water. One of them being about shooting a 91 pound broomtail grouper. Basically, they left the harbor at 8:30am on route to a remote island 18 miles from the dock. During the one hour boat ride, he prepped his gear and enjoyed the calm flat seas. Upon approaching the dive spot, the sun on his back was plenty of encouragement to suit up quickly and get into the water. Ten feet from the boat and only five minutes after loading his gun, the massive grouper appeared in front of him. Al made a ten foot dive and let the shaft fly. With his years of experience shooting fish, he placed a perfect shot rolling the fish over. “Stoned” he yelled to the boat driver as he pulled his prized fish up to the boat. At this point in his story I said “ya right”, but the story was true and Al had photos to prove it! Every baja restaurant we stopped at to eat had photos of Al, either with massive grouper, white seabass, or yellowtail. He is a legend in Mexico, and this got me all fired-up about potentially shooting a world record fish! 

Al has been leading spearfishing tours down to Baja for the past five years and in the short amount of time he has had 20 divers shoot their first white seabass, over 30 divers shoot their first yellowtail, 70 divers shoot personal best fish, and to top it all off, his spots have produced five IUSA world records!

Finally after diving for two long days, we arrived at our hotel. I quickly unpacked my stuff and asked Al if he could take me out for a short shore dive. After all, we needed some fish for dinner. Without a flinch, he said, “you read my mind, lets go.” Driving past fish camps and several huts build out of driftwood, I was able to see his secret spot where the dessert met the Pacific Ocean. He told me that the diving would be shallow, warm and loaded with fish. I swam out to about 15 feet of water and immediately, I was greeted by a school of 20 or more yellowtail. Most of them were small, so I watched to see if anything bigger was around. Once the school started swimming away, I decided that a small fish was better than no fish. I lined up a shot on a ten pound yellowtail when suddenly it bolted. I looked in the opposite direction and a 35 pounder was coming straight for the tip of my gun. I placed a good shot and the fight began. Handling a hot game fish in ten feet of water is not an easy task. I did everything possible to keep the fish of the bottom, and at one point I was seriously loosing the battle. The fish went under a ledge and was destroying my thin euro shaft. I dove down and bear hugged the fish when I had the chance. Already this shore dive was becoming a victory. 

During my battle with that yellowtail, I had seen several white seabass jet by at the edge of visibility. After I strung the fish on my belt, I reloaded my gun and made a dive at the edge of the reef. I used my Sporasub Sea Green wetsuit to blend in with the eel grass and waited. One minute into my dive I could see a massive school milling around in the sand. At 1:30 minutes, the school decided it was time to check me out. White seabass from 20 to 40 pounds were drifting by like a river stacked five fish deep and as far as the eye could see in either direction. I lined up on the closest fish and placed a clean shot. The slip-tip penetrated under the gill plate and out the upper lip. Virtually there was no hole in the fish, which translated into a great fight with only a reel on my gun. ZZZZZZZ ripped my reel as the fish took off towards deeper water. After 80 feet of line was stripped from my reel, the fish got tired and I pulled it up. The fish ended up weighing 34 pounds. At that point, it was time to call it a day, but as soon as I started swimming in, I saw a school of burrito grunts, the telltale sign of a potential grouper spot. I re-loaded my gun just in time to see a nice broomtail grouper. I stoned the fish with a perfect headshot, and that sealed the deal as one of the best shore diving days in my life!!! 

The next day, Al told me that we were going to go out to the same island, which he had speared his 91 pound grouper, from the story during the ride down. I was so excited I could hardly handle the one hour boat ride. As soon as we got there, the bait was busing the surface like I had never seen before. Miles of blue water was teaming with billions of sardines. I told the boat captain to stop the boat so I could jump in for a look. We were in about 200 feet of water, so I dove down to 50 feet where I could level out and assess the situation. It felt like the seas were parting as I kicked through layer and layer of thick bait. The fish had engulfed me and the light from above was fading towards darkness when suddenly the bait below me vanished! My senses went into hyper alert, I strained my eyes to the edge of visibility, and materializing from the depths came several massive yellowtail, rushing straight towards me. I extended my new O.ME.R 115cm Enclosed Track gun and shot the biggest fish of the group. About ten seconds after, a huge sea lion came bolting in to take my fish. I released all tension of the drag to my reel and let the fish run. Luckily, the yellowtail was much faster and I eventually had the last laugh as I grabbed the fish and watched the sea lion swim away with frustration. As I was getting back in the boat with my fish in tow, Al was grinning from ear to ear as he said; “looks like you got the skunk off the boat.” Now it was time to look for grouper. 

Al told me that if I wanted to shoot a 100 pound plus broomtail grouper without the fish diving deep into the caves, I would either have to either place a perfect shot, or shoot the fish away from the rocks in the sand. Since I had left all my backup shafts in the truck, I opted to hunt the sand.  Dive after dive, I saw silhouettes of big grouper near the rocks. I did everything in my power to lure them from the rocks. I threw sand, grunted, pulled long 2 minute dives, but nothing worked for me. Just as I finally gave up, I looked to my right, and I saw a massive divot, an indentation, from a huge halibut. When I surfaced, I yelled to Al. “Have you ever seen halibut here”? He replied “No”. I said, “I am about to change that, because I just saw a massive halibut divot”!!! Three dives later I spotted what ended up being one of the largest California halibut of all time. The fish spooked quickly and I struggled to line up a good shot on the flat undulating fish. Finally the halibut lifted its head, about 15 feet away from my speargun tip. This was my decisive moment when I had to pull the trigger. This was not a shot I had ever practiced before, so I let my instincts do the job. Fortunately, I placed a debilitating shot on the fish, but I could see that the slip tip was barely poking through the halibut’s bottom gill plate. I yelled to Jeremy, another diver on the trip, and asked him if I could use his gun for a second shot. I unloaded his 3 band gun and reloaded it myself, as per the IUSA record regulations, and finished the job on what ended up being a 21st century IUSA World Record California halibut at 51 pounds!!! 

Never in my life did I expect Al’s baja fairytale stories to become a reality for me also. This place was like the Garden of Eden and the day had only started.  We ended up shooting a few more yellowtail and it was time to look for some white seabass. We moved the boat to a thick kelp bead where the visibility was only about 15 feet. I made several dives spotting large yellowtail at the edge of the kelp, so I swam over to shoot some video. I made a dive to 30 feet and just as I stopped to clear my ears, a gigantic ghost materialized only 10 feet below me. I turned my Liquid Image camera on, hit the record button, and lined my speargun tip right behind its head. I pulled the trigger and the fish exploded, creating a loud tail boom that could be heard by all the divers in the area. Somehow I managed to keep the fish from tangling in the kelp by holding on for the ride, dogging kelp stringers, and managing my reel line at the same time. At one point I was pulled past one of the other divers, and noticed that he was lining up on the fish and about to take a shot. At first he did not notice that the fish was speared, so I grunted at him and smiled as I passed by. This was a classic and funny moment that could only happen when hunting in murky water. I had hoped that the swollen belly would amount to a heavy weight, but it was only the air bladder. If it had been a female, it would have broken the 70 pound mark due to the added weight of roe. The fish ended up weighing 62 pounds with a length of 58 inches but only had a girth of 27 inches. At this point it was a perfect time to call it a day. 

It is stories like these that I had always dreamt of experiencing. From books and magazine articles, youtube videos and DVD’s, the epic fairytales of legendary divers who had epic days kept me looking for that special day. Finally it happened to me and I had broken the 100 pound mark of two different species of California game fish speared in one day. A 51 pound halibut plus a 62 pound white seabass. To top it all off I managed to spear a yellowtail over 40 pounds also. While this was not achieved in California, it is still an accomplishment that I am super stoked about, and hopefully it will become a story that will motivate everyone who is reading this article. 

Till the next adventure, 

Dan Silveira


“The End Zone”

-Hunting at the Edge of Visability-

By Dan Silveira



            The mutation of a spearos life evolves from curious nature and primal instinct.  It all starts by shooting small reef fish with a pole spear but is soon overtaken by the addiction of bagging larger and more difficult fish. Over time each element of the dive becomes more refined and the hunter can see more than before. At once, everything floods the speros’ mind and disables their cognizant vision.  The stress that has wounded the divers craving for catching fish has been rejected by a series of events that overweigh his ability to respond normally. The cold water rushing into the suit, the snorkel taking his breath away due to the puddle of gurgling water left in the tube, the duck like fins on his feet, and the chop of the waves smacking into his face reminding him that he is purely on the edge! At this point, the spero cannot see any of the fish around him because supporting the basic necessities of human survival such as air, warmth, and adrenalin distracts his mind.

            Over time this haze of mental distractions fades as the body adapts to the aquatic world and the eyes of the spero begin to see the distant silhouettes of fish. This takes time, patience, and a good breath hold, but soon the diver begins to realize that the elusive fish can be lured in to range. Rather than thinking about how they are diving, their movements become honed and smooth like the water they are in. They glide with the current, sway with the swells, kick with ease and grace, slow the heart, and make non threatening, slightly appealing movements to the fish. All said and done these refined skills peek the curiosity of the fish that makes a fatal pass by the newly skilled hunter.

            Empty waters, lacking game fish, can be a disappointment to many. For me I am provoked with the possibly of having much larger fish appear at the edge of visibility – This is what I call “The End Zone”. This style of hunting, constantly straining to see what lurks beyond clarity, is what keeps me hunting for California white seabass and their distant counterpart wahoo. While these fish are very different by species and location, they share similar habits. Hunting white Seabass in the murky kelp matted ocean forests of California is just like hunting for wahoo, but without the kelp or murky waters. At times both of these fish can be curious and appear below the diver, like magic, without any notice or previous sightings. Other times, not so much. A diver may catch a glimpse far, far away and it is like art trying to lure them in for a shot.

My Experience hunting wahoo:

            Ghostly in name she drifts in and out of vision leaving one to wonder if they are dreaming. Built for speed she attacks bait fiercely, approaching speeds of 60 miles per hour, leaving a glittery path of scales, I fallow in pursuit. The juvenile fish school but the large ones become solitary. As this species grows in size they become exponentially harder for spearfisherman to harvest. Her kind flourishes in good numbers. Her tasty name is WAHOO!!!

            I love to hunt for wahoo because they can be a challenge to hunt, but they frequent moderate depths from the surface down to 50 feet. The flesh of the wahoo is smooth and buttery, mild to the pallet. The aftertaste is fresh and not fishy – a wonderful combination for sashimi.

            I had been drifting in the blue for a few hours with not much in site. I speared a few jacks to use for chum and moved to another location. This time the high spot rose from 180 feet gradually to 60 feet over a distance of 600 yards. This was perfect for a long drift and a potent chum line for wahoo. Chunk, chunk, chunk, I scraped pieces of flesh off the jack I had speared earlier. As I watched the white pieces of flesh sink, I threw a flasher to simulate frantic baitfish. Soon pieces of chum were disappearing at the edge of visibility. Questions started popping into my mind – where the chunks of chum simply sinking into oblivion, or were they being eaten by a predator (Shark or Wahoo)? Setting my nerves aside, I swam down with my speargun positioned for attack. My senses were heightened and my movements were precise. Approaching my target depth I leveled out, rotating my head like an owl side to side in each direction. It took a while for my eyes to adjust when suddenly a massive wahoo swam boldly towards my flasher. I lined up the shot and stopped! Often, in clear water, objects appear closer and larger then they actually are. I took four more kicks and when I felt like I was going to touch the fish, I fired the gun. I was astonished to see that the shaft traveled 18-20 feet from the tip of the gun before hitting the wahoo. The shaft penetrated all the way though the fish, slightly grazing the spine, sending it into an uncontrollable quiver. I thought that the fish was about 50 pounds when I first pulled the trigger but as I pulled it in closer to me, I realized that this fish was immense! The fish ended up weighing approximately 90 pounds. The day continued with excitement as me and my friends continued to bag several wahoo. Some were close and easy to spear, but most kept us shooting for “The End Zone”.

My experience hunting white seabass:

            From kelp stock to kelp stock I look into channels and kelp rooms. The light percolates though the thick layer of seaweed above me. Both the fish and I are on hyper alert while moving though the shadows. The “S” like swagger of this fish is unique. Body elongated for speed and tale like a broom for powerful bursts and sharp turns.  This creature blends into the water column like an illusion and is often hard to approach. They travel in schools up to forty pounds but after that they are mostly large females who prefer the solo journey. This prized fish is known as the California white seabass.

            My friends Nicole, Matt, and Max embarked from the California coast 30 miles off shore to Catalina Island, Anacapa Island, and Santa Cruz Islands. I shot 5 white seabass, 1 yellowtail, barracuda, halibut and many big calicos during this journey but one catch has imprinted a story in my mind for years to come.   

            On the last day of the trip I woke up feeling good about the dive. My breath holds had been improving during the 3 days and were averaging 2 minutes with air to spare. I slipped into the kelp bead and started working north towards the upper end of the kelp. Within minutes, I had a harbor seal fallowing me on every dive. The darn seal was spooking all the fish and about 30 minutes of not seeing anything due to the pesky seal, I decided to make one last dive and give up. I dropped down to 17 feet where I was neutral, looked to my right and there was the seal again swimming off! I proceeded to look downward and to my left when I saw a large shape approaching. At first I thought it must have been the seal, but within a fraction of a second, I realized that it was the biggest white seabass I had ever seen. My gun however was still positioned to the right, so I retracted the gun and turned toward the fish. By this point the white seabass was starting to quarter away from me, so I extended my gun and took an 18 foot shot. I hit the fish in the back third. I grabbed onto my 75 ft float line and went for the ride. I had only been down about 20 or 30 seconds when I shot the fish, so I had about 1 minute left in my breath hold. As I held onto my float line, I was towed at about 10 miles per hour out to the edge of the kelp, but suddenly the fish turned and swam over 100 feet towards the upper inside of the kelp. I continued to hold on as I was dogging many dense kelp strands. Finally at about 1:25 I decided to come up for air. When I surfaced, I took a quick breath and the fish took me back under. By this point I was in the thickest part of the kelp and it was becoming a bit nerve racking to be pulled back down. Wuapppp, I took a breath and down I went for another 15 seconds. Again, I came back up and took a breath, but this time I was stuck in the kelp. The fish continued to pull but I could not release my self from the seaweed to go back down. I let some line rush though my hands as I quickly pulled the kelp away from me. I took my final deep breath and the fish pulled me under again for about 10 seconds and came up though the kelp for the last time. The fish had pulled me over 150 feet under water and I was burned out and tired from the battle, but so was the fish. It continued to throb the line and pull; at this point it had wrapped itself in the kelp about 50 feet away from me. I slithered over the three foot dense layer of seaweed towards the outer edge, constantly threading my arms to keep from entanglement. About five minutes after I had shot the fish, I had finally put my hands on it and sent my knife into it skull. I had shot this fish at the far reach of my 130cm gun. The sporasub slip tip that I was using never penetrated though the entire fish, but did an exceptional job toggling inside the fish on the apposing side of the spine. I was lucky to have landed this fish considering the limited 20 foot visibility, size of the fish and layers of kelp. Without a doubt, this fish was at “The End Zone”

            As I was swimming back to the boat with the fish, I knew if was big, but never expected it to be the 8th largest in the world! When I got to the dock, I weighed the white seabass on a certified scale and it was 76 pounds!!! 

A fish of a lifetime!!!

Dan Silveira

"Team USA vs. The World"

By Dan Silveira and John Modica

Cover shot - Dan Silveira - Photo by Christina Macfarlane

Talented divers across the U.S.A. are brought together in different ways, but competitive spearfishing brings a different dimension to the sport. Competition pushes these divers to constantly improve and refine their skills at an accelerated rate. Thousands of divers dedicate countless hours of scouting, training, and tournament diving to secure a spot in the U.S.A. National competition with hopes of placing high and making it to the Worlds competition. The scores of every National competitor are compiled every two years to determine who will make it to the Worlds team. There will be three divers and an alternate. The Worlds competition is the highest level of organized spearfishing in the sport. 

            For the 2010 Worlds, four fortunate young divers were selected to represent our Nation. Justin Allen, Dan Silveira, Sean Morschi, and John Modica. Together, they are one of the youngest teams to ever achieve this undertaking.

The team met for the first time in Rhode Island, in the 2008 U.S. Nationals where Justin Allen took 1st place, Dan Silveira took 2nd place and John and Sean were on the winning team. They met again in the 2009 Nationals, in Malibu (California), where tensions were high. In order for them to make it to the Worlds team, they needed to have high scores again. Fortunately for the young divers, they all achieved their goal and are now representing the U.S.A. in the 2010 worlds spearfishing competition and again raising the bar! 



Justin Allen

Hometown: Pembroke, Massachusetts

             “Watch out for Justin Allen,” John Murphy wrote in his Hawaii Skindiver interview after winning the 03 Nationals.  “He’s young, hungry, and good.  He could be winning these things in a few years.”  A few years later, having won consecutive National titles, I’m glad to have made that prediction a reality. (2008 Individual National Champion, 2009 National Team Champion, 1st Place individual Qualifier for Worlds)

             My diving experience, spanning 15 years, began at the age of eight and I have been competing in the North Atlantic Region since 2000.  I entered the Nationals for the first time in Rhode Island in 2003.  The following year the defending National Champs invited me to Hawaii for an invaluable experience scouting with the team.  That sparked in me, an exponential growth in the sport, which culminated with an Individual National Title in 2008.  My good fortune of diving with the best then continued in 09 as I teamed with Bob Humphrey and Dennis Haussler to take National Team honors and step on the podium once again with a Third Place Individual finish. 

            My passion for the sea developed at an early age and I have always structured my life around it.  I’ve worked in a dive shop, been a commercial lobsterman, commercial spearfisherman, harbormaster, and interned for On The Water, a nationally televised fishing program and magazine, which featured me in both venues.   As a graduate of Massachusetts Maritime Academy I currently work as a Third Mate in the Gulf of Mexico.   

            It’s truly an honor representing Team USA in the greatest sport in the world and I couldn’t be happier with the talented, dedicated team we have.  I’m looking forward to making the most of this adventure and remaining a presence in the spearfishing community as a competitor and promoter of the sport for many years to come.

Dan Silveira

Hometown: Half Moon Bay, California

            Skyscrapers piled into a seven-mile radius with cultures from all around the world and guarded by a golden bridge, San Francisco, was where I started my life journey. My name is Dan Silveira, and for most of my younger years I grew up in an urban city. Finding my pace amongst the hustle and bustle was difficult. Being a gangbanger, punk rocker, or pro basketball player did not fit my style. My craving for the sea led me on a weekly habit of skateboarding to the beach, hoping that someday I would be able to travel the world and dive every part of the globe. I soon moved to a small town 30 minutes South of San Francisco, called Half Moon Bay, where surfing and fishing is a way of life. Through high school I was always fishing, diving, or surfing. My identity as an individual was finally forming by the activities I enjoyed in the ocean. 

            After high school and a short term with the United Stated Coast Guard, I wanted to travel the world, continue my education, and focus my energy in what I love – freediving. Immediately I went to work at a dive center to learn the inns and out’s of the industry. I became a SCUBA instructor and learned the refined art of spearfishing, videography, photography and writing from David Laird. Shortly after, I traveled to Fiji, Hawaii, Mexico, Portugal, Indonesia, Panama, the Caribbean and more. Now I go back and forth from college to work, to the ocean. I am constantly busy learning the art of business, and on my free time I am learning to become a better freediver and spearfisherman. From the sea, I have learned independence, appreciation for Mother Nature and a passion for life.

            I got to where I am today by working hard and being the best that I could be. During tough times, I stayed true to who I am and what I wanted. I was hungry to learn and I never gave up. I am excited for everyone in the sport of freedive spearfishing because it is a challenging sport that has tremendous opportunity for growth. I remember catching my first fish and being just as excited as I am now to spear a 200 pound yellowfin tuna. For everyone reading this, I want to say thank you for being a part of this wonderful community of divers.

Sean Moreschi

Hometown: Charlestown, Rhode Island.

            I was always attracted to the ocean, whether it be fishing, boating or swimming. I was introduced to spearfishing in New England at the age of 14.  From the beginning I was hooked on the sport and dove as often as possible.  Growing up in Connecticut, I was fortunate enough to spend most of my summers by the ocean in Rhode Island.  At the age of 19, I had the chance to spend 5 weeks diving in Fiji. I decided to attend college at the University of Rhode Island so I could be closer to the water year round.  After completing my Bachelors of Science in Aquaculture and Fisheries Technology at URI, I decided to stay and live in Rhode Island.  In order to prolong my spearfishing season, over the past few years I have spent a couple winter months working and diving in Florida.  I have been competitively diving since 2000 and have competed in two US National Competitions. Now, at the age of 24, with over a decade of surreal experiences while diving, it is still my primary passion. Spearfishing is no longer a hobby for me. It is a way of life. 

John Modica

Hometown: Pomfret, Connecticut

            I developed a passion for the ocean when I was a kid by spending every summer on the shores of Rhode Island, when at the ripe age of fourteen; my neighbor introduced me to spearfishing. I loved it so much that I would spend entire summers harvesting fish for my friends and family. A pastime I would not trade for anything else.

Over the years my interests in spearfishing have become more professional. At age 15, the thought of standing on the podium with free gear and a spearfishing trophy appealed to me, but the interesting verdict was that it was not the winning that drew me to competitions, rather the friendships I developed over the years.  Local fundraisers, club meetings and trips abroad created a biography to my life that seemingly changed the direction in ways that I couldn’t be more appreciative for. I never realized the full potential of being a top National competitor until a local diver told me, my team and I could possibly win a national title. In 2008 my team consisting of Mike Marino, Sean Moreschi, and I took first pace as a team in Rhode Island. The following year we went to California to defend our title and although we didn’t take first, the experience was one in a lifetime.

The Worlds…

The 2010 CMAS world spearfishing competition will be held from September 14th – 19th in Mali Losinj, Croatia. In order to be competitive in this arena, divers in the competition will produce the highest scores of fish by diving 100+ feet and do it repetitively during two days of competition. The USA Team has never hunted these depths during US national competitions, and this will require a tremendous amount of training.

            Dan initiated the task of developing and strengthening the team’s skills by participating in a Level I freediver Course put on by Freediving Instructors International (FII) and taught by founder of FII, Martin Stepanek. (http://www.freedivinginstructors.com/) Martin Stepanek is a multiple world record holder in freediving disciplines and is a great teacher. During the course, Dan made several dives past 100 feet including a dive to 132 feet. It was an eye opening experience for Dan, where he learned many unknown dangers of the sport and the necessity for safety support, particularly diving with a partner.

After Dan completed the first course with Stepanek, he called the rest of his team to coordinate dates for the entire team to train with Stepanek. In December ‘09 the Worlds team met up in Florida to take part in the Level II Freediver Course. The team was fortunate as FII was kind enough to sponsor the USA Spearfishing Team for the Level II Freediver class.

Team divers Justin, Dan, John, and Sean were all present for the class. John, Justin and Sean drove down from New England and Dan flew in from California. Florida native,  and Team Captain, Brian Lee is a certified FII Instructor and he sat in on the class. The goal of the class was to become a better, deeper and safer spearfishing team.


            They all trained hard, in the classroom, in the pool, in the ocean, in the rain, in rough ocean conditions, in the blistering hot sun, and in perfect conditions. Every diver made 140 + foot dives with air to spare. The four divers worked as a single unit, constantly refining their skills with Martin’s unsurpassed knowledge of proper safety, and proper gear. To become a cohesive unit like they have become, they worked to understand the signs and body language of each other, constantly evaluating every dive before making another dive. After the course with FII they were full of excitement and encouragement to continue the training on their own.

        With Scuba Diving, you have to take safety training before you even get into the waterwith a tank, yet when it comes to freediving, very few freedivers ever take a class before donning a mask and fins. Often the dangers of freediving are overlooked or worse, unknown to the novice diver. Freediving is a sport that has several inherent risks, it is extremely important to be aware of the dangers, and to know how to minimize them. Taking a class that clearly explains the proper way to freedive efficiently and safely will ultimately make a better spearfisherman. Learning what Martin has to teach was both a lot of fun and rewarding.

            Being that the USA team was in Florida and they had a mouth watering craving for fish, they decided it was time to fill their bellies with big tropical fish of Florida.  So after a great four days at the FII class in Fort Lauderdale they were fortunate enough to meet up with the Speardivers crew in the Florida Keys (http://www.speardivers.com/home.html). Speardivers is a television show about spearfishing and preparing fish for the table that airs in Miami and the Florida keys. 

            The team met up with Joe Forcine and business partner Kevin Suthard from Speardivers who collaborated with SeaSquared charters (Captain Chris Johnson) (http://www.seasquaredcharters.com/) The objective was for the US team to spear some nice fish for dinner and get it all on video. With Forcine and Suthard filming, Captain Chris put everyone on a nice reef in 70-80 feet of water. There were quite a few fish around but they also had to contend with a strong current and some big bull sharks. All these variables had their hearts racing and it was crucial to use the skills learned in the class to dive effectively. Justin and Dan were a pair and Sean and John were a second pair. They immediately started their routine of proper warm-ups followed by perfect spotting and the day had begun.

            On Dan’s first dive he was greeted by a ten-foot bull shark. He stayed calm and sat motionless on the bottom. The large bull shark finally faded into the distant haze as a nice sized mutton snapper approached him. With a quick squeeze of the trigger, Dan took a long shot and sent the fish into a rolling quiver. Upon ascending the fish got logged under a ledge. Dan’s safety diver, Justin, met him at 30 feet and proceeded to count Dan’s contractions and evaluate his posture. Finally after a long dive they surfaced and took needed breaths. Soon the other divers cam over, due to the constant battle with big bull sharks, and they added another couple sets of eyes as Justin descended to the bottom some 70 feet below. Working like a team, as one unit, proved that the training with Stepanek was a success. The divers had trained their muscle memory and worked like a well-oiled machine. And of course they landed some fish and got good footage for the Speardivers TV show.           

            The trip and the course were just the beginning of the team’s journey to the worlds. On the drive home from Florida Justin, Sean, and John were almost buried in the snowstorm that dumped 2-4 feet of snow between the Carolina’s and Massachusetts. Since being back in their hometowns, the guys have been training using Martin’s techniques both in and out of the water. And they will continue to strengthen their abilities as the CMAS worlds competition approaches.


For more information about the U.S.A. Spearfishing Team please visit us at www.spearfishingisnotacrime.com/2010worldsspearfishingwww.usaspearfishing.com, our page on Spearboard and facebook .  Show your support for the team! T-Shirts are available now. Send us a message on Facebook or Spearboard for more info. 

“A Pirates Bounty”

By Dan Silveira


            “Yo! Ho! Yo! Ho! A spearo’s life for me”.  We train, prepare, explore, and we travel, in search for the bounty that can only be found in the sea. As the primal instinct of harvesting wild game fades into legendary stories, due to urban cities, countries and nations, my friends and I embark on a trip to fill our coolers with modern day gold!

            Man-O-War, he lays on the surface “arrrrgwaiting” the battle, he craves the primitive impulse to hunt and kill his prey. We are committed to the chase; so let the bloody decks begin. We were in search of “Pieces of Eight”, the ultimate catch one can harvest. To complete our undertaking we needed: yellowtail, barracuda, bonito, halibut, sheephead, mackerel, calico bass, and lobster. For a spearfishermen to land each of these fish in one weekend shows their true ability to hunt varied species in different terrain. If we can fill the “Pieces of Eight”, then we will be rewarded with lots of pirate’s Booty!

            Perfectly still, I lay on the bottom at 65 feet, my eyes twitching from side to side while anticipating game fish. Soon, to my upper right I spotted a wall of fish approaching – Pacific bonito, perfect for midnight sashimi. I lifted off the bottom, leaving a puff of sand behind my fin tips for curious sheephead to investigate. I took aim on the approaching school and with a quick squeeze of the trigger I sent the leader of the pack into a rolling quiver. The following fish were left in a state of confusion while my diver partner, Matt Davidson ambushed the school again from above with a 60 inch shaft into the back of another bonito. We drew our knives, slipping the tip behind the gills filling the sea with red. The first “Pieces of Eight” had been achieved, but only an hour later Matt had a 10 foot great white shark swim below him.

            Un-phased by our presence the shark swam with bold sweeps of its tail. Matt drew his gun on the shark as he retreated to the boat. We were no longer at the top of the food chain. The great white shark is the ultimate apex predator surrendering any and all creatures of the ocean. While the late summer is the best time to hunt yellowtail, it is also the time of the year when the sharks come to the coast of California to feed. The West End of Catalina Island plummets to beyond 1000 feet deep, only a few hundred yards from shore. This is a perfect spot for white sharks to feed on adolescent sealions.


            This mantra echoes across the San Pedro Channel from Catalina Island. The first of October coincides with the beginning of lobster season as well as the “Buccaneers Party”.  Each year the sound of cannons roar through Two Harbors as 5,000 people show up on the beaches dressed as pirates.

            Buckets of “pirates grog”, a mixture of fruity rum with a punch, are dipped into as the pirates and wenches dance wildly into the night. For three days the partying continues into the night as divers dawn their wetsuits with hopes of bagging lobster for breakfast. Whether it be thousands of dollars worth of diving equipment or elaborate costumes, this festival has its place for every madman. Ahoy Matey!!! 

            Diehards cross the 20 mile gap between California and Catalina Island on sailboats, powerboats, or by ferry. The boats stack into the small cove of Two Harbors like cordwood. A “diver down flag” is a must when diving among the chaos of drunken sailors buzzing around in dinghies while they pillage drinks from other unlikely boats. Once ashore the pirates entertain even the most reluctant party pooper. The restaurant serves ½ pound local buffalo burgers and french-fries to calm the hangovers that plague the town. There are various bands playing a mixture of music ranging from bluegrass to hip-hop for the down and dirty grinders!

           Only two centuries past its time, many of these modern-day pirates and wenches are older than they act, but the pirates who seek younger booty will find plenty of young college students to fill even a modest pirate chest. In the good old days of yore, there would have been battles for the hottest girls, but during this event everyone is too drunk to even tell the difference. Rather than wearing an eye patch, the pirates choose beer goggles as a replacement, awakening in the arms of someone they don’t even know.

            Alast, me scurvy dogs and I prepare for night diving as the moon rises above us. Many a lie be told that lobster march out of the caves by the hundreds on a full moon, but that must only be in the preserves, because we did not see anything of that nature. To the contrary, the lobster hunting this year was tough. We crammed ourselves deep into the rocks only to harvest a few bugs. At $15 per pound California spiny lobster is a seafood delicacy that lives beneath the kelp forests in tight crack systems along coastal reefs. 

            Far from the Barbary Coast, where the Mediterranean coastline of North Africa, Egypt, and the Atlantic coastline collide, I am left alone to plunder the treasures in my own backyard.  I find myself grinning once again, as I slip beneath the surface for another look. Where many spearo’s have to hunt for hours diving beyond 100 feet to find small fish, we have only to open our eyes and we are engulfed with bait where large game fish zip by every few minutes.


            Before the night dive began, we had a few hours before the lobster season opened. We used the time wisely and hunted for mackerel, soon to find ourselves seeing dark spots in the sand, otherwise known as “halibut”.  I like to think of the halibut as “olives in a martini glass”.  As the evening hours approach, the halibut darken in camouflage, but armed with a high-powered flashlight they stand no chance.  The sand is white and the halibut are brown. In less than an hour, I had shot three mackerel and four halibut, Tom Fiene shot one flattie, and Matt shot the big boy. We quickly threw the fish into the cooler on the beach and revitalized our spirits as lobster season approached. We swam like mad men through the mooring buoys, boats and anchor lines to a hole I knew. When midnight struck we all took deep breathes, raced to the bottom each grabbing a lobster. Shortly after we had a few in the sack, the lobster knew the season had opened and they retreated to their homes. We continued into the night until our skin was pruned and wrinkly.

            The campfire warmed our bones as we cooked lobster and halibut on the grill. We made some bonito sashimi along with ceviche from the mackerel. Ceviche is marinated in a citrus-based limejuice mixture with salsa. The citric acid causes the proteins in the seafood to become denatured, and cooks the fish without heat. We ate until we were content and hit the sack for an early morning dive the next day.

            At 7:00 am we awoke to a picturesque view from the tent. The cove was quiet and the ocean was still. We suited up and motored out to a pinnacle that usually holds barracuda and yellowtail. The current was ripping and it took continuous kicking just to stay in place. I made a few dives and not before long I had speared a couple good sized California barracuda. This fish is not to be confused with the toothy Caribbean barracuda, which are not often used as table fare. This barracuda is great for fish tacos, and a favorite among the locals.

            As I swam towards the drop off where yellowtail frequent, I heard my friend Barry Krupp yell “yellowtail!!!”.  He had seen a school of about 30 fish below him but did not get a shot.  It was good now we knew the yellows were still around. We dove for a few more hours and soon Tom was hooked up to a nice 28 pound yellowtail. The school had returned and presented Tom with an easier shot. We now had one fish on the boat but after a couple more hours of hunting we had not seen any more.

            We relocated to a spot I had shot yellowtail before. I made a descent to 30 feet and continued on a motionless glide to 55 feet.  I turned to my left and out of the gloom came a school of eight, large yellowtail, heading straight for me.  I faced the fish, keeping my profile small, extended the gun and just as I was about to pull the trigger, the school turned around. I repositioned my gun and fired at the biggest fish before they got away.  I had a good shot, but the fish fought determinedly.  Shortly after, we had two nice yellowtail on the boat and it was almost time to call it a day.

            The last spot we went to was a rock that protrudes out of the water one mile off the coast.  I made several dives to 80 and 100 feet shooting many large calico bass and even a 20 pound sheephead. I called the other divers over to show them my catch and soon Matt was back at the boat with a 23 pound sheephead. We were now ready to receive our booty. 

            We had accomplished our mission “Pieces of eight”. We managed to spear; yellowtail, barracuda, bonito, halibut, sheephead, mackerel, calico bass, and catch a handful of lobster. The final shot across the bow bellowed through the coves of the island as we ate a feast fit for kings symbolizing the closing to a trip that will be remembered for years to come.


Dead fish tell no tales, only the ones who capture them.

Written by Dan Silveira

No prey, No Pay!!!!!  

Pirates Jargin:

Argh—The first word in any pirate’s vocabulary.  This word is used to punctuate any sentence. 

Buccaneer—Pirates who menaced the Spanish of the Caribbean. 

Aye—Yes or any other affirmative reply. 

Ye— Used in place of “you”.

Me—Used in place of “my”. 


Pieces of Eight—Spanish coins held by only the best pirates. (In the story – Symbolizes the difficulty in spearing 8 different species of fish).

Scurvy Dog =  a prolific Pirate (in the story – A prolific spearfisherman).

Hulk—British prison ships that captured pirates and privateers. 

Red Ensign—British flag. 

Scuttle—To sink. 

Cackle Fruit—Hen’s eggs. 

Barbary Coast—The Mediterranean coastline of North Africa, from Egypt to the Atlantic coastline. 

Man-of-War—A vessel designed and outfitted for battle. (In the story – a diver outfitted for battle).

“Ahoy, Matey”— Hail, fellow sailor.

“No prey, no pay”—Crew received no wages, but shared in whatever loot was taken.

“Run a shot across the bow”—Command to fire a shot.

"The Game"

By Dan Silveira

Issue #41

Drifting in deserted waters I wondered where the fish had gone.For hours I lay alone on the surface like a floating log missing land. Fifty miles from shore, I strained my sun-kissed eyes to dance with the light as I calmly pumped my fins back and forth during my long descent. Once I hit the river of chilled water, a thermocline, I looked up to see a shoal of frantic mackerel swimming back toward me. I took aim on a 150-pound Yellow fin tuna, finding my mark, as it passed in front of my spear tip. As my friends and I always say, “If you play the game and put in your time, the fish will find you,” and that’s what happened.

There is something that occurs while playing the game. You get better!!! There are hundreds of details happening while we are spearfishing and it is up to the diver to decipher what they mean and how to use the data. During one of my most epic spearfishing trips to Mexico, I was finally able to put this information into some kind of strategy. There are only a handful of things to focus on, but they have a way of looking different each time.

-Rules of the Game-


“ I was in the right spot at the right time.” Is that just luck or was there some reason for the coincidence??? Finding structure is at the top of my list. I spend countless hours on my computer looking at marine charts to determine where the best structure is. Mountains underwater offer a hierarchy of life starting with the smallest organisms and fish mounting up to the massive predators like tuna, marlin and sharks. Fish can be found in open water, but it is such a gamble for me to spend all my time hunting in the vast blue. I like using a combination of deep blue next to large underwater structures that allow me to bounce back and forth until I find the fish.I imaging these underwater mountains like a flowing river, it gives me a better picture of where the fish will be and how the bait will arrange themselves. The currents may seem to go one way, but underwater eddies and back currents allow pelagic fish to hunt their prey with ease. Tuna will follow these underwater rivers to navigate circles around a series of ridges and pinnacles. I finally figured the time laps and the specific spots the tuna would return to!!!


While on the surface waiting for my next dive I constantly scan above water, triangulating my position and looking for diving birds. Frantic baitfish being attacked from both underwater and by diving frigates will signal that the fish are on their way. I quickly tuck my head back into the water as to not miss anything and re-position myself – focusing on every changing variable possible. If the bait fish disappear from below me, I know something big is going to arrive in less than 15 seconds. I tuck my gun against my body like a soldier at attention, always keeping aware of my float line. To shoot a 200-pound fish while rapped in my line could result in my last moments alive. There are 4 sets of bait that I found where I was hunting. The outer most bait consisted of bonito, and blue back mackerel; these fish were franticly racing around and were never in the exact same spot. Fallowing the outer bait was a wall of small pepper jacks and smaller mackerel. As I drifted closer to the pinnacle I would start to see the reef fish in the distance and occasionally a mass of large schooling horse-eye jacks.

- Current -

Knowing where the bait is will also allow me to know the depth ranges I am covering. As I move closer to the reef fish I know the bottom is rising, and I need to get back up current into the deeper water. The current usually gets stronger as the water gets shallower, so it always helps to stay in deeper water and use the moon phases to your advantage. The currents are strongest when there is no moon or full moon. When the moon is half the currents are the lightest. I usually prefer to dive somewhere in between. Without current the fish get lazy and are harder to find. When there is lots of current the fish are moving around constantly, but staying in the hot spot is almost impossible. The types of fins I choose are critical to not using up all my energy and oxygen. I like to dive with fiberglass or carbon fiber fins. They are much softer then plastic but have much more response.

- Equipment -

Once I have a hand on my surroundings, I can focus my efforts on my equipment. I know that chasing fish is often impossible, so I do everything in my capabilities to attract the fish to me. I always use camo because the fish see in contrast, not color, so the most important thing to do, is break up your shape. I used different types, colors, and patterns depending on if I am hunting reef or in the blue. They all help. I use camo fins from time to time, or I will add reflective tape. The shimmering light will often bring hunting fish in for a closer look. To further my chances, I use a mirrored mask to keep the fish from seeing my eyes. Sometimes it is extremely difficult to constantly scan the edge of visibility, causing me to get lazy and I will find myself staring just a few inches in front of my mask at pieces of floating debris. I like to throw a shiny circular disk in front of me and watch it sink. This gives me a point of reference so I can re-establish my depth perception. When hunting tuna a big speargun is necessary. Having a gun that can shoot 20 feet and still penetrate a 200-300 pound fish is ideal. Three to six bands offers 250-500 pounds of thrust to the shaft.

- The Last Day -

I found myself getting on the boat alone this morning. The sky was glowing with orange as the sun came up while the 34 foot boat started the journey, heading 30 miles off shore to the tuna grounds. The ocean had been so rough the day before that one of the prop supports broke. The captain told me we would have to go at ½ speed, but I didn’t want to give up, so we pushed on for the next 3 hours. The morning started off rough like the day before, and I was wondering what I was doing out there all alone, but within an hour the ocean started to flatten out and the clouds moved away. It was time to play the game.

I continued to make drifts until I found the perfect order of bait in a location that was perfect for tuna. The solitude of diving alone turned into a guilty pleasure as I slipped off the back of the boat for another drift. For a moment, I felt a sensation of success, when a just few moments later I caught glimpse of tuna below me. I took a deep breath and started a perfect descent to 60 feet. My goal on this dive was to position myself at the edge of the school allowing the tuna to swim to me. This is a process that takes time, so I was ready for a 1:45 minute dive. I pitched my left leg out of the water using the other to propel me down in silence. I calmly trusted my fins back and forth as I sank into the school of tuna. I watched the fish behind me by peaking through the gap between my arm and my body. Soon fish would materialize out of the haze fifty feet away. The endless school of giants continued their path closer to me. The one I had been waiting for parted from the group and swam directly below me. I quickly kicked 3 more times to fill the gap, and pulled the trigger as the fish was quartering away.There was an explosion of bubbles as my float line arched away from me. During my ascent from 60 feet, what normally feels like 20 seconds, felt like eternity. I knew my shot was perfect, but I questioned my certainty and I couldn’t help but wonder just how big the fish was.

Upon hitting the surface, I threw the bands of my gun over my shoulder and proceeded to swim with my arms and legs to catch up to my prized catch. Within moments I was at my buoy pulling line in, hand over hand, as if there were no end. When hunting tuna I prefer to use bungee rather than standard line. The bungee gives gradually rather then a harsh stop, possibly tarring the fish. Soon, I could see shimmers of color below me so I yelled to the boat for another gun. Being that I was alone, I did not want to take any risks so I felt that a second shot would be wise even though I had a great shot. The boat captain threw me my Omer 130 cm gun. I loaded it and started the descent to 65 feet where I sent a spine tingling shot into the fish. The game was now over. I grabbed the 175-pound tuna and horsed the dead weight to the surface.

Over the next two hours, what happened was beyond my wildest dreams. I shot 3 more tuna up to 150-pounds. The last fish was the most insane battle I had ever experienced yet. I saw a school of large fish come into view, so I dropped into the center of the school at 50 feet. The large tuna were everywhere, above, below, to the right, to the left, leaving me wondering which one to spear. After about one minute, I took aim on the closest one. I squeezed the trigger and sent the fish booming to the bottom. To my astonishment, I pulled the fish right back up. I yelled to the boat again for a back up shot, as they threw me the second gun. I loaded it quickly and made a 40-foot drop, but just as I grabbed the line the fish had a sudden urge to run. The reverberation of the float line roared as the fish sounded into the vast sea of fading light. I held on to the line tightly as the fish towed me into the abyss. I lined up and pulled the trigger just as my ears were about to explode. I ducked away from the lines as one of my buoys came zipping past me. This was not supposed to happen when a second shot is placed. This fish was on steroids and had no intension of giving up now. With two buoys tombstoned for a few moments, I wondered if the fish was bigger then I thought. For the next half an hour the fish pulled me in circles creating a tangled mess of float lines. With this knotted mess of lines I knew the risk grew increasingly, with every circle the large tuna made.

Reluctantly, I yelled to the captain for another gun; however, there was a problem… We did not have another float line and the shaft was set up to breakaway from the gun. With a moment to think, the captain rigged the shooting cable to a fishing line on a fishing pole, and casted it to me. I loaded the gun and he free spooled the line as I made the 30-foot drop. BANG I shot the fish a third time finally slowing it down.

I grabbed the fish, but just as my hand touched the shaft the fish exploded for one final run. Normally I would have simply let the fish go, but with the mass of tangled line behind me, I was committed to holding on until I killed the tuna. I angled the fish upward as we exploded from the water onto the surface. The boat captain was yelling with excitement, as we thrashed back and forth. Somehow, I managed to get my arm inside the gill-plate and my legs wrapped around the tail, but this did not stop it either. Like a pro baseball player using my inner thighs for batting practice the 150-pound tuna turned my once white thighs into a couple of swollen purple eggplants. I gasped for air and yelled for the captain to reel me in (due to the pain in my legs). He leaned back and reeled hard. He had to pull me, the fish, and the tangled nest of lines, back to the boat. Finally the captain grabbed me and pulled me into the boat for some much needed rest. This time the game was truly over as we laughed about the incredible battle I had just experienced.

With the surge of the tides calming my heart rate to a slow thump, my eyes strain past the tiny particles of debris that float only 6 inches from my mask. The urge to relax and focus only a few feet in front of me sends my motionless body into a state of trance. Time becomes a distant idea of imagination leaving me indulged by the sea. I am wrapped in camouflage and armed with a piece of steal. Only few will ever understand the aspiration freedivers seek away from the chaos on land. We are left alone to play the game!!! This article is dedicated to my friend Paolo Domeniciwho was lost recently at sea while freediving. May he find calm waters and big fish to spear.

"The One that NEVER got away"
By Dan Silveira 
Issue #39

    Stories of the one that got away, can often lead to great experiences that are a host of knowledge, skill and a bit of humble pie.  However, there are times when everything lines up in one’s favor, and it is like magic. I can say that I have had my fair share of fish that have gotten away, but I know from experience that I have not seen it all. I wanted to speak with a couple of legendary divers to see what they had to say. Possibly there was something I could learn and share. The process I discovered from Carl Krupanski, Bonnie Row, and myself was that teamwork, preparation, and attention to detail leads to success.

    Most of Carl Krupansky’s life has been a path of competitive spearfishing. Carl is now 74 years old and he is still competing as if time only makes him better. His most memorable story started on the Islands of Italy, Filicudi Island, in 1969. It was the moment he had been waiting for, The World Spearfishing Competition.

The Story of Carl Krupansky:

    My teammates were Terry Mass and Don Barthman. Our alternate divers were El Ellis and Bob Wright. We had been competing together for years and winning many of the National competitions. We were selected as the US team to compete in the World’s. There were a total of 120 divers and 35 teams that entered the competition. We were told that the competition could end up on any of the four islands out there: Isola di Salina, Isola di Lipari, Isola di Filicudi or Isola Panarea. The competition officials would determine the spot to hunt the day before the meet.  This meant that we had a lot of scouting to do on each island. Creating an archive of underwater locations, we worked hard triangulating our spots and taking notes that documented depth, direction of tides and currents, moon fazes, clarity, and water temperature. This was only the tip of the iceberg. The hard part would be learning how to interpret it on the fly. We got a 20-foot inflatable and started to scout Filicudi Island. We made repetitive dives from 60 to 115 feet with our 7mm wetsuits, 20 pounds of lead and Churchill fins. With only 2 weeks left to scout, Terry Mass was run over by a boat splitting his knee wide open. He was sent to the emergency room for stitches and we did not know if he was going to be able to dive the meet. 

    After one month of scouting every day for 8-10 hours the decision was made to dive Isola di Salina. Hours of scouting lead me to this point. It was the moment of truth. With a few deep breaths, I packed my lungs and started my descent. My heart worked hard to clam my excited body. This made it even harder to hold my breath. I needed to get down to 90 feet but at 30, I felt like I was running out of time. The crystal waters can be deceptive when trying to reach these deep depths. The grouper I had scouted positioned his head out of the hole to investigate what had just landed on its roof. I glanced over the rock, lined up for the shot and let the shaft fly. At first the fish looked stunned but with the turn of his head, it bolted back into the cave dragging me in with it. At this point I was committed to get the fish out. I quickly maneuvered out of the cave and I placed my fins on the rocks surrounding the entry. Hand over hand, I struggled to gain any line back. With time running out I began to kick for the surface. Finally I could see the clouds of sand billowing out of the cave as the fish followed. Some 3 minutes later I hit the surface with a 50 pound grouper in hand. This ended up being the biggest fish in the Competition and a moment I will never forget. As a team we came in 4th. I came in 11th individually and Don Barthman came in 7th. 

    The guns we had were not as strong as the European ones and we learned that U.S guns lacked power at that time. With the clear water we needed to get exceptionally close to the fish. It would have been nice to shoot a gun with longer range. To place high in a competition of this caliber, it was all about scouting, knowing the area and working as a team player. We trained hard, worked out and dived every day. We were able to dive any depth we wanted from 20 out to 100 feet deep. In fact many of the big fish were found on deep reefs far from shore.  

    I always thought of Bonnie Row as a friend and an inspiration to the diving community. Although she is no longer with us, I recorded her stories a couple weeks before her passing and assured her that I would match my words with her experience. I wanted to know about her most memorable catch; the one that never got away.

The Story of Bonnie Row: 

    Standing in the low fog, Janis Smith and I were thankful that we were the only ones on the beach of Stillwater Cove. This is a treasured spot for divers in central California. The beautifully mowed green grasses of Pebble Beach Golf Course meets a calm protected bay, which we were about to dive. It is a haven where large deep-water fish can come to feed. On this day the ocean was all ours to enjoy.

    The fish we were targeting was a prehistoric looking fish, the lingcod. They are among the biggest fish to hunt in this area and we knew how to hunt them.  We launched our kayaks from the beach and made the 300 yard paddle to a secret hole. These fish are creatures of habit, so we knew that a good hole would produce fish month after month. Lingcod hunting is a direct result of knowing how to hunt holes with a flashlight. 

    The easiest way to find blues and blacks is during spring or winter when the kelp is thin. The last standing kelp will be the thickest and strongest. This usually signifies that there is a rocky pinnacle below which the kelp has rooted onto. Pinnacles are a favorite habitat for blues and blacks to swim above. Usually the drop offs will be like Swiss cheese stuffed with predators in every other hole.

    As I descended into the misty shadows some 30 feet below, I recognized the tell tales signs of schooling blue rock fish scared with white flesh. These are among the best signs a hunter can use to find lings. The lingcod is a fierce creature by nature. They lay on rock-strewn ledges waiting for the brainless blues to come by as they lunge for attack. Their jaws are loaded with sharp teeth that deliver a powerful crunch. It takes a keen eye to see small details that lead to a successful day hunting in the murky waters of California. 

    It was not long before I found the hole I had been looking for.  I flipped the switch of my flashlight and peeked into the crack, only to be greeted by the eyes of a large lingcod.  I lined up my shot but before I pulled the trigger, a feeling of accomplishment flooded my body as if I had already seen the shaft penetrate the fish.  I pulled the trigger and watched the shaft hit the thick gill plate of the ling. To my astonishment the shaft did not hold, and I was left frazzled and confused as the fish swam away with the scar of a warrior. 

    It was time to finish what I had started.  I scurried to my kayak to mark the hole with my GPS.  I quickly swam over to my friend Janis – considering that two sets of eyes are better than one. We continued to dive as a team looking for the ling in surrounding holes.  It was not long before Janis hit the surface screaming. “I found a big ling and I think it is yours”! We agreed that I would only shoot the fish if it were the one I previously shot, so I packed my lungs to the max and made the drop.  At the bottom I realized that I had left my flashlight on the kayak. I looked anxiously into the hole waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Soon I could barely make out the eyes of the lingcod. I lined up the shot carefully and squeezed the trigger. Wack! I hit the fish perfectly sending it into a rolling quiver. 

    Upon reaching the surface with the lingcod, we realized I had not shot the same fish. Janis was a bit upset, but we knew that the other lingcod was still out there, so Janis quickly dropped back down and started working the ledges. Only a few moments later I heard Janis yelling again. “I shot your fish”!!!! We were laughing with joy and excitement. I shot her fish and she had shot mine. This was teamwork at its best.

    Sometimes the fishing is tough, and it is easy to get discouraged, but it just makes it that much better the next time when I finally land that prized fish. This was one of the most memorable experiences I have ever had and I will cherish it forever. 

The Story of Dan Silveira:

    No matter how much I study or dive I always find something new to add to my bag of tricks. I have been hunting yellowtail with great success for the past few years, but on this trip I learned more than ever before. 

    I watched the bait with a keen eye as they darted for the bottom. I took a deep breath and made a non-threatening descent to 30 feet where I would wait. It is always an eerie feeling for me to linger in the endless blue, knowing that a predator in on its way. There are many large sea lions, giant black sea bass, and even the illusive six-gill shark that could pop up at any time.  It wasn’t long before shapes started to materialize. The yellowtail I had been hoping for were on a direct path towards me. The 3 big fish came zipping by just out of range, so I grunted and waved my left hand at them to see if they would turn. Sure enough, they came back but offered a difficult shot. I pulled the trigger and watched the shaft hit the yellowtail right behind the gill plate. I swam to the surface with my hand on the reel keeping the fish from going too deep, but just as I hit the surface the line went slack. I was stunned and confused. I had place a good shot but the tip must not have penetrated all the way though the fish. 

    With the yellowtail continuing to escape, my desire to land one continued to grow with impatience. I was determined to get a fish that day so I continued the hunt. After hours of vacant waters, I decided it was time to call it a day. As I was swimming back to my kayak I caught sight of a loan yellowtail. I re-positioned my self and took the long shot. Again I hit the fish good but not perfectly. The fish went straight into the kelp and pulled hard. I knew that if I did not get another shot into the fish it would tear off. I yelled to my dive partner, but unfortunately she did not make it over to me in time and I lost another nice yellowtail. My head was pounding with rage and I knew it was time to call it a day. I needed to rethink my strategy. 

    The next day offered a new chance for me to redeem my confidence and pride. I had a new idea in mind. There were large kelp paddies drifting over the edge of the bait, so I decided to use them as cover. I swam as far up current as I could and found a perfect kelp paddy. I nestled into the kelp to become more camouflaged and started the drift. It felt perfect as if I had become the ultimate predator using my surroundings to stalk my prey. Just as I was entering the bait, a single yellowtail swam right below me. I could not believe it. My idea had worked. I slipped below the surface and down to twenty feet. The fish was now swimming away, but then turned and offered me a perfect shot. Bam! I let the steel fly and I had hit the fish right behind the gill plate. ZZZZZZZ went the reel as the fish exploded into the gloom. I battled the fish for a while and again the fish tore off. 

    With rage pumping through my veins, I figured it was time to quit. I got into my kayak and sat for a while. I had shot three beautiful yellowtail and lost everyone. I had never lost fish like this before, so I swapped my gun for a big cannon with a slip tip. I was not going to let this get to me. The sun was setting and I paddled my kayak to a favorite spot of mine. 

    The first drop I made was to 60 feet. I sat on a ledge and within 15 seconds I caught a glimpse of yellow. Almost within range I could taste the savoring flavor of grilled fish warming my pallet as the fish faded into the gloom. I slipped off the ledge and started the stalk. As I got closer I realized I had hit the jackpot. There were hundreds of yellowtail and the lead fish had circled right below me. Bam! I took the shot at 75 feet deep and stunned the fish! As I made my way back to the surface I realized that I had a long way to go, so I let the line free-spool out of my reel only to see a HUGE bull sea lion going straight for my fish. I quickly went back down and pushed the pesky beast away from my fish. “Damn”, I finally got a holding shot and a darn sea lion was now about to take it away. When I finally hit the surface I took a much-needed breath. I had been down for almost two minutes! With the fish motionless, I pulled it up to me but just as I grabbed it, the yellowtail exploded into the air and back down to face the sea lion.

    For the next 20 seconds it was a battle I had never seen before. The fish swam in every direction barely keeping its tail out of the jaws of the sea lion. Finally, the yellowtail made one final run straight into the kelp. The sea lion looked at me, and I knew it was now or never. I plunged into the kelp wrapping my arms around everything I could. Immediately I could feel the fish pumping its tail. It was mine and I had won. While my hands trembled from excitement, I realized that I had just experienced the most amazing catch of my life. This was the one that never got away! 

    To truly understand why some days are successful and others are not, it requires a diver that is willing to learn from their experiences as well as from others. For some reason these experiences always paint the most vivid images in my mind, continually reminding me of what might have been. There are a thousand what ifs, but only a few hold their weight in gold. This story was written in loving memory of Bonnie Row. May she find calm seas and big lingcod to spear.

 The Road to Rhode
By Dan Silveira

Issue #38

     Where the North Atlantic waters collide with the East Coast of the U.S., an almost unbelievable amount of fish congregate in these waters. The continuous ridges of rock scatter the costal depths, where divers can find reefs even miles from shore.

    It had been about 5 years since I had watched the sunrise on the beaches of the East Coast, and with all the excitement of what was happening on land, I never even contemplated the thought of diving there. After a few years had passed, my passion for freediving escalated and I ventured into competitive spearfishing. By the time 2007 came around I found out that the U. S. Spear Fishing Nationals would be held in Rhode Island. I was pleasantly surprised, as this would be unfamiliar waters for me to explore. 

    The National competitions always attract the most skilled divers, and I couldn’t help but think how many of these divers have regular jobs during the week. It would have been easy for many to just relax with a beer, but instead they packed their bags full of equipment to spend countless hours each day in the water. It is always a privilege to know that these are the type of men and women that make up our breathtaking sport. We don’t do it for the money or the glory, but rather for camaraderie and the pleasure we seek in the sea.

    As my teammates Paul Young, Joe Sarapochillo and I sat in the airplane with anticipation, I thought of the stories and videos I had discovered prior to the trip. It seemed almost unbelievable that there could be massive schools of fish in shallow water. Since this was an area I knew nothing about we needed some help from the locals. I got in touch with Capitan Jack from East Coast Fishing Charters (www.eastcoastchartersri.com), and he assured me that the stories of huge Striped Bass (Morone saxatilis) were a reality. 

      Captain Jack runs a sweet 21 foot center consul boat that we ended up chartering for our scouting. We met early in the morning as the sun was rising, packed our gear and blazed across the calm water. Out of the bay, around the corner and into the water we went. As I lay breathing up for my dive, I heard a “SPLASH” as the anchor hit the water. I swam over and grabbed onto the chain to make sure it was tight. I pulled myself down the anchor line head first, hand over hand, penetrating the murky gloom some 60 feet below. I remember thinking it felt strange not having a speargun in my hands, for the only sense of comfort was my float line attached to a weight I used to mark pinnacles for later reference. We bounced from spot to spot marking good areas with the GPS, which we would review later. Since I do a fair amount of lobster diving in California, it was exciting to see the Northern Lobster (Homarus Americanus). They are a seafood food favorite and are found in almost every lobster trap, deep crack, or in the hands of brave locals who fear not the massive claws of these big bugs. Seeing large schools of stripers can take it’s toll on a spearfisherman, so after scouting for a few hours we decided to make the 20 mile run to Block Island to finally spear some fish.

    As we round the South East corner of Block Island, we could see all the fishing boats trolling back and forth. This was a sign that the fish were in, so we suited up, and slipped off the back of the boat. Once in the water I could see that the visibility had improved from a murky 6 feet off the main land, to a clear 30 feet. I quickly loaded my gun as I was drifting over many big fish. I took a deep breath and dove down as the silhouettes scattered away. Schools of 30 pound Striped Bass were using sunken beaches as highways to travel from one reef to another as I took ambush within a crack only 20 feet below. I had no idea how many Stripers were in the school, but within a few kicks I could see the swarm of large silhouettes in the background. After about 2 minutes of motionless anticipation, the larger fish came in closer as if they had forgotten that I was there. By the time 3 minutes elapsed, these massive fish were inches from my mask and even hovering over my head. Large Tatog were investigating the small puff of sand that rose at the end of my fin tips, and the Bluefish were zipping by to see what the new object was on the bottom. Just when it was becoming a sight I did not want to leave, the need for air brought me back to reality some 3 and 1/2 minutes later. If only I could stay longer I may have become welcome into the chain of life that thrives below the surface. With only a tease of what it might be like to have unlimited bottom time I can now see the reason why I, and freedivers alike are lured into endless hours of diving. I took aim on the largest fish, and pulled the trigger sending my shaft into the spine of the Striper. Stopping him in his tracks, I swam to the surface, took a deep breath and pulled the fish in slowly. Other large Stripers came into circle my prized 40 pound catch, so I yelled to Paul for him to come over, but he was already fighting a large fish also.  It was like spearfishing in an aquarium. That day produced limits of 30 to 40 pound Stripers, many huge Bluefish up to 12 pounds, and a sack full of other fish.

         After 2 weeks of endless scouting and miles of kayak paddling, it was finally the moment of truth. The 2008 U.S. Spearfishing Nationals had begun. The Horn went off and all the competitors took off paddling hard to get to their secret spots first. Most of the divers went 1 mile south to Brenton Reef, while only a few went 2 miles north to Lands End. Both spots had great terrain and only time would tell which spot would produce fish that day.

    I focused on my breathing and worked on a steady paddle speed, as I followed behind Alan Spehar (1993 IUSA ATHLETE of the YEAR from Nor-Cal).  I figured he had found my spot, but after 20 minutes of paddling, I stopped and he kept on going. I used the last 10 minutes of my travel time, to calm my heart rate. Soon my teammate Joe arrived and we were ready to shoot some fish. At 9:30, we quietly slipped into the water. I took a deep breath and started my dive. Approaching the bottom, my eyes began to see the rocks as I pumped my fins back and forth. I came to a combat position on the bottom and strained my eyes to see in the dim light that surrounded me. Stretching out on either side of me was a mass of large Stripers, Tog and Scup. We had found the honey hole. I popped a 15 pound Striper, went up, strung him on my waist and dropped back down. The school came back in and I saw a monster around 35 pounds. I shot him in the gill plate and it took off like a freight train. I fought the fish for a minute or so till it tired. I could see that the shaft was about to fall out, so I dove down to grab it, but the fish bolted again and came off. Disappointed with my loss, I made a third dive, this time landing a 16 pound Striper. In the meantime, Joe had also landed a couple nice stripers. We continued to fill our stringers with huge Tog, Blues, and Trigger Fish to secure our team spot of 5th place. As an individual I came in 2nd place with 74.8 points falling short of Justin Allen who scored 76.4 points. This was the first time I have met Justin, and I was very happy for him, as he deserved to win. He had been working hard, diving and scouting for a long time.

    This had been my first Nationals ever, and the thing I love most about these events is the camaraderie and friends we make. It was an honor to meat some of the spearfishing’s greatest divers. It was a legacy come true to meet the divers from Hawaii, East Coast, Florida, and all the rest. But again the time was far too brief. 

Dogs of Indo 
By Dan Silveira
Issue # 35

    The life of the sea is like a pumping heart surging the tides and currents through its veins. This incredible miracle that gifts us with the riches of the sea is what created our planet earth. From the emptiness of the deepest depths of the ocean to the ceremonial like dances of fish at the reef tops, beauty can always be found in the ocean giving spearfishing a new meaning.     

     Dogtooth tuna is an illusive and prehistoric fish by nature. The mighty force of its tail drives this fish to some of the most ferocious currents known to Indonesia. Their thriving nature brings them to seek waters that could take the lives of those who hunt in search of this creature.

    Obedient to instinct, the tuna hunts vigilantly attacking prey at the neck, splitting their throat, or sinking their lethal teeth, in a cracking fashion, into their brain.  Fear is not a matter of concern when it comes to the impulse of this fish. Within their intuition, thrives survival of the fittest. These tuna have been known to lurk in the deep green waters where light is only a memory of the past; they swim with sharks, and eat their own kind. Like the Tyrannosaurus Rex of the sea, this fish requires a hunter willing to rise above fear. 

    Stories of these brave hunters have imprinted vivid captures in my mind, One that I never forgot was of a diver who went to uncharted ripples of the sea where local fisherman never dared enter due to the large sharks that roamed the water column. The diver speared a dogtooth tuna that sunk his buoys and broke the five hundred pound monofilament hundreds of feet below. 

    Twenty-four hours away from where I live, United States California, in the heart of Indonesia, the rocky cliffs of the lush forests plummet to the sea below. This is where the raging waters throw standing waves coupled by swirling down currents from merging masses of water, and miraculously this is where I found my dream come true.  

    Upon my arrival in Bali I called my local friend. It was time to spearfish. I asked him for the report and it didn’t sound good but we went diving any way. The first day turned out to be horrible, with murky water and no large fish, so once I was back on shore I told my friend that there must be a better spot to dive on the island where the wind would not be so strong. I was not about to spend my trip hunting at the same spot that I had just gotten skunked. I needed to find some clear water with strong currents. He thought about what I had said, and after a long pause, he said “ I take you to secret spot… you see tuna… I promise”. Now this was music to my ears!!! He must have felt bad that I did not see any fish the first day, so he offered to take me to a location that few people know about. 

    I woke up the next day at 5am when it was still dark. The location we were headed to was one hour away by car and another hour away by boat. When we finally arrived at the beach I was frustrated to realize that I only had my reef gun with me. I was going to have to get extremely close to the tuna if I was going to land one. We filled the boat with our gear and started the sea voyage. During our ride out to the spot, I was stunned at the beauty of this side of the island. The sun was lighting up the mountains where the lush tropical forest grew right up to the waters edge. I asked my friend about the islands we were passing, as they looked like great places to spearfish, and he said that only few of them produce abundant amounts of pelagic fish like the place we were about to go to. 

    As we approached the secret spot, I watched my friend as he was focused on the water. He was checking the current. After a moment of concern, he turned to me and said, “today you see tuna”. The current he had been watching was moving in the correct direction in order to produce tuna. We suited up, dropped the buoys behind the boat and entered the water. I swam out to the where the reef dropped sharply, creating a wall of current where brightly colored soft corals were filtering the marine plankton. I was stunned, found myself speechless, and unable to describe the abundant sea life. The visibility was 75 feet, clear like Gin compared to the murky waters I had been diving the day before. I continued my search for tuna and as I dived into a school of frantic bait. This was a good sign that something was hunting and I was soon greeted by a pod of bottle nosed dolphins. Wow, this was the first time that I had been swimming that close to wild dolphins. They swam right up to me and continued to swim around me. It was like they wanted to play so I stayed down with them for as long as I could but after a while, it was time to say goodbye and head for the surface. 

    By the time I had surfaced from playing with the dolphins, I was approaching the spot where the tuna congregate, due to the fast current. So, I took a few deep breaths and dropped back down. I wanted to be 20 feet off the bottom at the thermo cline, which was at 45 feet. I hung there suspended in the water column and motionless, allowing the current to carry me directly into the approaching school of small 20 pound dogtooth tuna. My heart started to speed up with the thought of spearing a tuna with my smaller gun. Finally the fish looked close enough. I took aim and pulled the trigger. Bang!!! I fired the gun and to my astonishment, I missed the fish. Wow, the fish must have been bigger then I had calculated. The visibility was close to 75 feet and I figured that the tuna must have been closer to 50 pounds. 

    I jumped in the boat and got ready for a second drift but by the time we got to my friend, he was fighting a tuna. He had speared a 25-pound tuna. He did not see the large school that I had seen, but 5 tuna rushed him 50 yards behind me. It was my turn to shoot a nice fish.

    We continued our day diving without seeing any more tuna, when all of a sudden the current changed. We regrouped and moved the boat to another spot known for big giant travelli.  Slowly the boat motored full throttle as we punched through 4-foot standing waves. The current at this spot was raging like a class 4 rapid. Once the boat finally made it through the rough waters, we pulled in to a small lagoon where we would enter the water. My friend went in first since I was a bit concerned about the conditions. As I looked up through the crashing waves created by the current, I could see the speed in which we were moving. The current was at 5 knots and I could see the whirling down currents like a tornado under water. My friend dropped down to take a look and lined up on something. I quickly swam over to his buoys and grabbed on as I heard the gun go off. For the next five minutes, I was towed around desperately trying to keep the fish from sinking the buoy. My friend had been sucked away from his buoy when the fish headed up current. That’s why I was holding onto his catch. The boat picked him up and dropped him back in the water so he could land his prized catch. The fish was now close and we could see it materializing. He had shot a 90-pound giant travelli. I told him to hold onto the buoy as I could see the slip tip ready to fall out. I took a breath and dropped down for the kill shot. I lined up on the head and let the steel penetrate his brain. We enjoyed working together and it proved to be successful. We did another drift when suddenly I felt a strong pull on my float line. I quickly looked back to see what was happening and realized that my two buoys were gone. I looked down and could see that they were underwater. The whirlpool down currents had sucked my buoys under. I yelled for the boat and quickly got in. I pulled hard and finally they surfaced. I’ve never seen anything like that before and decided that it was too dangerous to dive that spot any more.

    Now I was two fish behind and I really wanted to spear something, but it was time to head home. It was the end of day two and I had not managed to spear tuna yet. I knew that day three would be my lucky day. I had learned how to manage myself in the currents.

The last Day.

    We returned to the same secret spot the next day and I was well equipped with a 64-inch tuna gun. I eagerly entered the water first this time and immediately saw frantic baitfish being chased by large rainbow runners.  I took a breath and dropped vertically towards the bottom. Dropping down to 40 feet 6 large shadows grew closer with curiosity. The bottlenose dolphins had returned to great me. They stayed within 10 feet of me for the next 3 dives. It was a beautiful experience. 

    Once I was just outside the drop off I made a dive to 60 feet. I kept my kicks to a minimum and closed my eyes. I was envisioning the tuna in my mind, and as I opened my eyes I could see the white coins of dogtooth tuna creating a wall in front of me. Knowing that these fish are best hunted like white seabass I sank motionless and did not look at them.  The large school was continuing towards me, but I knew that the bigger ones would be deeper, so I waited and sure enough the school split and out came the Big Daddy with a length of almost 5 feet. I kicked 4 more times to close the gap and by this time I could probably reach out and touch the 50 pounders around me. I took the shot as the big fish was swimming away. (17 foot shot)The shaft went in from above the spine just behind the halfway mark and came out on the other side near the belly. The fish paused, and then went into a ballistic race. I could see the shaft bending as it hit every boulder 90 feet away from the surface. I pulled hard on the float line with no success of lifting him off the bottom, so I turned towards the surface only to see a 40-liter solid foam buoy passing me at 40 feet. WOW, it was being followed by bungee and another float. Upon hitting the surface I realized that my dream of 4 years was about to come true. 30 seconds later my second buoy surfaced and I was taken for a FAST ride with the current raging its 3 foot standing waves at my back. After pulling and giving line for 5 minutes my primary buoy surfaced and now I knew the fish was only 150 feet away. 20 minutes and 1/2 a mile down current my friend was waiting with a second gun.

     He was a smart man and even had his camera on his wrist. As I came up with this large fish with 2 shafts in it, he was taking pictures of the fish as the blood was pouring out of this magnificent tuna. After landing the fish I was flooded with emotions of accomplishment. I quickly prepared my gear and over the next 4 drifts, I shot 4 more tuna even in the presence of many 14-foot great hammerhead sharks. That was an experience I will save for later, but I managed to land 3 smaller tunas. This fish has my respect after having seen 2 floats sink in the whirlpool down-currents and their ruthless power pull me and my large buoys everywhere.  

This issue #32 was all about Yellowtail hunting.

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Back Issues

or you can pick up a copy at your local Borders Bookstores

Here is the Story:

Images of Gold 
Written by  Dan Silveira 
Photos by Taken by Dan Silveira and Mark Shepherd

Enjoying the view, after a long kayak paddle out of Two Harbors, Catalina, I was finally ready to dive a Yellowtail hot spot, Ship Rock. This seamount protruding out of the water is about 1 ½ miles off shore and is home to many fish in beautiful clear water.

    Plunging off my kayak into one of southern California’s giant kelp beds, I am engulfed by the riches of Catalina Island. Hundreds of small blacksmith and mackerel come to greet me reflecting the light off their scales. Slipping below the surface, the bait fish dance their way out towards blue water. I follow them watching their movements and looking for battle scars. Signs of injured bait fish swimming franticly are good signs of larger predators feeding on them. Arriving at 40 feet, I continue my calm descent to the bottom, where at 53 feet I lay motionless. As I look up, to my right I see blue water with bait fish dancing towards me, and to my left is a giant kelp bed with silhouettes of distant calico bass and large Sheephead.

    Calicos and Sheephead are a great table species and are sought after by many spear fishermen; however, not on this day. I was holding back for a glimpse of gold. Yellowtails are stealthy predators of blue water and can come at any time. They are fast and cautious. Keeping my kicks slow and calm, I increase my odds of seeing distant game fish in these clear waters. I anticipate large game fish on every dive because a hot spot like this wouldn’t produce any thing else.

    Swimming up current way past the kelp, the bait fish don’t seem to end. Now, nearing 75 yards off Ship Rock the bait fish are still thick as ever. If it weren’t for my float line and tiny bubbles, there was a possibility of getting vertigo in this swirling cloud of bait. Breathing up for another dive, I descend to about ten feet where all of a sudden the fleeing fish turn around and swim right back at me. Knowing that this was a good sign, I pointed my gun in anticipation of large fish, but only to my surprise, it was a sea lion. The sea lion was feeding on the bait and came back time and time again. Frustrated by the sea lion, I decided to swim back to my kayak for a break. About half way back I stopped at an area that the rocks were a different color. They were yellow and had no kelp on them. Becoming very curious I swam through the bait fish and glided towards these baron rocks. Now, very relaxed I used my long bottom time to investigate this unusual area. After about 45 seconds, a solitary large Sheephead swam by. Since I had not speared any fish yet, I lined up for a shot. Waiting for the Sheephead to come a little closer I saw a glimpse of flickering gold. To my right was a school of about 40 large Yellowtail, luckily for me I had not yet pulled the trigger on the Sheephead and was able to turn my gun in time. I lined up on the first fish, but because of my movement the fish turned away. With a gentle strum of my speargun bands, the golden flickers of light were back and I shot! I took one out of the middle of the school and secured a good shot. Arriving at the surface, my float was right in front of me, flying by just in time for me to grab on for the ride.  Yellowtail have amazing power and sure enough, this fish fought determinedly. The 25 pound Yellowtail had shot straight for the bottom, and with 75 feet of bungee and 30 feet of monofilament it got pretty deep. After fighting the fish for a few minutes I was now drifting far away for Ship Rock. I wanted to take care of this fish before the current took me any farther. I pulled fiercely until the Yellowtail was in sight, then dove down with my knife and approached it. I applied pressure to its head with my knife, waiting for its eyes to roll back. Once the Yellowtail was subdued, I was amazed at the gold colors dancing off the fish’s lateral line. This was an experience never to be forgotten and only to be treasured like gold.

This was the most reticent article about hunting Dog Tooth Tuna in Bali: 

You can pick up a copy at:  www.hawaiiskindiver.net