Fishing in Ibiza

We’re midway through our second circumnavigation of Ibiza and my heart is racing. An hour north of San Antonio and we have just witnessed, and been a small part of, a scene straight out of the Blue Planet.

We’d stopped in San Antonio for some supplies – mostly mundane stuff like cooking gas, olive oil and a funnel, but on the spur of the moment had also bought a fishing lure and line, big and strong enough to tempt and catch tuna and dorado. None of us are fisherman – I’ve fished sporadically when sailing with barely any success and the last fish I caught was 15 years ago, so it was less the prospect of seriously supplementing our diet and more the prospect of a new activity did Scarlett and I chose a lure based on shininess, size and price.

An hour later, motoring north off the beautiful west coast of Ibiza, Josephine spots a tuna feeding frenzy a 100 yards away. We’ve seen these in the distance before, but never at this ferocity or this close, with 100s of tuna thrashing the water and many jumping clear of the water as they catch their prey. And these are big tuna, at least 3 feet long and demonstrating their clear strength and speed as they flash about just below the surface. We already have our lure out, knotted and set up with various leaders, swivels and snubbers as instructed by the internet. With Genevieve helming, Scarlett and Eliza watching the spectacle from the bow, Josephine and I wait at the stern for the inevitable bite of a tuna on our lure. We motor through the tuna, seabirds swoop on our lure (thankfully not fooled by it), but although we could see tuna in the vicinity, none are tempted. Should have paid more attention to which lure we bought rather than going for the cheapest and brightest. “Let’s turn around and go through once more” I say to Gen, and then Bang! – the line shudders, the snubber stretches out, and we have a big fish hooked.

The lure - colourful, cheap, attractive to tuna, but sadly not up to the job

I’d love to now describe to you, perhaps with the odd reference to Hemmingway, the subsequent epic struggle between man and tuna, but in reality it all finished 30 seconds later when the line went ominously slack before I'd the chance to do anything more than let the fish run. I reeled in the line, sure enough nothing on the end of it. I expected my fishing knot to have failed (I'd copied it off the internet) – instead, it was the lure attachment – the cheapness of the lure manifesting itself in equipment failure rather than lack of attraction to tuna. Definitely not my fishing ability at fault! But my appetite for fishing is whetted, even if this episode ended with me, not the fish, being well and truly gutted.

Aside from fishing failure, we’re having a lovely time in Ibiza and Formentera. There is now the merest hint the crowds are starting to ease, and we’ve found places that are both lovely and somewhat away from the masses. And the islands are gorgeous – dramatic cliffs and islets, sumptuous pine forests, and superb sandy beaches with crystal clear turquoise water and more marine life than we’ve seen anywhere in the Med. It’s been an amazing few weeks, in part because we’ve been able to share it with family, in part because the holiday atmosphere that pervades is so contagious – like everyone else we too feel like we’re on holiday.

Now slowly we’re starting to get back into “normal” life – starting school again, catching up on overdue maintenance, even alcohol consumption has dropped marginally! If all goes to plan we’ll spend another couple of weeks here, then head off to SE Spain and spend some time getting the boat ready for the next stage of our trip out, leaving the Mediterranean behind and setting forth into the Atlantic .

And most importantly, plenty more opportunity to catch a tuna.