Do Sharks Fear Purple Bandannas?
Liesbet Collaert “Have fun! I hope you catch some dinner,” I yell at my husband, after giving him a good luck kiss.
“I’ll do my best,” he replies, buzzing off with the others. Two friends, expert fishermen, picked him up in a dinghy at our sailboat. Once in a while, Mark joins them on their daily fishing journeys into the more fertile waters of the San Blas Islands, Panama. The other guys bring home beautiful snappers or other delectable fish, sized to feed a small army; he returns empty-handed or with a lobster, something that doesn’t move too fast. It’s all good, as long as he has fun. The bounty is usually shared anyway. Mark’s companions let him borrow a Hawaiian sling, while they handle ‘heavy-duty’ spearguns. How anyone can kill something
moving as rapidly as a fish at eye level is a mystery to me. If you’ve ever snorkeled, taken photos, or tried to touch a moving object underwater, you know what I mean. Distance and speed are deceiving. It’s a warped world down there. After waving them goodbye, I’m all alone on our 35-foot catamaran Irie. What shall I do today? I could write an article, read a book, do laundry (thanks to our rain collection last night), or simply remain on deck, taking in my surroundings – palm trees, white beaches, dark patches of coral reef, and the clearest of water carrying our hulls. It never gets old. Just like dolphins frolicking with our bows. Or snorkeling excursions among colorful creatures. Or a lustrous sun kissing the watery horizon, announcing dusk. Or… Hey, what’s that? I stare over the side at an odd object gracing the bottom of the anchorage. The SisterShip 8
