bluefin tuna he shot the fish and headed back to the boat with it.
Alone, I was diving the now famed‘ tuna alley’ of Guadalupe Island, Mexico. Having trouble with the then-experimental lifeguard float system, which kept deploying its 100 feet of line in the heavy swells, I pinned the line inside the float. I reasoned that if I shot a fish, I could get to the pin and release it as the buoys passed me.
A school of ten, 50-pound bluefin, 100 feet away, mesmerized me. They swam so close to the surface that they occasionally disappeared from my view in the large oceanic swells marching overhead.
Toward the end of a dive, I glanced down, beyond the reef edge into deep water and noticed two small distant tuna swimming in my direction. I froze. Slowly the tuna grew, soon becoming giants. I waited for them to get close enough to make out detail on their bodies before I took my shot. When the closest fish just started to veer away from its course toward me( about 15 feet away), I simultaneously thrust my four-banded gun forward and kicked. I fired. My intent was to give as much forward momentum to the near horizontal spearshaft as possible.
The fish took off so fast that it was impossible to catch my release pin as the two buoys streaked by, almost hitting me. Still joined by the pin, the buoys descended at a steep angle. Seconds later, they started to float back toward the surface, a sure sign my fish was lost. At least I could release that pesky pin.
Suddenly, the floats took off again, towing me in a large circle. I caught sight of the huge tuna, having completed a full circle on the surface, heading straight toward me. I began untangling myself from my float lines and preparing to dodge the monster fish, when it rolled over and started sinking, about 30 feet away. I struggled to stay afloat as the giant tuna’ s dead weight kept pulling me under. Finally, the chase boat arrived with my second gun. I dove and made a good second shot securing my fish just as the last wing of the first spearhead slipped free. We lassoed the 398-pound world-record by its big tail and brought it back to the mother boat, Sand Dollar. We tied it to the boat’ s swim step while we devised a plan to get it onboard intact.
I’ ll never forget the unbelieving expressions on the faces of the returning divers, as one by one, they
caught sight of that monster fish hanging from the back of the boat.
In the Azores on August 19, 1997, Paulo Gaspar claimed the Atlantic bluefin record— 297.2 kilograms( 655 pounds). This is a phenomenal catch. Besides its size, what makes this record special is the character and preparation of Paulo himself— a consummate bluewater hunter.
Gaspar was born and raised in the Azores. He enjoyed all water sports, but his passion has always been diving and spearfishing.“ Big fish always fascinated me and became an obsession,” he recalls.“ As the years went by, I began to acquire the utmost respect for the sea, and all its existence, and I adopted the attitude of a selective hunter. The risk of being attacked by a swordfish, a bluefin tuna or even a shark sparked in me a sense of adventure.”
Paulo learned from the local fishermen that the bluefin had come closer to shore and in greater numbers than anytime in 20 to 30 years. However, the fishermen cautioned Paulo that his attempt to land a giant bluefin would end in disaster. They told him of a fellow fisherman who got tangled in his fishing line. The huge tuna towed him 24 meters deep before fellow fishermen arrested his descent and pulled him and the tuna to the surface. Tragically, in the excitement, someone cut the wrong end of the line and the tuna towed the man into oblivion.
Undaunted, Gaspar never stopped thinking about capturing a giant bluefin. He became obsessed whenever he sighted bluefin underwater. He slept fitfully, ate little and spent little time with his family.
Two more tuna encounters brought him to fever pitch. With an inadequate reef gun, Paulo launched his spear at the back of a giant as it disappeared at“ supersonic” speeds. Line ripped through Paulo’ s hands, but in a few minutes, the fish was free, leaving Paulo with a spear bent 90 degrees and a fractured spearhead.“ I learned from this experience that I had the wrong equipment,” he remembers.“ I was trying to shoot an elephant with a BB gun.” While waiting for an adequate bluewater speargun, Paulo had another significant tuna encounter.
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