THIS morning, dawdling knee-deep in the water at the edge of the port beach at Valle Gran Rey on the Canary Island of La Gomera, I remembered standing in the same spot many years ago with a skinny boy, now a giant of 30 years, and looking at a big manta ray lying in the sand at our feet.
‘Manta’ means blanket in Spanish and, while this specimen was only the size of a beach towel, it was nevertheless an experience to be so close to so huge a fish. In summer, they pick days when the sea is agitated to lay their eggs only a few feet from the shore.
The boy touched the edge of its shape with his toe, and it raised its wings and flew off, a pale ghost in the grey water.
Sometimes, night-time anglers, trawling for barracuda from the pier, hook a ray and, being unable to haul its vast bulk out of the water, cut the trace and release it, the worse for its brief encounter with human beings.
Happily, pier anglers are rare at Las Vueltas, last stop for the yachts that pull in here to emulate Columbus and make the Atlantic crossing out of La Gomera when the Trade Winds blow.
Some mornings, from our balcony, we see a small boat like a dot on the empty, glimmering sea. It is usually manned by its owner, and he fishes alone with hook and line. One day last week, our friend Pepe hauled aboard 80kg of ‘pargo’, a delicious deep-water fish. No fish was smaller than 3kg and one was 15kg, about 33lbs.
There are 12 such boats at the port, things of beauty, each about nine metres long, open-decked but for the prow, which is high, and sweeping and decked over. The largest, perhaps 15 metres, carries three or four men. Fishing for tuna, they spray water onto the sea’s surface and the tuna mistake the sound for shoals of small fish. Then, in go the baited lines suspended from short bamboo poles and, with luck, out come the tuna.
All local fishing is hook and line, causing no damage to the sea bed and with no wasted by-catch. The one-man boats hunt pargo, sea bream and ‘peto’, a large, solitary tuna whose curiosity is its downfall. It comes close to the boat and the fisherman stands on the high prow and spears it with a trident, meanwhile controlling the rudder and motor in the stern by means of a long string.
As I’ve said before, "La Gomera, a Guide" is the best of all English language introductions to the island. Tim Hart, the author and founding member of electric folk band Steeleye Span, came here around the same time as ourselves — 1981 — when no more than a handful of ex-pats had found Gomera.
His book is replete with photographs and, the other day, when we sat on his terrace high up in the green valley, the Plains Tiger butterflies which he has photographed so well flitted from tree to tree and flower to flower.
Possibly even more dramatic and more beautiful were their caterpillars, the size of one’s small finger, extraordinary concoctions of cadmium yellow, brilliant white and scarlet spots on a jet black background, Alice-in-Wonderland things which, for all their gaudiness, were hard to see as they grazed on milkweed.
When we went to the north side of La Gomera, we saw Mount Teide on Tenerife rising huge and white against the blue sky. Words are not capable of describing the majesty of the snow-covered mountain in the sun.
Meanwhile, on Gomera, I’ve never seen the mountains greener. On some days, clouds from the forests sweep over the valleys and the sun shining through them pinpoints white villages on the slopes, as if the panorama of terraces was a vast stage.
The nights are quiet, even ‘downtown’, and only at weekends are a few of the bars open after midnight. The frogs croak, and the cats yowl. The island is little changed over the years — more buildings, but all kept to a maximum of three-storeys and roofed with tiles.
Sometimes, punctuating the frog-songs, singers with guitars or mandolins give voice outside a bar, becoming more passionate as the moon rises and the wine flows.
The frogs croak on regardless, and wisps of clouds sweep across the moon, postcard-perfect above the tall palms.
a d v e r t i s e m e n t
This appeared in the printed version of the Irish Examiner Monday, March 03, 2008
