Photo 1: The third island in the Aitutaki lagoon
The glorious turquoise-blue waters of the Aitutaki Lagoon are something to behold. They are quite simply, the epitome of paradise. However, they become hell when you try to extract any edible sea life out of them. The Lagoon is rich in life and has plenty to offer the starving Shipwrecker…if you can get your hands on it.
The old saying “necessity breeds invention” clearly applies here. We needed protein and our land resources couldn’t sustain this craving. So we looked to the water to help us out. Fishing is a great passion of mine; most often it is in the name of sport and rarely for survival. If I have a bad day fishing at home, it’s not a problem. A bad days fishing on the third island meant the pangs of hunger got ever more severe and as a consequence: a drop in morale.
From a gathering point of view the lagoon offered quite a few tasty treats. Fat sea snails the size of tennis balls were not all that hard to come by, roasted in the embers, they were rather good. I found quite a few in the first couple of weeks and then they seemed to disappear, how word gets around! Clams were also quite prolific; unfortunately they needed to be gouged out from the rocks with a knife. After a few extractions, the knife had taken a serious battering and as it was our only one, it needed to be looked after (the clams were as good as any oysters I’ve ever had in England). So with shellfish and molluscs off the menu we turned to the piscine population for sustenance.
Spearing
Photo 2: Nick spearing in the lagoon
On the sand bars around the islands there are plenty of flatfish, flounder to be precise. In my four days isolation on the mainland (before it’s your time to be dropped on the island) I would go for a wade on the flats in front of my delightful little beach bungalow on stilts (oh yes, Channel 4 do look after you well!), I was virtually walking on the bloody things! So naturally I assumed there would be plenty around all the other islands. Unfortunately it didn’t work like that, the complete lack of flat sandy areas around the 3rd island meant the ‘flatties’ were limited, I think I saw about 10 in three months despite searching everyday.
The sheer enjoyment of wandering around a blue lagoon, spear in hand, is so awesomely primitive I couldn’t get enough of it. I think this was partly because it was my time alone. Living on a small island with others 24/7 can become slightly claustrophobic, it was refreshing to go on a wander up to the reef to have a bit of time to ponder new ways of making our island home better and think about loved ones back home on the other side of the planet.
Our spears were made from one of the islands greatest resources, Redwood (the local name for it), it is a extremely hard wood which has a rich crimson colour once shaved of it’s outer bark. The spear is a comforting tool to take out in the water: for a bit of stability when walking as well as to prod, poke and ward off anything that looks menacing. One such nuisance were the white moray eels that would often patrol the waters edge, they had a strangely aggressive nature and would ‘go’ for you, zeroing in on your ankles! I managed to chase one back to its lair in an outcrop of rocks and put in a few jabs, only to feel something grip it, probably its teeth…
Photo 3: Stonefish
Did the spears ever provide anything for the table? As it happens they did, one of the most poisonous fish in the Sea: the Stonefish. One of the boatmen who dropped off the crew everyday told me they were highly prized in the pacific, as long as they are prepared properly. James, Mike and I came across a Stonefish yards from our favourite paddling spot. Rather than giving it a wide berth, we felt it was a little too close to home and had to be dealt with. Cooking pot and spear in hand, it took a few preliminary strikes before we found the best point of entry. Stonefish have very bony heads and, thankfully, very fleshy hindquarters. Once speared, I remember gingerly lifting this angry fish with poisonous spines out of the water, keeping it at a distance before plonking it into our pot.
Thankfully, my friend (and cameraman) Dimitri was with us filming it so feel free to watch the whole escapade here (the particular scene is about 2min 10secs in). Stonefish is very similar to monkfish in taste and texture, we made Stonefish curry with my curry powder, it was delicious, although I remember having an eerie sense of karma being a possible repercussion of this meal!
Fishing
Photo 4: Nick & Mike go fishing
Our fishing tackle was made from bits and pieces kindly donated from the girl’s wash bags. Kirby grips and dental floss formed the working parts and a length of hibiscus was used as the rod. The Kirby grips were straightened out and the straight end was ground to a sharp point on our sharpening stone, the sharp end was then bent around a wooden cooking spoon and the hook was done.
Bait was to be found crawling all over the island. Hermit crabs are not the ideal hook bait but when removed from their shell and smashed to a pulp, they make a perfect ground bait or chum to attract the fish. The hook bait was a small snail that we collected from the rocks. The Cook Island fishing style is different to the kind that I’m used to; the idea is to get out in amongst the rock pools, and cast off the coral stumps, throw in a handful of the stinking chum and hold the rod up so you can see when the dental floss goes taught from a biting fish. Once you see the line bounce a bit, indicating a fish is attacking the hook bait, you have to try to whip the hook into its mouth by striking. This is harder than it sounds; the fish have small mouths and don’t take the bait whole.
Although very frustrating at times, we were sometimes rewarded with our persistence, coral trout, parrot fish, trigger fish and yellow snapper were the most regular on the menu. The trouble with this type of fishing was that when only a couple of you are out for a few hours and you only catch 4-5 fish it doesn’t divvy up too well between 7 hungry people. It was made all that much harder by having a cameraman and sound guy standing in the pool you are trying to fish in and asking you to talk about the latest mood in camp! When Rowan arrived, also a keen fisherman, I found out we both fished at the same place back home and fishing became more frequent with a renewed sense of vigour.
Photo 5: Hermit crabs used for bait
All the fish we caught were gutted, wrapped in palm leaves, tied up with wet strips of hibiscus bark and cooked in the hot embers of the fire. A squeeze of lime and a pinch of salt completed these little parcels of protein. It turned out fishing was done to provide a snack for the individual, rather than provide a meal for the tribe. This was often the case with crabs too and I remember having some late night hunting sessions with the boys, culminating in a midnight feast of crab around a fire on the beach. Good times.
Other methods of fish procurement came and went, often without success. When there were enough of us we hacked down lots of palm leaves and attempted a “Lau”. This involves targeting the whitebait that forms a thin seam at the water’s edge. The idea is to create a semi-circle with each of you connected by the end of a palm frond in knee-deep water. By holding the palms in the water and slowly approaching the shoal of whitebait, the aim is to force the fish into a small area and drive them up onto the sand. On paper, it sounds straightforward logistically it was a nightmare!
Ciguatera poisoning
The highs and lows of hunting for your own food when you have no other option (although Channel 4 probably would not have allowed us to starve) are extreme, I have never gone from being ecstatic at seeing a chicken in one of our traps to despair when it escapes, all in the space of a couple of minutes. It was hard, the first five weeks by far the hardest. With a mixture of Joy and disappointment, the production crew told us (after two months) that any food from the sea was strictly off limits. There had been a few cases of ciguatera (a toxin found in reef fish that becomes more concentrated the further up the food chain it goes) poisoning on the mainland and they didn’t want to take any risks. There seemed little point in fishing again, except for pleasure. With 50% of our hunting ground gone, we were supplemented with a few tins of tuna and some Lambs tongue, so it wasn’t all bad news.
If I learnt one thing out there it was to appreciate my food more. I already did, but being in that situation put it on a whole new level. As I think about all that we went through over a year ago, I can’t help but have a smile on my face, it was one experience I shall never, ever forget and thankfully the whole adventure was filmed too, something to show the grandkids! As my Shipwrecked experience draws to a close and the next bunch of castaways ready themselves for the new series to come on TV, I can’t help but wonder if I will ever venture back to the 3rd Island. At least next time, I will know exactly what to take.
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