The Fishtraps!

by Jeremy Hobday

Looked at from below the water, 11 metres is a lot of sailboat. If the boat is bouncing up and down on the waves while you are diving just below, all this deadweight in movement looks quite overwhelmingly close.
So it is surprising that seven tons of boat even in a moderate wind, can be tethered to the bottom by a 3/8-inch blue polypropylene line leading to a fishpot some 50 metres below.

I had seen the dreaded float bob under at the last minute as I passed it to windward, but was not sure if the boat was caught by the prop or by the rudder. I put the boarding ladder in place (VERY important) and plunged over the side with a mask before deciding whether to get the sails down. I hadn’t tried firing up the engine, as I didn’t know where the rope was. The boat was now heading downwind at probably less than a knot, directly towards the windward coast of Martinique distant perhaps half a mile. Turning the rudder produced absolutely no effect.

Once over the side, I found it was a good thing I had not tried the motor as there were a few very tight wraps round the shaft, and a float was wedged between the P-bracket and the prop. Much too tight to unwrap — the prop must have been turning slowly although the engine was not running.
So, back on board to fetch a sharp knife while taking a look to see just how much sea room was left between the boat and the waves breaking on the reefs. They were definitely closer now! Should I take time to get the sails down?
No, let’s get started: I began by cutting through the turns on the shaft. While patiently sawing away on what felt like very hard plastic (of course, the line was under tension, the turns were very tight, and the boat was bucking and rolling) a nasty thought stopped me dead. If I cut the rope the boat would immediately gather way downwind, and I might just get left behind before I could get a hand on the boarding ladder. In fact, it was at this moment I thought of trailing a long rope from the stern with a fender attached before cutting the fishtrap free. Back on board and another quick look shoreward — now there was definitely no time to get the sails down!
The transom was banging up and down just above my head among the waves, and there was no one else on board to lend a hand. Back in the water and back to sawing with the knife, which suddenly seemed less sharp than I had imagined. I could now clearly see the bottom and reckoned I was in less than eight metres of water. For a moment my hand was trapped between the prop and the line and I saw blood leaking into the water.

At last the rope parted and I could dislodge the float and unwrap the remaining turns on the shaft before getting some air into my lungs. Luckily I could grab the ladder as the liberated boat started moving shoreward in earnest. I came out of the water faster than a penguin onto an ice floe and seconds later had started the engine and turned the boat seawards.
Not a moment too soon. The breakers were really close and there could not have been more than four or five metres beneath the hull — and the keel draws nearly two metres! While motoring out of danger, I fully realized that I had been very close to being shipwrecked.

Afterthoughts
On reflection, I think I should have at least rolled up the genoa before inspecting the underwater situation — dropping the mainsail might have taken too long (as I was sailing single-handed), but the situation was getting more urgent by the second. I should also have turned the wheel hard over and applied the wheel brake, anticipating the possibility of getting left behind in the water! Easy enough to think of afterwards. The safety line astern was, however, a good idea. Alternatively, I should have just cut the fishtrap line where it left the boat towards the bottom, and then sailed out of danger while I was still sufficiently far offshore.
This time I had nothing worse than a burn mark or graze on my left hand, which eventually turned into a small blue tattoo where the skin was crushed against the blue antifouling by the very taut rope and the movement of the boat. A small price to pay.

No, this is not the first time I have been caught like a fish on a line. On my last boat I fitted a small nose-piece of folded stainless to the front of the skeg to hang down in front of the crack between it and the semi-balanced rudder, fitted so the rudder cleared it when turning, with flush fastenings presenting no grip to a floating rope. I thought about a sharpened edge, and then thought again about what it might do to me when diving to clean the prop.
I have thought about buying patent “cutting discs” to fit on the prop shaft, but have heard different reports of their usefulness — also, they are very expensive. Perhaps they are worth the price after all?

After a few experiences of this type (for instance, running into a half-floating net some years ago off the leeward coast of St. Martin in my motorsailer and spending a long time in the water with a courageous Dominican crewman cutting free the contra-rotating props which were unbelievably encumbered in the heavy mesh), I take every precaution to avoid fishtrap floats and other floating objects. They can be at the very least bothersome, and sometimes downright dangerous. In bad conditions you could lose your boat, or even your life if sailing close inshore.

What precautions should one take?
I have noticed that fishtrap markers come in every possible declension of a float, ranging from a humble, transparent Coca-Cola bottle (or a string of them), to a block of polystyrene, or even a real buoy with a flag marker.
Colourless bottles are very difficult to see when sailing towards the sun — they are totally camouflaged by the reflection from the wavelets. In other conditions they are fairly visible, but it is extremely difficult to know where the floating line starts and finishes. Just when you think you have passed to windward, pinching and adjusting the sails to a maximum, you suddenly see (if you are very wide-awake) that the floating line continues just below the surface for another few metres before plunging towards the depths. Should you go about? Is there time? Will the keel just clear the line when you are heeled? If you see the float suddenly bob under, even if you are already past it, you have been caught again.

There are areas like minefields with floats and lines covering an acre or more (the windward coast of Martinique off Islet Cabrit and Islet Hardy, for instance) with up to 50 fishtraps each located by up to seven floats strung out on a floating line. Each line represents around ten metres of floating trip wire lying across your path. Work it out — there is no straight course that will carry you through, and you and your crew (work out a system of signals beforehand to avoid escalating shouting matches!) will be straining all eyes forward to make out the beginning and end of each line in order to slalom past. No sooner have you avoided one than you meet the next one. Sometimes you barely have enough way on after a manoeuvre to avoid it, and sometimes you are obliged to come about — if you can.
However, as a rough guide, if you see a “real” buoy, or a white cube of polystyrene, chances are it is the last float in the line, so preferably leave it to windward. However, just occasionally a fisherman will add two or three bottles or just a tail of floating rope after the main float to make his recovery easier, so do not relax until they are behind you.

Do not forget either, that if you see one fishtrap buoy, you are almost certain to be in an area where there are others. Redouble your vigilance.
Evidently, it is just as unfortunate for a fisherman that you have to cut his line as it is to yourself. What is the solution? Heaven forbid even more regulations in our over-regulated lives, but what about a bit of cooperation? Lines which come straight up from the bottom to a round floating buoy present the least hazard to a passing boat. The likelihood is that the boat will push the float aside even if the boat passes directly over it and the line will not be snagged by either prop or rudder. This is particularly true if you are sailing. If motoring, you should stop your propeller as you pass. Also, take the precaution of centering your rudder unless it is hung on the back of a long keel so it tends not to hook the line.

Fishfloats are to be found all over the Caribbean in greater or lesser concentrations. I have even come across examples at more than 100 metres depth (how does the fisherman decide just where to locate them when he has never seen the bottom?), and even 15 miles off the coast.
Recently, because of strong headwinds that seemed to moderate at night, I set sail from Marin to Robert (a five- to seven-hour trip up the windward coast of Martinique) with an hour or two to spare before dark. This time the floats were lying in a northeast-southwest direction and I was tacking offshore nearly parallel to their direction so, for once, the fishtrap lines were not laid out in front of the boat like transverse trip wires, and I could slide by close-hauled with only small course adjustments. By dark I was outside the hundred-metre contour and the minefields were behind me. I had no intention of tacking inshore until I could lay the passage into the Baie du Robert. However, four hours later, a three-quarter moon showed me an occasional float as I closed the pass (and indeed I have often seen floats placed directly in navigation channels). So beware: coastal sailing at night presents considerable risk, even when using well marked passes between the reefs.
A sharp knife on the end of a three-metre pole wielded from the deck may be useful in some situations, but this may present a stowage problem and an additional hazard on board. A waterproof frontal lamp would make diving in the dark a possibility in reasonable seas, or even better would be a dive partner with a torch. With winds of more than Force 5, I dread to think of the ensuing desperate escapade!

Is there any aspect of fishfloats that can be of use to the yachtsman?
Yes. You can sometimes buy very fresh fish or shellfish from the fisherman who is hauling up his catch. You can sometimes read the current by checking if the buoys are lying to the wind or if they are bobbing and jerking in another direction. Very often fishtraps are placed very close to reefs, often grouped along the reef edge, and so provide a useful indication of the reef's position if visibility in the water is poor. However, seeing a float does not necessarily mean there is a reef!
Finally, let us hope that fishermen will realize that it is in their best interests to reduce this hazard as much as possible, and a single, easily visible float with no line trailing on the surface seems to be the best solution.

Perhaps they will be able to conserve their traps and markers, and we can keep our boats out of this particular trouble.
Jeremy Hobday is cruising the Caribbean aboard S/Y Tchin.