Romancing Europe India's Pushkar Camel Fair Photo Series Short Stories Stand Alone About Jonathan E-mail Journal Newspaper Portfolio Home	Catch of the Day Crossing back over into Bali, I arrived in a fishing village called Padangbai. I heard that the local fishermen pushed their traditional-style sailboats into the sea at four in the morning. I could probably catch a ride out for small fee. So, there I was the next day, walking the beach in the darkness of the morning, looking for a fisherman that knew enough English to understand that I wanted to tag along, take some pictures, and I was willing to pay money. Ketut was his name. He had a traditional-style boat consisting of a meter-high version of a canoe with two outrigging logs to keep the canoe in an upright position in the ocean. Our sail was made up of bamboo poles and nylon material. Two bags of nets sat in the middle of the 14-inch-wide wooden canoe. Strapped to the back was our only real diversion of tradition- a Yamaha outboard motor. We set sail in the darkness with the mighty ocean smooth as glass. Well, ok, we didn't really set sail, but more like "gunned the Yamaha" while the sail served more as a decoration in our windless morning. Clouds filled most of the sky, except for breaking enough for a little star gazing as we spent the next hour motoring out to our spot. Before the sun was to rise, Ketut began stringing a gill net out the back of the boat while I helped with paddling the boat forward. Over a 100 yards of net stretched out to catch anything in its path. While waiting for the sun to rise and the fish to get caught, we began trolling, circling far out from our net. The sun wasn't going to disappoint this morning, with the storm clouds breaking apart and a crescent moon hanging above. Orange and blue mixed in the reflection off the still glassy ocean surface. "Dolphin!" Ketut said. I smiled and turned to see the dolphin breaking through the glassy surface of color. This is great I thought, beautiful sunrise, sitting in a traditional boat, nets set waiting the day's catch, and a dolphin putting on a glorious display. "Dolphin", I reply with a smile. "No good Dolphin", he responds back. Oh, the nets, I thought, the dolphin would get stuck in the nets. Ketut reached out and started dragging in the nets. I can see it now, we come back with our catch of the day- a dolphin. Do people actually eat dolphin? "No good," what does he mean no good? He pulls the net up and shows me a large hole in our net. "Dolphin", he says. I see the dolphin again performing for us all the way up and down our net line. "No fish, dolphin", Ketut says. Oh, now I understand. I concluded that what we had essentially been doing in dawn's early light was setting up a buffet line for this dolphin. More and more nets are dragged in with only small crabs attached. Ketut would try to fling the crabs back into the sea, but a third of them ended up in the bottom of our canoe- which was gradually taking on water from the loading of the nets. Sure enough, crabs where swimming by my exposed toes. Ketut thought it was funny. By the time all 100 yards of net sat in the boat, our fish count was one mackerel and the bottom of our boat swimming with crabs. Ketut cleared the boat of crabs except for that inevitable one which found my toe, and drew more laughter out of Ketut. One mackerel, our catch of the day, will sell back on shore for 1000 rupiah, about 12 US cents. Ketut wasn't angry. He happily motored back to shore, swapping stories with the other fishermen coming in. If I read the faces and gestures right during those conversations, Ketut carried a sense of pride. For on this day, Ketut caught the biggest fish, a tourist.