Fishing with the San Antonio Fishermen

The fishermen of Sant Antoni

The time is 3:15am, the place: Sant Antoni harbour. In spite of the chilly air the West end is still quite lively. Some scantily clad holidaymakers walk unsteadily through the darkness, ignoring the cold (11 C). Such summer scenes are perfectly commonplace for the four man crew of the "Tanit Dos", a fishing boat on which we are going out today, to fish off the bay of Sant Antoni.
What is awaiting these fishermen is neither a leisure trip nor a soft bed to relax on, but a hard day's work.

The "Tanit Dos" is ready to set sail. Skipper Jose Luis Riera is running the diesel engines. Toni and Pepe are casting off the ropes. The weather forecast has predicted a light wind, so there will be a calm sea. Jose Luis steers the 21-metre long boat out of the harbour. The course today lies in the direction of Es Vedra. On other days these fishermen also fish off Portinatx or Sant Miquel. In the dark of the night the pier and fun seeking tourists fall back and disappear.

It is 3.27am" Jose Luis has settled comfortably into the skipper's seat on the bridge, an old car seat on which he sits in state as if on a throne. The early hour notwithstanding, his eyes are fixed on the sea and the monitors. He revs up the engine, and the vessel rolls and sways in a fashion that, to the stomach of a landlubber like myself, is quite unsettling. This is why my colleagues, Mike and Sara, have swallowed a seasickness pill before even setting foot on the vessel.

Jose Luis is amused by our queasy looks; after 30 years at sea this sort of gentle swell is not going to trouble him in the slightest. Also, he is from a sea-faring family - even his great-grandfather was a fisherman. The sea is in his blood, so to speak. Fishing is still a family business: the "Tanit Dos", the biggest fishing vessel in Sant Antoni, is jointly owned by Jose Luis and his brother Antonio. Antonio is the vessel's engineer.

The lights of the Bahia Sant Antoni are slowly moving past us, the lighthouse on Conejera is to starboard. Scores of squealing seagulls are following our fishing boat at short distance. Pepe sets the autopilot and leans back in his "throne". "The boat knows the way," he jokes. He cannot ignore the sea completely, though, for the autopilot does not notice other vessels. At this early hour, however, there is neither commuter nor tourist traffic on the sea.

In calm weather, therefore, the trip to the best fishing grounds must rank as pleasant and relaxing rather than rough and challenging. If the weather permits the fishermen go out every day except Saturday and Sunday. Their alarm clocks rouse them from their slumbers at about 2:30 am, and they rarely sleep more than three or four hours per night.

The working day of a fisherman is long, he is out for nearly 12 hours every day. If the net bursts or is otherwise damaged, or there is engine trouble, this may easily become 15 hours. In consequence they have no time for ordinary family life, except at weekends during the summer months and in the winter when bad weather allows them to spend a little more time with their families.

The continuous even roar of the engine makes me drowsy, and the rolling movements of the ship have the same effect as a rocking cradle. The crew are in their bunks. Till the net is cast the skipper alone has to stay awake. Mike, the photographer, and my colleague Sara lie down on the hard benches of the galley - they are feeling the first symptoms of seasickness. The "Tanit Dos" chugs past Conejera and the tiny islands of Ses Bledes. The crystal clear waters off the Cala Comte coast remain cloaked in darkness.

Jose Luis is chatting away about his work. He has not experienced any really difficult situations in his career, though he has repeatedly been forced to take his vessel to Eivissa harbour rather than Sant Antoni due to the antics of the weather. A responsible skipper will never underestimate the Mediterranean. Experience helps, but there always remains a risk on every trip. "If you take a car and can't drive you'll get into trouble, but if you have 30 years experience you are bound to travel much more safely."�

4:40 am: The crew are preparing their gear. The trawling net, 60 metres long and weighing 500 kilos, is eased into the water for the first time of the day. Depending on the size of the catch the net is cast out up to three times per trip. At the boat's stern Toni and Pepe check how the net is unwinding. Antonio is at the drum. Jose Luis increases the speed of the boat to prevent the steel cables that hold the net from getting into a tangle. The boat is going to drag the net along the bottom of the sea for about 1 1/2 hours. The result of a day's hard work: 300 to 500 kilos of fresh fish. The first part of the day's job is done and the crew retire to their bunks.

A rare catch: a large langoustine has been hauled in

5:45 am: The "Tanit Dos" has reached a position off Cala Vedella. In the distance the outline of Es Vedra is becoming visible against the slowly dawning light of the new day. For the next few miles the crescent of a young moon is still visible above Cala d'Hort and the sky above Sant Antoni is taking on all the hues of a sunset at the Cafe del Mar.

Meanwhile the escort of seagulls accompanying the vessel has grown to number several hundred, all excitedly shrieking and fighting for position, for they know that it is feeding time. On sturdy wings they circle the vessel, which is making about 8 knots through the gentle swell. Occasionally, a seagull perches on a mast to enjoy a lift and a vantage seat.

6:45 am. Off Es Vedra Jose Luis runs down the engine. The catch is to be hauled onboard. There is rising excitement on the boat. How much will they have caught? Since the members of the crew are entitled to a share of the catch they are pleased when the net is well filled with twisting and struggling fish, but whether a day is successful or not is only decided in the course of the afternoon.

Even if a boat returns to port fully laden this does not mean that skipper and crew have earned much, for if only a few choosy wholesale fishmongers or restaurant owners frequent the auction hall of the co-operative the fishermen's cashbox will remain empty.

One would think that there is a lively demand for fresh fish on Ibiza. Far from it "in fact, sales have been declining for the past five consecutive years. Trawlers fishing in the Mediterranean are not yet affected by over-fishing of the sea" in contrast to the fishermen who work from small boats, in shallow waters close to the shore. It is constantly getting harder for these men to earn a living.

"People go to the supermarket and buy deep frozen fish. No bones, no trouble cleaning the fish," says Pepe. Another problem is that the prices Ibicenco fishermen are paid are nowhere near what customers pay in the market, for there is strong competition from imports from mainland Spain, the former Yugoslavia, Morocco, Portugal and other places.

The work after the catch proper: the fish are washed down with sea water, sorted into boxes and placed in the refrigerated store room

7:15 am: The 350 metre long steel cable is being wound up on the winch, an outsized spool or reel, making a dry, explosive noise all the while. The trawling net has been hauled in and its contents emptied on the deck. There is a powerful smell of fish. Before Pepe and Toni deal with the fish they have to clean the net, remove kelp, algae, stones, and other undesirable objects. Once this job is finished Antonio can press a button and the last metres of the net can be wound up on that giant drum.

Hundreds of glittering fish, small and big, are writhing on the deck: San Pedros, Rojas, sprats, sea-devils, rays, squid, calamares, a langoustine. Between them beer and coke cans, old bottles, plastic bags, yoghurt cups and more assorted rubbish. Occasionally, there are washing machines or car tyres in the catch.

Hundreds of gills are struggling for water and oxygen. Squid are crawling across the deck. One of them manages to squeeze through a gap in the gunwale and drops back into his native element with a splash. I congratulate him secretly, and feel tempted to throw the rest of the catch after him.

Inedible creatures are thrown back into the water, to the delight of the seagulls

An important part of the crew's work begins at this stage. The catch has to been sorted into plastic boxes according to the respective variety of fish. The bigger fish are knocked out against the floor and stop wriggling. Corals, starfish, snails, crayfish, other small or inedible marine creatures are thrown back into the sea.

The cloud of seagulls we have been trailing behind us is now seething with excitement. Breakfast is being served on silver platters, in a manner of speaking. A screaming, screeching whirlwind swoops down onto the water's surface. The spectacle is reminiscent of Hitchcock's "Birds". Before the last fish has been sorted the trawling net has been cast out again. Breakfast is next, but only after the catch has been covered with crushed ice and the deck cleaned.

Jose Luis is now moving back and forth across the waters south of Es Vedra . The sea is about 100 metres deep here. Having hauled in the net a second time the skipper heads back to Sant Antoni. Today is Friday, so the demand for fish for the following day tends to be limited and an early night can be justified.

The "Tanit Dos" reaches its home port of Sant Antoni around 1 pm. Together, the crew unload the boxes with their freshly caught contents onto Antonio's lorry. The catch is taken to the "Cofradia" near the pier where it is weighed. It is here that the decision on success or failure of their long working day is made. There are more fishermen in the tiled rooms of the co-operative.

from the right: Skipper Jose; Luis, his brother Antonio, Pepe and Toni

In the course of the next hour a few wholesalers appear in their pick-up vans and inspect the fish. but the fishermen are out of luck and the crew of the "Tanit Dos" are not going to make a good deal. Antonio makes a special effort calling up some of his regular customers on his mobile phone, but without success - he reaps nothing but refusals.

Pepe and Toni are shovelling ice into bags for the next trip and take it to the boat to fill the store room of the "Tanit Dos". After consuming a fish stew, which Toni started preparing before the boat passed Conejera, we can at last call it a day. Todoay, the fishermen are going to be home as early as 4 pm. The weekend awaits them.

Monday morning at 2:30 am their alarm clocks will rouse them from their sleep again. As Jose Luis Riera puts it: this type of working week can only be tolerated if one is born into it"