shark bait: pakin style

Instead of Spring break in Pohnpei, we have Easter break.  I’m going to go on a quick aside here.  I am always surprised to see this semantic mixing of church and state when I’m so used to living in a country reigned in by political correctness at every opportunity.  I went to the Post Office (it was closed, as is the case whenever I need to do something) and the sign on the door read: “The U.S. Post Office will be closed Thursday and Friday for reflection on the death and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  We will reopen on Monday.” And you better believe that our break between semesters was called “Christmas Break” and not “Holiday Break” or yet, “Winter Break.”  I’m all for including everybody, but you gotta love that honesty. 

Back to the story.  For Easter break, we had plans to visit Pakin, an atoll about 20 miles West of Pohnpei with less than 100 inhabitants.  For just $30 each, we reserved a round-trip vacation to the atoll via a small 20-foot open fishing boat.  After about ninety minutes of generally gentle seas, we arrived at the entrance to the lagoon that I’m assuming was blasted through the coral many years ago.  Pakin is composed of several small islands, some inhabited and some not, that surround the most crystal clear, light blue, warm water, that I’ve been lucky enough to experience.  Looking over the side of the boat, you can easily see 30 or 40 feet to the sandy bottom of the lagoon.  We camped out in one of the three rooms of the elementary school there due to the generosity of the lone Peace Corps volunteer in Pakin.  Our days were spent relaxing, swimming, and one day was spent exploring each of the small islands composing the atoll.  

A view from our boat as we entered the lagoon for the first time - the islands in the distance are inhabited by just a handful of people.  The color change of the water shows the relatively shallow rim of the lagoon quickly sloping into the deeper innermost water.

Basketball/volleyball court created entirely from grant money won by the Peace Corps member working there.  The school is at right, to the left is a nahs where some of us spent the night, and in front of that are solar panels powering the lights for the court at night.

Naturally, I brought my speargun with me in hopes of taking advantage of the beautiful and well-maintained coral structures there.  I asked around and on our second to last day, a young man agreed to take me out to where the good fishing is.  We swam for about a half an hour just to reach the beginning of the coral on the Western side of the main island.  Even at Ant Atoll, I’ve never seen coral of such variety and richness of colors.  I saw blue, red, yellow, and even purple coral that harbored large and small fish of equally dizzying diversity.  Floating lazily along the easy outward current, we each speared several fish which we deposited in a floating gasoline bucket for about an hour or so.  At a point, the man turned to me and asked if it was okay if we went outside the reef.  Up until this point, anytime someone talked about fishing, especially fishing outside the reef, they mentioned sharks.  “Pakin has many many sharks, maybe be careful when you go there…” Such is Pohnpeian advice, “maybe” be careful.  Not wanting to disappoint my new friend, and unwilling to make my way back alone, I agreed to come along.

We soared through a fast moving channel and I soon saw the vast royal blue wall of the Pacific Ocean coming into view up ahead.  The channel opened up quickly into an enormous coral canyon that surrounded me on three sides in an overwhelming semi-circle.  The staggering coral cliffs on either side of us sloped off at 90 degree angles into the deep blue nothingness of the unknown beneath.   I felt that at any moment gravity would overcome buoyancy and I would freefall to the deep, succumbing to the complete power of the ocean.  It took a while to get a grip of myself and start searching for fish again.  As soon as I did, I realized that the rumors about Pakin were completely true.  There were sharks everywhere.  Most were medium to small sized and only mildly curious at best.  It took some time for me to gain the confidence to spear a fish without worrying about the thieving aquatic predators.  In fact I only speared one outside the reef because I was so worried about losing my spear to the deep water and my semi-subconscious desire to be done fishing.  As soon as I did, I grabbed the fish and quickly swam to our catch bucket with my fish held high out of the water.  For all my fears though, none of the sharks were that interested.  Only one ever came less than ten feet from me, but I kept my gun pointed at him the whole time and I quickly overcame the opposing current to get out of his territory.  Getting back to the island after we were done was the worst part.  Tide was low and outgoing, so we had to swim around a maze of coral heads, pulling ourselves forward against the strong current one handhold and kick at a time.  In the end, our swim ended up being over four tiring hours long, but dinner was well worth it.

The next day, I was still exhausted, but I wanted to get one last swim in before we left.  I grabbed my mask and headed over to the pearl farm right down the beach from the school.  Pakin makes thousands of dollars a year from pearl farming and I wanted to catch a glimpse of this prosperous industry.  The farm consisted of buoys holding up long ropes that extended deep into the water where there are large oysters attached.  The oysters had just been harvested so the ropes were empty, but I swam 30 or 40 feet down to the sandy bottom where there was one lone coral head.  As I made my way down, I noticed an enormous school of fish trying to escape from me, or as I like to think, leading me down to the bottom.  When I arrived, they all clustered around the coral in a shimmering metallic blue cloud, undulating with the shifting water.  With every movement I made, they hid deeper and deeper into the cavities and crevasses of the coral head.  But when I pushed my feet off the bottom and shot upward, thousands of fish exploded from the coral in a dizzying display of underwater fireworks.  I went back down several times and each submersion produced the same incredible effect.  Never before have I seen such an awesome, Awesome with a capital A, natural occurrence.

 Pakin understandably left me feeling energized, relaxed, and exhausted at the same time, and I can’t wait until the day I am lucky enough to return.

Pretty much the front yard of the school.  I can imagine it would be hard to get work done here.  If it were a clearer day, you would be able to see Pohnpei looming behind the islands on the other side of the lagoon.  This picture was taken facing East.

WorldTeach and Peace Corps volunteers exploring the island for the first time.

Pigs roam the island freely and can frequently be found rummaging on the beach with a face full of sand.

Sunset on the second night.

Mike turning into a werewolf under the moon.

Sunsets get better with age.

wizards in white: kitti in championship week

The whole month of February was spent preparing for an island-wide set of athletic competitions called Championship Week.  During this week, the three public high schools compete against each other in volleyball (the most prestigious and talent-filled sport), basketball (also prestigious but less impressive), track and field (impressive in the shorter races which rely more on natural ability than consistent practice), and baseball (which –at my school at least – made you wonder, “Why bother?”). 

A view from the historical Spanish Wall in Kolonia.  The baseball field is to the left and Kaselehlie Street is straight ahead.

A right-sided view from the Spanish wall.  Adjacent to the baseball field is the basketball court which can be seen behind the big tree.

In preparation for this week, we had a month-long irregular school schedule which is slang for the ubiquitously joyful half-day.  The only snag was that it caused much more stress than necessary.  In the States, it is normal for sports practice to take place after school – a fact that I appreciate a lot more now that I know what it is like to teach for a full day and then be expected to function afterward.  For one reason or another, it was not feasible to hold practice after school and the administration was forced to find time for practice during the day.  Originally, we shortened our three 90 minute periods to just 60 minutes, and spent third period at practice.  However, this caused community concerns since the majority of the school could not qualify for one of the 15-member sports teams and instead spent third period drifting around the school chewing betelnut  – or whatever it is kids do these days.  In response, it was decided that we would go back to the normal block schedule, and teachers who were also coaches would hold class in addition to practice during third period.  What a headache.  The challenge: I was expected to assign work without teaching my class how to do it, hold them accountable to it in my absence, find a way to provide feedback (as is necessary in all teaching) without also being in class the next day, and – the icing on the cake – keep student-athletes in my own class responsible for the work in THEIR absence.  Oh, and I almost forgot, coach a track team.  My students actually complained that they wanted me back in class with them because it was too stressful not to have me there.  That’s not something a teacher hears every day. 

Coaching, though enjoyable and ultimately rewarding, was not much better.  Track and Field requires a work ethic that is constant, long-term, and personally sacrificial.  Had I a year to hone their abilities and instill these characteristics – even a four month track season – Kitti Track & Field would be something to seriously contend with.  And it’s not that the team didn’t have heart – in fact that is precisely why they would be such a powerhouse – it’s because when your practice gets cancelled 2-3 days a week from rain and school schedule anomalies, and then when there is practice it consists of running around a 150 meter muddy field, you never have time to develop a killer workout schedule or bloodthirsty work ethic.  On average, I had about six guys who practiced with me on a consistent basis (meaning, when practice wasn’t cancelled, they were there) and one to two girls.  The rest were presumably too naturally talented to require practice (besides, it’s running, you don’t need to practice running) or attending their much needed basketball/baseball/volleyball practice.  Instead of getting frustrated, I focused all my energy on this handful of athletes and designed workouts that – in an ironic way – punished them for their allegiance to me.  They ran without shoes, without proper running clothes, without a track, and without a break from the hot sun beating down on their necks.  They were the some of the most dedicated runners I’ve ever seen, yet they achieved a fraction of their potential because of structural and organizational barriers that prevented them from getting good and staying good.  There was a ton of natural talent – and more heart than a cardiology clinic – but the impediments to success were profound. 

Championship week was really only three days and a different sport was more or less highlighted each day, the last day reserved for Track & Field only.  Kitti faced three opponents: Madolenihmw High School, PICS I, and PICS II – the last high school being the biggest, was split up into two separate teams.  We had incredible boys victories in volleyball and basketball (credit due in part to some of my absent runners), and a disappointing last place finish in baseball, where I saw more errors per play than in some entire Major League baseball seasons.   In track, we had some incredible sprint competitions and amazing displays in the middle distances.  One of my runners – who had ripped a chunk of skin off his foot only three days prior while running barefoot – made a come-from-behind victory in his  400m heat - blasting past his opponents in the last 20m of the race and setting a personal record of 61 seconds.  After seeing his foot on Tuesday, I predicted that he wouldn’t be able to walk correctly on Friday, let alone run and win a race with such an astounding time.  He predicted it wouldn’t be a big deal, and sure enough, the man with the biggest heart on the team carried us to a third place overall finish in the 400m.  It literally brought me to tears. 

In a nail-biter finish, we won the 4x100m relay and ended up also winning the entire track meet.  I was happy that we won, although a small lingering part of my mind wonders just how much better we could have been with necessary resources and a different approach.  Leave it up to the perfectionist in me to never be satisfied.  Although our combined victories were not enough to win Championship Week (Kitti scored just 9 points below PICS I out of a couple hundred) it was a successful week.  I might have done some irreversible sun-damage to my skin but I had a great time coaching and I enjoyed getting to know my students outside of class.  As far as sports goes, if the mentality towards running ever changes in Pohnpei, the world better had better watch out for a new class of Olympic runner.

Despite their relatively short stature, these Pohnpeian high school volleyball players soared above the net.

The crowd enjoying the volleyball game from the shade of a beautiful tree.

My student, at center, lead the basketball team as the point guard.  The guy on the right with his back to me is the fastest high schooler on the island and was one of the few people who could actually rely solely on his natural talent to win races...I still would have liked to see him at my practices.

There is a huge rivalry between PICS (in maroon), and Kitti (in white).  This is from the championship game which we went on to win by a small margin.

The first to second leg handoff during the 4x100m race at the end of the meet.  Amazingly, few people tripped over the sizable wrinkles in the track surface.

Finals for the 100m dash.  Kitti's two fastest runners are at the left, and they went on to claim the title as the two fastest high schoolers on the island.

Despite the condition of the track, I would kill for my runners to have access to this in Kitti.  Needless to say, the day of the meet, weather was beautiful and the setting was stunning.

it means "big mountain"

 Last weekend, three other volunteers, ten or so local guides, thirteen dogs, and I began our journey from Salapwuk, Kitti to the top of the tallest mountain in the FSM - Nahnalaud.  The first day was spent hiking over grueling mountains, through swift rivers, and across long expanses of muddy jungle.  We spent the night under a rock overhang facing the peak of Nahnalaud and enjoyed deer, pigeon, and chickens caught by the pack of dogs or shot out of the sky with rifles.  We woke up early the next morning and after waiting for the rain to clear, began our hike straight up to the summit.  Using our hands just as much as our legs to pull us up the steep face, we finally arrived at the top where we were engulfed in clouds.  Twice, the clouds briefly gave way to allow us a stunning view of the Kitti lagoon, but we were otherwise lost in a sea of mist.  Instead of returning via the same path, we departed Nahnalaud from the other side of the mountain and lost track of any definable trail.  Bushwhacking with machetes, our guides led us over a jungle of decomposition towards our starting point in Salapwuk.  Our steps were uncertain as we trudged through knee deep mud, rocks covered in slime, logs eaten apart by months of rot, holes in the ground disguised by leaves, and prickly vegetation that left our legs scratched, bruised, and sore.  It was one of the most strenuous hikes I've ever been on, but also one of the most rewarding.  Due to camera issues, I was not able to get as many pictures as I would have liked, but you can check out Mike Hilbert's blog if you want to see some more.

Looking over the edge of one of the waterfalls on the Six Waterfall Hike I wrote about earlier this year.

Standing at the top of the heart-shaped waterfall at the end of the Six Waterfall Hike.

Matt, a former WorldTeach volunteer who joined us on the hike.  This river snakes several miles through Kitti and later becomes the river in the mangroves from which we launch our boats.

Taking a break for lunch during the first day of hiking.  Mike, Andrew, and Matt are filling up on a healthy dose of deer that the pack of dogs managed to bring down.  Tropical deer tastes more like chicken or dog than it does like the venison we are used to in the U.S.

Setting up camp under the rock overhang where we spent the night.  The cave is decorated with graffiti from teenagers who make the rite of passage to the summit of Nahnalaud.

Mike looking out from the cave toward the hazy summit of Nahnalaud in the distance.

I didn't get any good pictures from the summit of Nahnalaud but this is a great view North from one of the smaller peaks neighboring Nahnalaud.  Kolonia is just barely visible in the distance.

A panoramic view from our bird's nest looking North.  The peak of Nahnalaud is behind us to the right.

spring showers bring May flower-apples

Sorry for the lack of updates – the spring semester has brought with it many new commitments and responsibilities that have occupied my time.  To say that that second semester is better than the first is a big understatement though.  I have two senior honors classes where I am teaching Pre-Calculus and a sophomore honors class that I’m teaching Algebra I.  My seniors are getting ready for the COMET (College of Micronesia Entrance Test) that determines whether or not they can attend COM National or State campus in addition to receiving several thousands of dollars of Pell Grant money from the U.S. Government.  Many of my students’ families are relying on them to pass this test in order to receive this needed money.   It will be hard for me to take credit for their success though because they had a fabulous Algebra II teacher last semester that did most of the legwork in their preparation.  It has been amazing to get students who are prepared, motivated, and enthusiastic about their work…I’m confident that they will all do very well on this test.  We’ll see how the classes go after the COMET is done though – luckily, my classroom lacks rafters for my students to swing from.  

A typical sight on a walk home from school - elementary school children starting large fires and playing in them.  They were swatting the flames with sticks and the wood catching fire sounded like booming fire crackers.  I could see my kid self being friends with these guys in a parallel universe.

The smoke from the fires forced us to run down the street for fresh air.

But it's never too smoky to resist a photo opportunity with my favorite neighborhood kids.

My free time has been spent doing a lot of official WorldTeach stuff (mid-service evaluations) but there were some fun things peppered in there as well.  For instance, on WorldTeach’s tab, we got to go snorkeling through Manta Ray Pass and I swam just 20 feet above a gigantic manta ray with probably an 8-10 ft wingspan.  Unfortunately, I have not done any significant fishing since Pingelap – a huge bummer, but hopefully I’ll make it out again soon.  This weekend, I made plans with a man from my church to hike Nanalaud – allegedly the highest peak in the FSM.  It’ll take a day to hike to the summit where we will spend the night in a cave of sorts, and then hike down the next morning.  I will be sure to post many pictures from that excursion once we return!

Coming back from snorkeling Manta Ray Pass.  In this picture, we're above a reef by the Northeastern side of Pohnpei.

A signature Mike Hilbert picture.  We just finished lunch on Langer Island - the location of an old Japanese military outpost.  You can still explore abandoned bunkers, cannons, and an old airplane hanger.  The concrete slab we're standing on is the remains of the runway used by Japanese planes.

 Last weekend, we stayed in Kitti for a “local” weekend instead of our all too common “mehnwai” weekends.  There was a gathering which drew all the Protestant sister churches together for one big church festival.  On Saturday, Gabrielle and I sat down at 10am for the first service, and did not leave the church until 6pm with the exception of a short lunch break.  Everyone always talks about how you cannot be a true “Ohl en Pohnpei” (man from Pohnpei) unless you have sakau, pigs, and yams, but I don’t think you can be considered a man unless you sit through 6+ hours of church without falling asleep.  My old host father, Eksel, was kind enough to nudge me awake a few times when my head got a little droopy.  I guess that means that I’m not a boy, but not quite a man either.  Maybe if I spear a shark next time I go out, I’ll get some street cred back.

On Sunday, the congregations dutifully returned for the last day of service and I witnessed a really interesting phenomenon.  Instead of people making donations to a basket as it is passed along, the basket was placed in the front of the church and people made their way up to the alter to make a one dollar donation to the host church.  One by one, people began singing a song until the whole congregation was belting it out in unison and everyone was lining up at the front to make their contribution.  Then, they began circling around the perimeter of the pews and returning to the front to make another dollar donation.  This magnanimous dance circle continued for the next 45 minutes never once stopping its donations.  Some people only made it a few times around the circle and others – namely, some of the politicians or businessmen – stayed in the circle for the entire duration of the ceremony.  In the end, after three men finished furiously counting the one dollar bills, it was determined that the church had raised over $1400.  It was amazing to see people who struggle to live on their meager allowances get together and collectively give away so much of their hard-earned money.  In all my dealings with people, I’ve never see a place like Pohnpei that has so little to give, give so much. 

For now, I've got to start preparing dinner for the wife but I'll soon fill you in on my Track & Field coaching and upcoming hike.  Happy February!

A path that we walk through to on the way to and from school.  I like the trees shading us in this section of jungle.  Gabrielle can be seen in the distance.

Tropical apples plucked from a tree right behind our house.  When they are ripe, they taste like a mix between what flowers smell like and what Granny Smith apples taste like - a nice flowery apple.  You can plop the whole thing into your mouth in one bite, and neighborhood kids are always coming over to fill up their pockets.

when pigs fly

In several of my science classes, we discussed the bottleneck effect, where some sort of natural disaster kills a large percentage of a population and thus reduces their genetic diversity.  Many times, the Pingelap Atoll (an outer island about 180 miles from Pohnpei) was the subject of discussion because of a terrible typhoon that almost wiped out the whole island in the late 1700s.  One of the few survivors had an extremely rare genetic disease called achromatopsia  and as the island was repopulated, the incidence of this disorder was more prevalent than almost anywhere else in the world.  In the scientific community, the atoll is quite well known, and it had become a distant but passionate goal of mine to visit Pingelap one day.  On December 26^th, six other volunteers and I got the opportunity to board a supply ship headed there for the holidays. 

For only $11, we boarded the Caroline Voyager or as I like to call it, the Hell Express.  Along with a full cargo of gasoline barrels, rice, pigs, chickens, and people, we boarded the cramped boat and departed after the sun had set in the evening.  Our tickets afforded us – at least nominally – a spot under a tent on the deck of the ship.  The only problem was that we got there after every spot had pretty much been taken by passengers and their belongings.  It was about a 12 hour overnight journey to Mwokil and I had a solid 5x2 ft area of space to sleep.  Since we were on the front end of the ship, our tent was breaking all of the wind – many of the people sleeping on the edges of the deck got quite a rude awakening from the mighty body slam of a Pacific gust.  Not to mention, as our ship nose dived into extremely disconcerting swells, blasts of salt water would shoot through the openings and soak everyone not wearing a rain jacket (me).  Several times throughout the night, I had to wipe away the salt crystals crusting my face.  I awoke once to find that my feet were in the product of someone else’s seasickness and don’t even get me started about the trials of trying to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Believe it or not, this is before things got crowded inside the tent.

Early in the morning in Mwokil.  The tent behind Gabrielle can be seen at the apex of one its wallops it was delivering to the passengers.

I got up around 5am, stepped out of the tent, and was greeted by one of the most beautiful starry skies I’ve ever seen, phosphorescing fish surrounding the ship, and the dim outlines of a coconut tree-framed island a few hundred yards to the East of our bow.  As the sun began to rise over the sliver of land we had somehow arrived at, a parade of small 15-horsepower boats approached the ship to start ferrying supplies from the ship to Mwokil Atoll.  We stayed until late-morning off-loading huge packages of food, supplies, and oil drums that were taken individually by boat back to the beach.  In the meantime, we passed time trying to find the highest structures on the ship to make giant leaps and flips from – these ship captains will let you do just about anything you want.  Eventually, we pulled up anchor and made a 6 or 7 hour voyage to Pingelap where we arrived in the evening.

Pigs were literally flying as we offloaded in Mwokil.  Carefully positioned boats aside our ship retrieved the cargo as it was hoisted by a crane.

Taken in the evening from our ship as we approached Pingelap.  The strip of land lacking trees is the Pingelap airstrip.  To the right of the airstrip is where Aida and Ehlis live, and behind the airstrip is the very small lagoon.

We were greeted by several large bonfires on the beach that reminded us that there were actually people living out there in such a remote part of the ocean.  Once we made it ashore, we were greeted by Aida (pronounced Ida) one of the most entrepreneurial islanders I’ve ever met who started the first hotel on Pingelap (Neime Beach Resort) and ran the movie theater (a tiny room filled with benches and a TV).  We were actually to be the first patrons of the Neime Beach Resort which was just finished in the recent months.  The hotel was located at the tip of the Pingelap airstrip, on the beach, adjacent to the airport terminal (a four-walled structure with a solar-panel and a radio).  Aida and Ehlis Earnest were some of the most hospitable and generous people I’ve ever met.  For a mere $5 a night and $2.50 for three square meals a day, we stayed on their property and in my opinion grew to be very close.  Their English was exceptionally good – in part, I think, to a more disciplined educational system in Pingelap and because they were host to the Peace Corps volunteers in past years.

The Neime Beach Resort where we stayed.  Gabrielle and i stayed in the open-walled hut in the forefront and Mike and Joe stayed in the one behind us.  The ocean is just out of the frame to the right.

The main road that stretches along the Southern island.  Much of Pingelap consists of abandoned houses - remnants of more populous days.

A large church where a wedding was held during our stay.

Two men looking West at a view they only get to see once or twice a year.

 During our stay, we passed the time complimenting Aida on her delicious meals, snorkeling, swimming, fishing, hiking all the way around the atoll, and staring up at the diamonds suspended in the night sky.  Ehlis also indulged me in a fishing trip outside the reef that his brother, Hosan, took us on at 6 in the morning.  Due to the gas availability and horsepower constraints of his engine, we only caught a dozen or so fish; but it was amazing to be out in the swells watching the sun rise lazily above the thick jungle sprouting out of the water in the distance.  I was snapped out of my daze when a bite on my line almost ripped me out of the boat.  I struggled to reel in the 100 lb line by hand and found that I had caught a 3-4 ft ugly sonofabitch that I later discovered was a very delicious Maimai (pronounced my-my).  Ehlis spent 10 minutes trying to beat the thing into submission and we turned the boat back to the land, satisfied with our catch.

When we got back to the beach, I was anointed a Pingelapese fisherman in their true cultural tradition.  Six or seven people waited for me – I spotted Aida approaching me with a smile and hands outstretched.  Thinking I was getting a hug, I leaned in and she yanked me out of the boat into the shallow waters with a hearty laugh.  Without hesitation, she started splashing me with water and continued by pouring half a bottle of coconut oil into my hair and rubbing it all over my face.  She concluded by lovingly bestowing hand-made flower mwaramwars and a flower lei over my head and around my neck.  Taken aback, but amused, I posed for pictures that the Pingelapese mayor insisted we take.  Although it’s possible I was part of a big practical joke, I was glad to see that they were keeping their cultural traditions alive. 

After returning from the fishing trip in the early morning and being traditionally welcomed.  Ehlis and Aida Earnest are holding tunas on the right; Hosan and a woman I don't know are on the left.  The picture was taken by the mayor who insisted that I email it to him.

We reluctantly left Pingelap on the 31^st and spent New Years on a listing ship, but I felt so fortunate for the past week.  The island is experiencing another sort of bottleneck effect as an enormous percentage of the population is abandoning their home for a more modern lifestyle in Pohnpei (less than 250 people now reside in Pingelap).  But, hopefully the island itself will survive rising sea levels and typhoons long enough for me to return one day.

On the Northern end of the Southern Atoll, with our backs facing the channel.  One of the most incredible spots in the world.

The moon waited for its turn to set after the sun was finished.

out of the can

Last Saturday, Gabrielle and I got the opportunity to do some tuna fishing outside of the reef with my neighbor, an accomplished fisherman and teacher at my school.  Excited to try my hand at something other than spearfishing and crabbing, I woke up with Gabrielle around 5 in the morning to get to the docks in time for sunrise.  We rode the boat through swells that erased the horizon  until we were a couple miles offshore - about halfway to Ant Atoll.  After a half hour or so of fruitless searching for birds, we saw a flock far off in the distance and the driver pushed up the engine to its limits.  As soon as we got to the flock, we were literally engulfed by birds.  Apparently, since both the tuna and the birds eat the same kind of small fish, the birds can be found wherever there are schools of tuna beneath the surface of the water. 

We dropped our lines in the water and began trolling through the waves hoping for a bite.  Almost immediately, the driver, my neighbor, and I simultaneously got bites on each of our lines.  We furiously pulled in our lines by hand and each retrieved a tuna that was easily the largest fish I've ever caught in my life.  To my amazement, my neighbor was disappointed that we had come across a school of the "small tunas." Regardless, we worked our way through the water and caught fish almost continuously for an hour or so.  Usually, all three of us would get a bite at the exact same time, we'd reel the fish in, remove the hook, slam the tuna's head into the boat to knock it out, and then throw it to Gabrielle who would deposit the catch into the cooler. 

By virtue of the fact that we were fishing tunas, the water we were fishing in was also filled with sharks.  So, whenever we got a bite, it was a race to reel the fish in before the sharks could get to the tuna on our lines.  At one point, I was pulling in my line when I felt a stronger than normal tug and I saw a shark practically jump out of the water trying to get my fish.  It happened so close to the boat that I thought I had actually snagged a shark and was about to bring it aboard with us.  Luckily, I beat out the shark and got my fish on board before it could steal my hard-earned catch.  At one point, I jumped off the boat to relieve myself and while I was in the water I asked my neighbor if I should be concerned about sharks.  Nonchalantly, he replied "Nah."  After a pause, he added, "They wouldn't be able to finish you." Needless to say, I was not very successful at getting relaxed enough to use the bathroom for the two minutes I was in the water. 

In the end, we each caught around 20-30 tunas and filled a respectably-sized cooler to the brim.  I kept 7 of these and consequently my freezer has little room for anything other than fish.  I have learned that they make great gifts though - tuna meat is prized for sashimi - and I was able to pay back several of my other neighbors for their past generosity.  Now, I'm just looking forward to the day that I get to reel in one of the BIG tunas. 

The man in charge of piloting our small 40 hp boat.  I have no idea how he was able to see through the rain that was falling nearly horizontally as we bounced through the swells.  I believe that Pohnpei is looming behind the clouds somewhere in the background of this picture.

This is about as dry as I got through the duration of our trip.

At around 9am, we stopped for breakfast.  Delicious.  A tuna like this is prepared by cutting it like so, and dipping the raw chunks of meat into a mixture of seawater, lime juice, and sele - a locally grown hot pepper.  The four of us finished this fish off in a couple minutes.

Our cooler on its way to become filled up with tuna.  The remnants of breakfast are in the yellow bowl and will probably become crab bait sometime in the future.

My neighbor relaxing in the front of the boat while returning from a long morning of fishing.  We're approaching the channel that runs through Black Coral Island - a beautiful uninhabited island that locals use for vacations.  Again, if it were a clear day, you would see Pohnpei in the distance of this picture.

A tuna heart.  To hold us over until breakfast, we reached through the gills of our tunas and ripped a few of these out to eat for a snack.  A couple of mine were still beating as I plopped them into my mouth!

Getting ready to gut a couple of the tunas.  The one in my right hand is a Yellowfin tuna - the only one we caught out of our enormous array of Bluefins.