Odin’s Reward

Wagner said of Odin that the eye of the ancient god of the heaven is the moon whose reflection gazes out of the deep, and which, at last, when setting, sinks into the ocean. In Norse mythology, Odin is a widely revered god. He is depicted with one eye, a long beard and wields his spear, which is called Gungnir. The myth goes that Odin approached the guard of the well of wisdom, the giant Mimar, and offered to pay any price to drink water from the well. Mimar agreed, provided that Odin left one of his eyes at the bottom of the well. After drinking a horn full of the water, Odin plucked out his eye to complete the bargain. Afterwards, he felt that the wisdom he had gained was worth sacrificing his eye. One Saturday evening saw us dining under Odin’s watchful eye, the full moon. I planned this surprise romantic dinner by candlelight for my wife on the Cape Vidal beachfront to thank her for always being willing to get out of bed with me at 04:00 when I go fishing, helping me to carry the kayak down to the beach and back again, and never complaining about it. I knew I would reap the rewards for my selfless act afterwards. Perhaps I did! It was the source of the reward that surprised me the most. The next morning, with Odin’s eye still looming bright in the west and before the sun peeked over the ocean’s horizon in the east, we launched our kayaks on a calm sea. Shoals of mackerel made ripples on the surface of the water and whales were blowing and slapping their tails all around us. In spite of the shoals of mackerel, live bait proved difficult to come by. As soon as a kayak came close to a shoal, the baitfish would move away or disappear below the water. The mackerel that I managed to catch was on the small side, but I reckoned that small live bait would still outperform big dead bait any day. Before long, I was dragging two small live mackerels behind my kayak, with a few extra in the kayak’s live bait holder. I did not have to wait long. A screaming reel called me to action! I set the hooks with a few hard pulls on the paddle. While keeping the line tight, I pulled the second line in to keep the lines from tangling. There was a bend in my rod and a fish on my line! It did not take long to bring the yellowfin tuna to the kayak. It ended up in my hatch and was transformed into excellent seared tuna for breakfast. After the promising start, things went quiet. No reels screamed and none of the other kayak fishermen I spoke to had anything to show for their efforts. I headed for deeper water, hoping to attract a tuna or dorado to my bait. Nothing happened. The constant paddling against the Mozambican current was getting the better of me and I realised that I would have to head for shallower water out of the current if I was to make it back to the launch site. I paddled to just behind the backline with 6 m of water below me, and headed for the launch site. Suddenly, a rod bent and a reel screamed. There was a splash behind me, but before I could see what it was, the fish had disappeared beneath the surface. I set the hooks and the strong fish immediately started pulling me away from the breakers to deeper water. I could feel strong headshakes coming down the line, but could still not figure out what species of fish could be on the end of it. I managed to turn the fish, but it made a few more runs before succumbing to the line’s pressure. I managed to pull it to just below the kayak and noticed the distinct full moon-shaped markings on its flanks – my first queenfish ever! I realised that this must be Odin’s reward. Odin’s eye on the flank of the fish was gazing at me from the depths of the well of wisdom. With happiness in my heart and Odin’s reward in my hatch, I headed back to dry land. I did not immediately realise how big my reward actually was. Back on the beach, those in the know told me that it was a particularly large queenfish and that I should carefully record its weight and length. The fish stopped the scale at 12.3 kg and had a fork length of 108 cm. With a cell phone video of its weight and length, I was able to claim an Umgeni Kayak Fishing Club record. But that was not all. The fish was also heavier than the current South African record. I did not meet all the requirements to claim that record and will therefore not be troubling the South African recordholders anytime soon. Odin’s reward: a magnificent queenfish of 12.3 kg caught on a small live bait just behind the backline. Queenfish Queenfish can be found along the Mozambican coast and the KwaZulu-Natal North Coast from Durban northwards. The fish is most abundant in summer. Queenfish prefer small live bait fished on a drift, but can also be caught on jigs, small fillet baits such as those used for queen mackerel, as well as spoons and plugs. They stay around shallow pinnacles, reefs, wrecks, rocky points, ledges and in the surf zone around sandy beaches. The fish seem to prefer greener water conditions. Once hooked, the fight is characterised by a series of head shakes. Queenfish are good fighters that often jump high out of the water, but quickly succumb after their initial energy release. The fish has sharp spines on its back behind the head and in front of its anal fin that can deliver a painful sting. Be careful when handling them. Queenfish are not rated as a good edible fish. Odin’s myth will always remain a traditional story concerning old beliefs of supernatural beings. He was revered as the god of war, death, the sky, wisdom, poetry and magic. Catching a record-breaking queenfish was pure magic. So, who knows? Perhaps there is some truth to the ancient myth after all. References: Offshore kayak fishing, a comprehensive guide for Southern Africa by Scott Hunter, ISBN 987-0-620-56005-4www.wikipedia.comEarthandstarryheavenOdin