Tag: cayman islands

Sportfishing in the Cayman Islands

Published on by Capucine3 Comments

It was a gloomy morning in Grand Cayman, and the tarmac was still wet from the rain that heavily poured the previous night. We grabbed a quick breakfast at a coffee shop in Camana Bay, awaiting impatiently 8 o’clock to arrive. At the dock, Captain Jon, owner of Slackem Charters, and his First Mate Peri welcomed us aboard the ‘Keeping It Reel’ and showed us our ride and roof for the next 4 hours. The 62′ Ocean Sport Fisherman vessel was equipped with a spacious air-conditioned cabin, including a galley (kitchen), 3 state rooms (bedrooms) and 3 heads (bathrooms). It was large enough to accommodate our group of 10, and the crew of 2.

Since the weather seemed to clear out, I decided to climb upstairs and sit by the Captain. We slowly cruised towards the deep ocean. The usual calm and turquoise water was then choppy with shades of dark blues and greys, yet I could see some clear blue patches as we passed shallow areas. It wasn’t raining, but the clouds darkened the sky ahead making the picture beautiful and serene.

The 7 lines trolled behind the boat at different depths, and everyone was eager to catch a monster.

At times the waves picked up, and if I only knew the trick of starring at an immobile point in the boat instead of watching the moving sea, perhaps I wouldn’t have lost my breakfast croissant in the toilet. While I tried to stabilize my motion sickness, laid on the couch in the cabin and starring at the ceiling, I heard the Captain scream: “Fish, fish!” I jumped off my safe zone and hurried to the deck. Kayla, whose sea sickness was beat by excitement to catch a prey, grabbed hold of the rod. After sweat and strong efforts, she victoriously brought back the first mahi mahi onboard.

Back to my couch and to my ceiling… until I hear the captain once more: “Fish, fish!” It was a big one. I was dizzy, could barely balance myself on the deck, but what the heck -I haven’t come here just to stare at a ceiling! I was in, rod in hand, and ready to fight the beast. This is the moment when you hate yourself for gaining those extra few pounds from wine and cheese and slacking on workout and exercise. Captain Jon strapped me to the chair. I wanted to strangle everyone for their endless encouragement words that didn’t help at all: “You’re almost there!” “Ya right”, I yelled between two breathes. “I can see the line 100ft away!” My whole body was shaking, already aching for days. I want to die. I want to quit. No, I won’t quit. I’m gonna get this fish into this boat and thank it for the good fight. Then I’ll eat it. After sweating the last drop of water I had in my already dehydrated body, I saw the end of the tunnel, or rather the tail of the catch. It took 20 min, and a load of sweats and swears, but I reeled it onboard, and all by myself!

I didn’t feel sick anymore. I was too excited! IMG_5795 Everyone got turns to reel the rods.

Captain Jon thought at one point we had a marlin. I’ve never seen someone so excited! I’m still not sure what he yelled at Peri, maybe some fisherman slangs in a Caymanian patois. IMG_5839 On our way back, the sky growled and the thick black clouds released themselves. We sheltered ourselves comfortably inside the cabin and shared our experience.

When we returned to the dock, Captain Jon offered to filet our fishes. I couldn’t resist and went ahead and ate a big piece. I was followed by everyone else.

We thanked our crew and left with our ziploc bags. It was an amazing deepsea fishing experience with Slackem Charters. Captain Jon and his First Mate Peri were very helpful and knowledgeable. Not only their patience and work ethic made us feel very safe and comfortable, but their passion for the fish and the sea, and their willingness to go the extra mile made this day at sea a memorable experience. That day, we caught 10 mahi mahi. IMG_5849 And not that I want to brag, but I got the biggest one 😉

Island Life: A Year in the Making

Published on by Capucine3 Comments

I arrived on the 4th of July. Like many islanders, I came searching for a new light — to shake up the mold, create new experiences, and start a chapter of my own.

This wasn’t a plan. It showed up as an opportunity, at just the right time — when my heart needed recovery and my soul was ready to hold on to something new.

I’d never thought much about the Caribbean before. To me it was touristy, full of big hotels and all the things I usually avoid when I travel. But this wasn’t about backpacking. It was about leaving home, on my own, at an older age, and stepping into the unknown. I had no expectations — just a work permit, a one-way ticket, and an open heart.

The first months were tough. I missed friends, my dogs, the family I’d built over nine years. I missed the mountains, the lifestyle, the fresh air of the Canadian West Coast. I missed home. But there were reasons I was here. I needed to push through the loneliness and give myself over to this island life. After two months in an old hotel room, I found a small condo on the beach. When my co-worker Jo from Whistler arrived, it felt like a piece of home had followed me here. That’s when life began to shift.

Fourteen months later, I sit on my balcony with a latte, looking out at the Caribbean Sea, remembering it all. The taxi dropping me off, the humidity instantly claiming my hair. My toes in the ocean, marking the Caribbean as mine. My first kiss with a stingray. My first dive into the clear waters of the Antilles. Wakeboarding at sunset, hold on tight, convinced I’d be shark bait if I fell. Jetskiing rough seas, clinging to life. The parties, the too-much Jäger, the nights I thought I’d forget but now hold onto. The friends who came, the ones who left, the ones who lit the way for future dreams.

I remember the pride of welcoming my mom and friends into my little paradise. Walking barefoot to beachside lunches. Watching sunsets on the way home from work. Snorkeling in my front yard. A quick weekend with my mom in Cuba. Diving at dawn and showing up to work with a mask mark across my forehead. Cheering with my roommate as we bought a Jeep with two months left on our lease, a Riesling bottle in hand. The DJs, the boat parties, the famous Sunday Fundays. Like steering a small vessel, I navigated my island life through it all — sometimes with a bottle in hand (no judgment, it’s island living).

It’s been a wild ride — a rollercoaster of challenges, joy, and memories I’ll carry forever. No regrets.

Cayman Islands, I raise my glass to you: thanks for the ride. Ya man!