When you're asked to accompany an editor from a windsurfing magazine on a trip, one obvious question immediately pops into your head: How can you fish a place that's windy enough to draw windsurfing fanatics from all over the world? Since I'd heard of good catches of blue marlin from the Canary Islands and had received several brochures showing fish in the 700- to 900-pound range, I knew I'd find fish there -- but at what price to life and limb? I went along on the premise that it was going to be a really bad trip for one of us, and that hopefully it wouldn't be me.
As I peered out of the airplane window on our descent into Grand Canary, my worst fears were realized: Strong winds whipped the ocean into a frenzy, with whitecaps spreading out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Upon landing I noticed the presence of giant modern-day windmills spinning furiously to generate electricity while stunted palms fought a losing battle against the blustery winds, their fronds leaning over perpendicular to the ground. Even the farmlands need shelter from the constant blow, leading farmers here to rig elaborate windbreaks from wire and cloth that totally cover huge areas of land like enormous greenhouses.
Tom James, editor of WindSurfing magazine and the guy who talked me into the trip, grinned from ear to ear. "Kinda windy, huh?" he asked. I knew right then that I was in trouble.
But, as luck would have it, I really didn't know anything at all.
A Most Unusual Place
Grand Canary is one of the largest of the seven islands that make up the Canary Islands archipelago, which lies along the 38th parallel off the west coast of Africa. A Spanish territory, the island enjoys a climate that few in the world can match for its sunny skies and idyllic average temperatures -- ranging from 65 degrees in the winter to 75 degrees in the summer. Rory Vega, one of my fishing companions on the trip and native of the island, says of the weather here, "It feels like zero degrees all the time, not hot and not cold."
But just saying the island has sunny skies and pleasant average temperatures can be a little misleading, since Grand Canary packs several different climates and ecosystems into its 30-mile diameter and roughly 700 square miles of surface area. So many climates, in fact, that Grand Canary is nicknamed "the miniature continent."
On my recent visit in the month of August, I stayed in Las Palmas, the island's capital city, which lies on the easternmost shore of the island about a 40-minute drive from the ports and tourist areas on the island's southwest end. Every morning I awoke to gray overcast skies, which quickly gave way to sunshine the farther west I traveled. Without exception, the weather would be windy, cloudy and cooler to the east and sunny, flat-calm and clear to the west. You could actually see a windbreak on the water as you drove down the coastal highway. I soon learned that the airport lies in the windiest part of the island, so it is no wonder that I thought I was going to be in for a pounding once offshore.
The secret to the island's unique climate lies in the constantly blowing trade winds and the high mountains (reaching over 6,000 feet) in its center. When the trade winds collide with the mountains, they rise and drop their moisture. This creates a mild, moist climate in the northeast, complete with high pine and evergreen forests. Along the coastal zones of the leeward end of Grand Canary, a hotter, drier climate creates a landscape that looks very much like the desert Southwest in the United States. Rocky canyons and cliffs provide breathtaking vistas and interesting rock formations all the way down to the vast sand dunes that line the ocean and draw an estimated two million sun-loving European tourists each year. Here, in the 30-mile-wide lee of the island, you'll find the calm seas, full-service marinas and charter operations that make fishing here so enjoyable.
Everything's Big in Grand Canary
Sunny skies and a 1-foot swell greeted me on my first day's fishing, a half-day excursion on the 40-foot Post, Billfish Fever, owned and operated by Bill Dennehy out of the Marina Bar in Port Mogan. On the short 6-mile journey to the edge of the shelf, we spooked a few flyers that darn near spooked me. These buggers were huge, at least a pound and a half or 2 pounds apiece -- so large, in fact, that they could hardly get out of the water!
After two hours of trolling through these fat jumbo jets of the flying-fish world, we got a taste of what might be snacking on these plump morsels when an estimated 350-pound blue jumped all over the Top Gun Nightmare we were pulling on our left flat. Since blues here average over 400 pounds, we were fishing with a combination of bent-butt 80s and 130s, and this little blue didn't stand much of a chance on the 130 it chose to tangle with.
Our mate, Trevor Hunt, said the big gear is necessary: "Fiftys are just too small for the big marlin and tuna that we catch here. It's very rare that we catch a blue under 200 kilos (220 pounds)." A quick look into the record book backs up Hunt's assertion and reveals that several IGFA all-tackle and line-class records for blue marlin, spearfish, bluefin and bigeye tuna were caught off the southwest coast of the island.
Grand Canary's fishing bears a strong resemblance to that of its neighbor, Madeira, which lies approximately 500 miles to the north. Although you can troll for a long time between bites in each locale, when the bite does come it's usually from a substantial fish. "We've had a slow year (1998) so far for blue marlin," admitted Dennehy, "but we've always had very cyclical fishing, and we're hoping things will turn around next year." Charter prices are fairly inexpensive here, however, so it's not cost-prohibitive to fish as many days as necessary to get your shots.
It may have been a slow year, but four other boats hooked up to blues in the six hours we were trolling that first day, although we were the only boat to successfully catch and release its fish. Which brings up another point -- most boats here still take blue marlin for the table rather than release them. However, all of the captains I talked to will release fish at the angler's request and, after spending some time with these extremely friendly and courteous people, I don't think you'd ever be pressured into killing a billfish.
Several boats like the 47-foot Dorado and the 35-foot Cavalier, owned by Capt. Antonio Deniz, refuse to kill any billfish unless it's large enough for world-record consideration. At the opposite end of the spectrum, the fishing catamaran Felusi decorates its bow rails with blue marlin tails to attract walk-up tourist business. This practice is not only distasteful to most billfishermen, but it creates quite a stench to endure during the day's charter.
Although I saw a few more marlin in the 300-pound class come up into the spread, I wasn't lucky enough to catch another blue marlin in my last three days of fishing. But I can't tell you when I've had a better time being skunked -- the weather was perfect, and I enjoyed good company. If you're looking for an exotic destination that can offer you a shot at big fish and still provide you and your family with a plethora of onshore activities to enjoy when the bite slows, then check out Grand Canary -- two million tourists a year couldn't be wrong.
