Fishing on Green Turtle in the 1930’s was not considered just a sport…it was considered survival. Living off the land and sea was how my dad and his ancestors subsisted on that rustic island for generations. No state of the art rod and reels, lures, or electronic fish finders. A simple hand line with a sinker and hook, perhaps crafted by his Aunt May (littlehousebytheferry.com), was the extent of his fishing gear.
There are many stories to tell of my boyhood days on the island of Green Turtle Cay. One is them is catching a large bonefish. At a young age, about ten or twelve, I prepared my fishing tackle and headed for the seashore. The area I chose was about a mile away from my home. With the flood tide, the bonefish would come in, feeding close to the shore.
After tossing the line out into the water, I waited for about thirty minutes, eagerly awaiting for a strike. I felt something attacking the bait. With great excitement, I suddenly struck back. The fight was on. The fish was tugging away. After several minutes, I was able to pull it close to the shore and then upon the rocks. It weighed about ten pounds…a very large fish for a young boy. It was a dream come true!
Journals of John W. Lowe
Dad never lost his love for fishing. On Friday afternoons, he would close down the store that he managed and head out fishing with his buddies. By the time I was born, Dad always had a small boat, preferably a Boston Whaler, if Mom had a say.
As a family, we logged countless hours of summertime fun…fishing, snorkeling, shelling and island hopping. After fishing for hours at several specially marked fishing shoals, Dad would anchor off a deserted island or cay to relax and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation. Mom would find the right spot on the island under a shaded tree for lunch while Dad would take the haul of the day to clean on the rocks.