The golden fish on the shore

(Baonghean) - Mr. Hoang Minh Trong looked at me and smiled with concern: "Can you go? It looks like you can hardly stand the waves." Seeing me keep pleading, Mr. Trong looked questioningly at his younger brother, Hoang Van Thuy, then both of them said almost in unison: "Yes, you can go."

It can be said that my sea trip with two brothers Hoang Minh Trong and Hoang Van Thuy was by chance.

That was after days of continuous rain due to several consecutive storms, I drove around along the Vinh - Cua Hoi - Cua Lo ecological route to see firsthand how the lives of people in the estuary were after the "mischief" of nature. Looking down from the road, the whole Cua Hoi area had red river water, many big and small boats were anchored on the shore, some boats were lying on the sand strip, their bows tilted under the canopy of casuarina trees. The Cua Hoi fishing port is usually bustling, but today at only 9am it was deserted.

The boat sails back to the dock. Photo: Quoc Son

I stopped the car when I suddenly saw the shadow of a small boat swaying by the water's edge. On the boat, there were two men who seemed to be opening lunch boxes. When I got closer, I saw another woman busily carrying a heavy plastic paint bucket. Looking into the bucket, I saw several snakehead fish, each weighing about 0.7 - 1 kg. My appearance made the two men on the boat a bit curious.

Before carrying the fish box away, the woman turned her head and said: “You two eat your fill before leaving. Drop the anchor and sit in the shade of the trees.” One of the two people on the boat spoke up: “Don’t worry, Mu. Leave one for us to come back this afternoon and enjoy some wine.” At this moment, as if suddenly remembering my presence, the man looked over and said cheerfully: “Eat dinner with us.” The other person also repeated: “Eat dinner…”. I stood by the water’s edge under the blazing sun and chatted with them. When I became more open, their meal ended, and I was invited onto the boat.

The green painted wooden boat was just enough for two people and with me added it became cramped. The boat also had no roof, instead it was a thin cloth stretched with bamboo poles to avoid the scorching sun at the moment. The older looking man reached for a pot of tea, poured it into a bowl and gave it to me, saying: “Drink some cold water, the sun is no big deal for a raft”...

Mr. Trong and Thuy gather the tarp and prepare to go out to sea. Photo: Quoc Son

The conversation gradually became more lively, telling me that they were brothers, living in Xuan Loc village, Nghi Xuan commune (Nghi Loc). The older brother, Hoang Minh Trong, looked strong and youthful for his 52 years of age. The younger brother, Hoang Van Thuy, was 48 years old, tall and agile. Both brothers had the strong, kind faces of coastal residents. They also went to sea, but only worked as fishermen, and only caught certain types of seafood such as: hanh fish, grouper, bream, croaker, etc.

On the 8-horsepower wooden boat, the fishing equipment is quite simple. At the stern of the boat are green rocks as big as an adult's fist, a few dozen pieces of homemade foam buoys, 4 poles about 3m long placed along the 2 sides, on the bow of the boat are 2 blue-black flags with white and yellow stripes the size of 4 hands. The most special thing is probably the basket containing the fishing rods, nearly 2 li long (1 li is equivalent to 1.8 km), on the rim of the basket are stuck many small fishing hooks tied with fishing rods and fixed to the rope.

When I was seated in the middle of the boat, Mr. Thuy began to remove the cover, pull the anchor to the bow, and use the pole to push the boat away from the shore. Mr. Trong sat behind and started the engine. After a while, the propeller made a loud noise and then tore through the muddy water, pushing the thin boat forward. We would not go far! Mr. Trong "made" a decision. We only ran more than 1 mile from the starting point and to the position of the inlet to prepare to drop the line. This place was close to the sandbank and could see Ngu Island from a close distance. The tide was now going down quickly, the sandbank was rising higher in the middle of the river channel flowing into the sea.

I sat huddled watching Trong and Thuy cast their lines. The older brother steered the boat, choosing the slow waves, while the younger brother began to hook the bait onto the hook and cast the line. The bait was pieces of pig probes, cut into small pieces the size of the tip of a little finger. This was something that made me a little surprised: Fish eat probes? Trong explained that the bait depends on the tide.

According to his experience at sea for forty years, in the turbid water season, when the flood comes, the bait is often made from pig trotters or yellow snails. "The yellow snails are broken into shells, the body is taken out, cut into small pieces and then hooked onto the hook, it's that simple" - Mr. Trong said. On the gold line, a nearly 2-kilometer long line is tied with a hook every 2 meters. Green stones the size of an ankle are also tied to the line instead of lead. Mr. Thuy said that if they used "genuine" lead, it would be expensive because it would break easily, so they used stones. Everything was quite simple, but it took Mr. Trong and Mr. Thuy an hour and a half to finish casting the gold line.

The "gold" fisherman drops his line. Photo: Quoc Son

Now that he has more free time, Mr. Thuy said that the goldfish of the seafarers is similar to the kingfisher that people catch on rivers and lakes. This season, they only catch catfish, occasionally grouper or croaker. The big ones weigh a few kilos, the small ones a few or seven ounces. "During the rainy season, the water is clear, the bait is not sensitive, and the gold snails are not "sensitive". At that time, I mainly use live shrimp bait" - Mr. Thuy lit a cigarette and looked at me to discuss. It is known that the two cousins, when they were young, went to sea on their own boats, but 20 years ago, they came back on the same boat. The gains and losses are all in the same family.

Mr. Thuy also said that in Xuan Loc village where he lives, there are still 6 families fishing in the sea with small motorboats. “On average, each person earns 6-7 million VND per month. It’s not that they can’t make a living, but it’s too hard. Just follow the tide. Sometimes they go at midnight, late afternoon, early morning… in general, it’s not fixed” - Mr. Trong had just stopped talking when Mr. Thuy interrupted: “There are lucky days when we catch dozens of bass, so we have a few million VND. The good fish are bought by restaurants and hotels. The smaller ones are brought to the market by women on the shore to sell”. But the fish source is increasingly depleted, so it is increasingly difficult for Mr. Trong and his younger brother to pursue the near-shore fishing profession. Therefore, there are days when they have to go to Hon Mat, go for a few days before returning to shore. Mr. Trong has 4 children, Mr. Thuy also has 4 children, but none of them follow their father or uncle to sea.

It was time to collect the fishing line. The line was pulled up. More than 2 hours for the monotonous task of pulling up the net, removing the "lead stones", and hooking the hook back to the rim of the basket. The net was nearly 2 kilometers long with 1,000 hooks, but the groupers did not collect much... I thought for a moment and asked: "Maybe it was because I got on the boat that the fishing was unlucky." Mr. Trong laughed: "That's not it. There is food for every meal, and there is a market for every afternoon, uncle. This morning we also earned more than 7 lots, 1.5 million, uncle!"

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It was late afternoon, we returned to shore. Tonight when the tide began to rise, they would go out to sea again.

Quoc Son