FEBRUARY 5, 2024
We left the dock around 12:30 PM to head out to an area where we had seen a lot of fish the week before. It was chilly. I don’t remember exactly how cold, but based on the pictures, I left the dock in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Call it laziness, but I love those winter afternoons when we leave the dock late. The boat ramp is usually calm, and you can enjoy a slow morning getting ready.
The wind was about 5-10 knots out of the NNW, which is semi-offshore for us. With me were Bobby and Paolo. Big yellowjacks and permit had been on the reef in huge schools. The week prior, I shot a number of yellowjacks, including a few up to 18lbs, and an average-sized permit. The reef was ON—schools of 200+ fish were seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
We got to the area we wanted to focus on for the afternoon around 1:30. As we pulled up, I scanned the water. There was a slight chop on the surface. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something break the surface. I didn’t get a great look at it, but it slowly registered as the tail of a permit. I’d seen permit ‘tail’ here before in large schools, 200-300 fish stacked top to bottom, with the top layers' tails breaking the surface. What was strange was this—just one single tail, not multiple. Regardless, it was a good sign.
A NEW APPROACH
Recently, I started diving this spot a little differently. I used to anchor, and we would all swim around. The problem with that is the bottom here is spread out, and you can end up farther from the boat than you’d like. And this is a sharky spot, so ideally, you stay close to the boat. Let’s just say, due to some prior experiences, I was looking to update my strategy.
The week before, I tried a new method with Gianna and Blake on separate occasions, and it worked well. With Gianna, I set the boat to drift over the spots. I’d then get in and drift with the boat while she lounged on top. I rigged my gun with a breakaway buoy. If I shot a fish and a shark showed up, I could ditch the line and jump on the boat, retrieving the fish from there. This was instead of having the line attached to a reel on the gun. Shooting a large fish can take a lot of line, and if a shark shows up, it risks not only the fish but the gun—and safety.
Cheating? Maybe a purist spearo would think so, but it works for me. It’s a safer way to dive a sharky spot, especially with someone who may want to just relax on the boat. I’m not out there solely for sport—I’m there to bring back fish we can eat multiple times a week.
ARRIVAL
Bobby, Paolo, and I got in the water around 2:30. We drifted alongside the boat, and it wasn’t long before a big school of yellowjack showed up. They were just out of view of the others because of a slight fuzz in the water—optimal for spearing. I duck-dived, turned, and planted a shot in one. Decent size, about 8-9 lbs, and I brought it to the surface quickly. The others caught on and we regrouped at the boat. This was a great sign: the fish were still here. The school was large—100-150 yellowjacks and jack crevalle mixed together. I quickly dispatched the fish, reloaded, and got back into the hunt.
We did a few drifts, adding another yellowjack to the cooler each time. Bobby got back into the boat after a couple of drifts. The water was about as cold as it gets down here, and he didn’t have a wetsuit. Having someone on the boat felt reassuring—it’s pivotal for maneuvering in case of trouble.
We saw massive schools of permit, sometimes together in a mega-school of 200+ fish, other times fragmented into smaller groups of 15-50. The larger ones tended to stay toward the bottom or trail the school.
I waited for a big one. The large permit are tough to spear. Permit themselves are fast and usually very alert. Schools are hard to approach, as they’re dart-y and sensitive. One slight movement can send the entire school into panic.
Permit are curious, though. If you dive down and stay still—either suspended mid-water or lying on the bottom—the school will come to investigate. If you move slow and fluid, and they may give you a shot.
THE HUNT
This particular fish came from a fragmented school of about 75 fish. I duck-dived and started toward the reef. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the school turn toward me. I stopped and pointed my gun. Immediately, they turned away, sensing the motion. As I relaxed and steadied my aim, they turned back.
Among them, I saw a large permit, a few layers deep. I focused on it, resisting the temptation to switch targets. Schools of fish swarming around make it hard to concentrate on one, as you’re constantly second-guessing your target.
The school was moving fast, and I eventually had to forfeit my pursuit. The fish was out of range, and I didn’t want to rush the shot. I surfaced to regroup while keeping my eyes on the school. I tried to regain my breath while following them, albeit not with a proper breath-up. The school slowed at another reef, giving me another chance.
I dove again, intercepting the school. My movement spooked them slightly, splitting them into fragments. My eyes stayed locked on the big permit. I lined up the shot, accounting for the distance and the swing of the shaft. The shot landed mid-body, just above the spine—a great holding shot.
The fish ran headfirst into the sand, creating a cloud. I let the line slip through my fingers and surfaced, fearing the shaft had fallen out. But I quickly came tight to the fish and began pulling it in. It fought hard, pulling me under at times, but I managed to bring it to the surface.
Pao was just on the other side of the reef, and I wasn’t far from the boat. I surfaced, screaming with the fish in my hands. I was shocked by its size—it had been a while since I’d seen a permit this big. The fish measured a 28” fork length (length from the lip to the fork of the tail).
I was glad I had waited for the right shot on a quality fish. We did a few more drifts while we still had light, adding a couple more yellowjacks to the cooler before heading home. The ride back was smooth as the wind had eased, and we cruised back without issue. Once ashore, we pulled the boat out of the water and headed home to clean up.
TO PRINT OR NOT TO PRINT?
I wasn’t planning on printing this fish. Of course, I’d love to print every fish, but printing takes a lot of work. When I plan to print, I typically schedule fishing on Saturday and reserve Sunday to set up and work on the process properly. But this was Sunday, and I had work all week.
We got back home around 7PM, and there was still plenty to do—washing the boat, cleaning the gear, and cutting the fish. The guys helped unload the boat, with Pao rinsing down the boat and trailer while I grabbed the cooler and started cutting the yellowjacks. There were five or six yellowjacks, all different sizes. I wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but I must have mentioned to Bobby how cool it would be to print the permit. Even after he left, he texted me:
“Dude. You gotta print that fish…”
The peer pressure got to me. As I finished with the yellowjacks, I decided to leave the permit on ice overnight and print it after work the next day.
I needed paper, so as soon as I left work on Monday, I went to the art store to restock supplies. It was a late night, but I’m glad I documented the fish this way. The actual process of laying the paper on the fish only takes 15-20 minutes, but the preparation—organizing the space, cutting the paper, readying the paint—takes time. Over the years, I’ve refined the small details to make this process as smooth as possible, but it still takes time.
I cut five pieces of paper: three smaller ones for horizontal compositions and two larger ones for diagonal layouts, depicting the fish as if it were swimming down. I took my time and didn’t rush, which resulted in some beautiful prints.
After printing, I washed the ink off the fish and put it back on ice. Once the workspace was clean, I filleted the fish, saving the collar, ribs, and meat. Half went into the freezer, and we enjoyed the other half for dinner throughout the week in various dishes. Permit is a rich fish with meat almost crab-like in texture. It cooks more like chicken than a typical fish. My favorite preparation was breaded permit bites.
Printing the fish is just the beginning. Once I have the print, I like to enhance it and turn it into a work of art. Every gyotaku artist has their own style. Traditional techniques focus on the initial print, sometimes adding just the eye. I prefer to play with texture and bring the fish to life by painting in markings and adding environmental elements.
This particular print was light, so I decided to use stippling exclusively—letting thousands of tiny dots create shading and texture. It’s the technique I use in my illustrations, but on a much smaller scale. This fish felt like the perfect opportunity to commit fully to that method tedious as it may be.
Early in the process, I also knew I wanted to illustrate seagrass at the bottom of the piece. Gianna and I worked on a piece the year prior that featured coral, and I loved the idea of incorporating more of the fish’s environment into the artwork.
The entire process took almost a year, on and off, with a big push toward the end of 2024. On January 4, 2025, I finally signed the piece and called it done. Completing this gyotaku left me inspired to enter the new year with fresh ideas and motivation to create more. This piece represents a truly memorable moment in time and leaves me eager to continue exploring my craft.
Original & Prints Available: https://alexwex.com/products/permit-gyotaku?variant=46051304276134
