I recently posted an image on my Facebook page that generated a surprising amount of attention. I knew the limit of six 3- to 5-pound pompano lying on the deck of my kayak would draw some reaction — people universally love pompano.
Including a banana in the picture pushed the reaction in an entirely different direction and to a whole ‘nuther level. Comments ranged from courageously spitting in the face of the curse to lurid tales of boating mishaps associated with the hard lessons that come with defying the gods of fishing and fruit. Banana mythers were stunned that I would tempt fate with such blatant disregard. Two charterboat captains who viewed the offending banana image decreed that I would be thoroughly strip-searched should I ever have the audacity to book passage on their craft.
For the uninitiated, bananas have been synonymous with bad luck aboard fishing boats for several centuries. The wise angler doesn’t come aboard an unfamiliar boat — particularly a charter boat – bearing bananas, or even anything banana-related. At a minimum, the offending items will end up overboard. Should the fish not bite, the blame will fall squarely and painfully on the inconsiderate jerk who put his fruit snack above his fellow anglers catching fish.
The bad-luck myth’s origins are generally attributed to banana boats hauling produce from Caribbean plantations as far back as the 17th century. Scientists of the day failed to look into the legitimacy of the matter; apparently Newton was too preoccupied with that apple thing to take on banana research as well. Sometimes it’s just easier to stamp fruit as the work of the Devil than to find actual answers.
My exhaustive 10-minute historical research revealed four principal causal factors behind contemporary belief in the evil of boating with bananas:
1) Bananas release ethylene fumes as they ripen, causing other food in the ship’s galley to rot prematurely. As a result, crews sometimes ran out of food on the long voyage. Transferring this portion of the curse to modern fishing is shaky at best — most anglers book a 4-hour, or at most, an 8-hour charter, during which even a sandwich from Subway should hold up if you skip the lettuce. Clipper ships should have packed more Hostess Twinkies and SnoBalls and less of that healthy crap. Both are certified impervious to banana fumes and feature longer expiration dates than most humans.
2) Shipped bananas weren’t packed in those handy little foursomes that shoppers find at Piggly Wiggly. They were loaded as they hang from the tree, in giant clusters of a hundred or more. Among all those crevices between bananas lurked a menagerie of pesky critters such as spiders, ants and even snakes. Once onboard, they weren’t always content to make the trip in the dark confines of the ship’s hold. Who wants to waste the high-seas experience confined to their cabins? They instead emulated guests aboard a modern cruise ship. Places to go, things to see. They invaded the ship from stem to stern, making life miserable for the crew.
3) Fish caught during the voyage typically made up a significant portion of the crew’s food supply. Because bananas stay green for only so long, they were transported aboard the fastest ships of the day, so they hopefully reached their destinations before transforming into a brown, gelatinous blob devoid of monetary value. Banana boat crews complained their ships were so fast that they couldn’t catch fish by trolling. Apparently the chef was too cheap to invest in a few high-speed Yo-Zuri or LiveTarget wahoo lures that track straight at 20 knots.
4) Of course, when things went ultimately wrong and banana ships sank — sailing the ocean was an incredibly hazardous endeavor in those days — the misunderstood fruit got blamed. Why? Because bananas are buoyant. When other ships arrived on the scene, thousands of soggy, floating bananas marked the spot of the ship’s demise. Naturally, crews correlated the sinking with the presence of bananas. Perfectly logical to assume the bananas assassinated the crew and sank the ship in a ruthless bid to gain their freedom.
Now, it shouldn’t take Mr. Spock to conclude that any bad luck attached to the banana actually fell on the pompano in my picture. They were the ones headed for the grill, after all. But people who believe in zombies are, by definition, not real big on logic. To me, the debate isn’t whether to take bananas fishing with me. There’s a far greater philosophical question that even Socrates and Aristotle lacked the courage to address.
Do fish prefer Dole or Chiquita brand bananas?
Fortunately, I am the captain aboard my kayak. And I like bananas. On the following outing, I doubled down with two bananas, and released four tournament-worthy redfish within 20 minutes. However, my camera lens jammed and distorted the images, causing my head to appear shrunken. A warning, perhaps, that I am tinkering with treacherous forces beyond my control? An omen of grisly events in my future?
If I come up missing, just look for the floating bananas.
