Roni Essex
Freediver, Spearo, Creator
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Roni Essex
Freediver, Spearo, Creator
There’s a fine line between thrill and disaster in spearfishing. One second, you’re cruising through blue water, lining up the perfect shot, and the next, you’re in a full-blown underwater bar fight with a fish that did not get the memo that it was dinner. Some fish go quietly. Others? Not so much.
And then there are the ones that are straight-up dangerous, the kind that can put a hole in your wetsuit, snap your spear, or make you rethink every life decision that led you to this exact moment. If you’ve been spearfishing long enough, you already know the usual suspects. If not, let me introduce you to some of the meanest, most problematic fish you’ll ever encounter—and, more importantly, how to handle them when things go sideways.
Dogtooth tuna are not fish. They are oceanic wrecking balls. You see one cruising just below the thermocline, and your first thought is, Damn, that’s a big one. Your second thought should be, Am I actually ready for this? Because if you’re not, this fish will show you exactly how unprepared you are.
The moment you land a shot, all hell breaks loose. A dogtooth won’t just run; it’ll explode into a sprint so violent that your reel screams, your floatline whips, and your spear—if it’s not secured perfectly—might bend like a paperclip. And if you shot it anywhere other than a stone-cold kill zone, congratulations, you now have a giant, torpedo-shaped problem thrashing 100 feet below you.
How to Handle It: Use the heaviest gear you can handle. A slip tip is non-negotiable. Always have a solid float system, because a big dogtooth can—and will—drown you if you try to muscle it up by hand. Let it run, let it tire itself out, and for the love of everything, don’t try to gaff it while it’s still green. That’s how people lose fingers.
If a dogtooth tuna is a wrecking ball, a giant trevally (GT) is the neighborhood bully who enjoys starting fights just for fun. GTs are hyper-aggressive, insanely powerful, and incredibly intelligent. They know exactly how to run you into structure, wrap your line around a reef, or make you regret not holding onto your gun just a little tighter. You don’t shoot a GT. You commit to war.
They fight dirty. You land a shot, and before you can even celebrate, it’s already charging headfirst into the nearest cave, wreck, or hole, dragging your entire setup with it. Miss your chance to control the fight, and you’re either losing your gear or going in after it—neither of which are great options.
How to Handle It: Shoot high, control the head, and do not let it turn into the reef. If it starts making a run, apply steady pressure—too much and you’ll rip the spear out, too little and you’re in for a long, frustrating battle. And if you think you’ve won, think again. GTs have a bad habit of playing dead, only to explode back to life at the worst possible moment.
The problem with wahoo isn’t their strength. It’s their speed. These fish don’t run—they teleport. You shoot, and for a split second, nothing happens. Then, out of nowhere, your line goes screaming off into the abyss, and your spear tip is holding on for dear life.
Oh, and let’s not forget the teeth. Wahoo have some of the sharpest, nastiest dental work in the ocean. Get careless, and your float line turns into confetti. Ever try retrieving a fish that has turned into a razor-bladed torpedo? It’s not fun.
How to Handle It: Go for a perfect shot. A bad shot on a wahoo is a guaranteed heartbreak. Always use a bungee float line to absorb the initial burst, and never, ever grab a wahoo by the gills unless you enjoy getting stitches. A quick brain spike and a firm grip on the tail will save you a world of pain.
Barracudas don’t play fair. They aren’t particularly strong, but what they lack in brute force, they make up for in sheer bad attitude. They’re fast, twitchy, and have a habit of turning back on you with a mouthful of knives. Shoot a barracuda, and before you even reach for your knife, it’s probably already trying to bite you.
Worse, sharks love them. The moment you land one, you’ve got a high-speed dinner bell ringing through the water. If you don’t move fast, you’re about to have a whole new set of problems.
How to Handle It: String it up immediately and keep your hands away from the mouth. A paralyzer tip is your friend here—once you brain it, get it out of the water fast. And if you see sharks moving in? Cut your losses and let it go. It’s not worth the fight.
Marlin are the holy grail of bluewater spearfishing. They are also, without a doubt, the most dangerous fish you could ever choose to mess with. A marlin isn’t just big. It’s a muscle-packed, high-speed battering ram with a built-in sword attached to its face. Landing a shot is only half the battle. The real nightmare starts when it realizes it’s hooked and starts swinging that bill like a sledgehammer. One wrong move, and you’re not just losing gear—you’re losing blood.
How to Handle It: Only take the shot if you’re 100% prepared. That means heavy-duty gear, multiple floats, and a crew that knows what they’re doing. Once it’s on, keep your distance. A wounded marlin will charge, thrash, and turn a routine retrieval into a full-on rodeo. Stay calm, keep the pressure steady, and when it’s finally subdued, handle it with absolute caution.
Spearfishing is already an extreme sport. These fish take it to another level. They’re unpredictable, powerful, and in some cases, downright mean. But with the right approach, the right gear, and a healthy respect for what you’re up against, you can not only land them—you can walk away with all your fingers intact. And if you don’t? Well, at least you’ll have one hell of a story.