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Mastering the Art of Maldives Fishing: Techniques and Cultural Significance

At 3:04 a.m. on the northern island of Kanditheemu, fourteen fishers board the 24-meter dhoni Mas Vaali and head into the darkness. Captain Ibrahim Hamid, 61, has kept this schedule for decades — he started fishing at 15 and has spent 30 years in the skipjack trade. The pole-and-line method his crew uses has been practiced in the Maldives for nearly a millennium, and it produces a bycatch rate as low as 0.65% — a figure that makes Maldivian tuna fisheries among the most selective in the world.

Maldivian pole-and-line tuna fishing records a bycatch rate of just 0.65% — 95% of that bycatch, mostly mahi mahi and rainbow runner, is sold to resorts, and the rest is released alive.

That statistic, drawn from a 2017 study in PLOS ONE, reframes the whole conversation about what “mastering” fishing means. The techniques used across the Maldives are not simply old — they are engineered for a specific ecology, shaped by centuries of observation, and increasingly seen as a viable alternative to industrial methods that devastate ocean ecosystems. This article traces the major fishing traditions of the Maldives — pole-and-line, trolling, deep-drop, chunking, and night fishing — and examines what each reveals about the relationship between island communities and the sea.

Emily’s Take

Fishing in the Maldives is not one practice but many, each tailored to a specific species, depth, and season. The most famous technique — pole-and-line skipjack fishing — is also the most sustainable, but it coexists with older, quieter methods like Vadhu Dhun’vun (reef-edge trolling) and the deep-drop stone-anchor technique used in Fuvahmulah. None of these can be reduced to “traditional” in a single sense; they are living systems that have adapted to changing oceans.

Best forSustainability enthusiastsCultural historiansHands-on travelers

The table below gives a quick comparison of the main fishing methods still practiced in the Maldives today, based on available research.

Technique Primary target Region/Atoll Estimated age Bycatch level Current status
Pole-and-line (masdhey) Skipjack tuna All atolls, especially northern and central ~1,000 years 0.65% Dominant; MSC-certified
Reef-edge trolling (Vadhu Dhun’vun) Wahoo, Sailfish, Barracuda, Giant Trevally Southern atolls (oarsmen dhonis); north/central (smaller bokkura) Centuries (sultanate era) Very low Declining; maintained by older fishers
Deep-drop stone-anchor (Kattelhi) Escolar (Kattelhi) Fuvahmulah Atoll Centuries Negligible (single hook) Rite of passage; localized
Chunking (Koshun) Yellowfin tuna Open ocean, calm seas Generational Low Specialized; practiced by experienced crews
Night fishing (handline) Snapper, Grouper, reef fish All atolls, especially resort areas Generational Moderate (some hook-and-line bycatch) Popular with tourists; also local

Each technique represents a different kind of knowledge — about currents, bait behavior, fish migration, and the materials that work best in saline tropical waters. The following sections go deeper into the methods themselves, the cultural frameworks that sustain them, and the challenges they face.

The pole-and-line choreography

The pole-and-line method — called masdhey in Dhivehi — is the backbone of Maldivian fishing. It works like this: the crew first locates a school of tuna, often by watching seabirds or using inherited knowledge of seasonal and tidal patterns. Once the school is spotted, a bait-thrower tosses live sprats (rehi) into the water to create a feeding frenzy. Fishermen stand shoulder-to-shoulder on the aft deck, each holding a thin bamboo or composite-fibre rod two to three meters long with a single barbless hook. In a fast, continuous motion, they hook a fish, flick it over their shoulder onto the deck, and recast. A skilled crew can land hundreds of tuna in minutes.

1
Locate the school

Fishers scan for seabirds or use generational knowledge of currents and tide. In deeper water, sonar may supplement visual cues.

2
Bait the water

Live sprats (rehi) or silver cardinals (boadhi) are scooped from onboard tanks and tossed overboard. A sprinkler system sprays the surface to mimic baitfish movement.

3
Cast and flick

Fishermen cast barbless hooks into the frenzy. The hook catches the fish; a quick wrist-flick swings the tuna onto the deck. The barbless hook releases instantly, allowing the next cast.

4
Ice and store

Fish are sorted, iced in the hold, and brought back to shore within the day. The dhoni typically returns after 4–8 hours at sea.

Captain Hamid’s crew on Kanditheemu can land 4.5 tonnes of skipjack in a single morning session. The economics are straightforward: after fuel costs, the profit is divided — one share for the dhoni owners, two shares among the crew. Hamid’s average monthly earnings range between 15,000 and 20,000 rufiyaa (roughly £400–£540). The entire operation depends on a reliable supply of live bait, which itself requires a separate early-morning fishing trip. As Hamid told The Guardian in 2025, “Getting the bait is the most important part of the fishing itself.”

But pole-and-line is only one strand of a much older web of techniques.

The silent hunt and the deep drop

Before the mechanization of the 1970s, Maldivian fishers relied on wind and current for Vadhu Dhun’vun (literally “trolling the reef edge”). During the sultanate era, this was considered the supreme test of patience and craft. Lures (vadhu) were carved from mother-of-pearl or polished hawksbill turtle shell to mimic the shimmer of baitfish. They were towed behind wooden sailing dhonis on hand-braided coconut-fiber ropes — a silent, wind-driven pursuit. Targets included wahoo, sailfish, barracuda, and giant trevally. Different lures were used for different species: banana spathes for wahoo, wooden fish-shaped lures for sailfish, and feather-and-striped rubber lures weighted for specific depths. The technique varied by atoll: in the south, powerful dhonis with six oarsmen dominated the channels; in the north and central atolls, smaller bokkura with a single sail skimmed inner lagoons and outer drop-offs. Today, Vadhu Dhun’vun is practiced mainly by older fishers, and the knowledge is not being passed down at the same rate.

Fuvahmulah — Kattelhi fishing grounds
Deep-drop technique · Southern Maldives
The island of Fuvahmulah is the only place in the Maldives where the deep-drop stone-anchor method (Kattelhi) is practiced. Lines are bound to 80 coral stones averaging 3.5 kg each — a total ballast of nearly 300 kg — to reach the abyssal depths where the escolar (Kattelhi) dwells. A single calculated jerk disintegrates the stone anchor, leaving the bait to flutter like a dying squid. This technique predates modern sonar by centuries and is considered a rite of passage for local fishers. Access to the site is from the island’s harbor; no tours currently operate there.

Another specialized method is Koshun (chunking), practiced when the sea is mirror-calm. Fishermen slice bait into thin slivers and scatter them into the depths, creating a rhythmic scent trail that draws yellowfin tuna up from the water column. Multiple lines are deployed into the scent trail. This technique exploits the tuna’s biology: they must swim perpetually to push oxygen over their gills, so a steady scent beacon keeps them circling the boat. It represents a sophisticated battle of wits against one of the ocean’s fastest predators.

Practical tip

If you join a night fishing trip from a resort or guesthouse — a common activity that typically targets snapper and grouper — bring a light jacket and reef-safe sunscreen. The boats are usually dhonis, and the guides will provide handlines with barbed hooks. Ask whether the catch is used for the resort kitchen; many operations donate it to staff meals or local households.

The dhoni, the economy, and the women who process the catch

The dhoni itself is a national symbol. Its distinctive curved prow has been built in the Maldives for centuries, traditionally from coconut palm wood, though modern versions use fibreglass and marine plywood. Different sizes serve different purposes: smaller dhonis for reef fishing and inter-island transport; larger ones (mas dhoni) for deep-sea tuna fishing; and the biggest (bokkuraa and cargo dhonis) for transporting goods between atolls. The master builder (maavadi) was once a respected figure in island society, but mechanization and fibreglass have largely replaced traditional construction. The dhoni’s form endures across fishing harbors and resort transfer fleets.

The economic scale of Maldivian fishing is substantial. Annual tuna catch rose from about 30,000 tonnes in the 1980s to over 90,000 tonnes by 1997, peaking at 138,751 tonnes in 2003. In the 2010s, fisheries contributed more than 15% of GDP and engaged nearly 30% of the workforce. The Maldives Industrial Fisheries Company (MIFCO), established in 1979, oversees processing and exports. A canning plant in Felivaru, built in 1977 with Japanese expertise, produces canned tuna branded as Felivaru Masdhalhu for international markets. More than 50,000 tonnes of skipjack are exported annually to Europe and North America.

What often goes unseen is the shore-based labor that makes this industry possible. Historically, the processing of tuna into Maldive fish (hikimas) — boiled, smoked over coconut husks, and sun-dried into dark, wood-like pieces — was primarily women’s work. While men fished at sea, women managed the smoking racks and drying platforms. Maldive fish remains a staple ingredient in Maldivian cuisine, appearing in garudhiya (fish broth), mas huni (the signature breakfast dish), curries, and snacks. It was also the country’s most important export for centuries, traded across the Indian Ocean. Today, the processing work is less visible, but the cultural significance endures.

E
What strikes me is how the division of labor — men at sea, women on shore — created a dual knowledge system. The men learned currents and bait behavior; the women learned smoking times, salt ratios, and drying cycles. Both are forms of mastery, but only the sea-going half gets celebrated in tourist literature. The women’s knowledge is equally precise and equally threatened by modernization.
— Emily Carter

Context and comparison: Maldives pole-and-line versus industrial fishing

To understand why the Maldives’ methods matter globally, it helps to compare them directly with the dominant industrial technique: purse-seine netting.

Attribute Maldives pole-and-line Industrial purse-seine
Bycatch rate 0.65% (PLOS ONE, 2017) Up to 28% (WWF estimate)
Target species Skipjack tuna primarily Skipjack, yellowfin, bigeye
Bycatch composition 95% mahi mahi, rainbow runner (sold or released) Endangered sharks, sea turtles, juvenile tuna
Gear Single barbless hook on short pole Large net (up to 2 km) encircling entire school
Catch per effort 4–5 tonnes per day (typical dhoni) 100+ tonnes per set
Ecosystem impact Minimal; no habitat damage Can cause coral destruction, ghost net entanglement
Sustainability certification Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) certified Mixed; some MSC, many not
Dependence on live bait High — requires separate bait fishery None (uses fish aggregating devices, FADs)

The comparison is stark, but it comes with caveats. The Maldives’ pole-and-line fishery depends on a healthy supply of live bait, which is itself vulnerable to climate change and overfishing. Warming oceans have already shifted tuna migration patterns, and coral bleaching affects the reef ecosystems that support bait species. The same Guardian article notes that fishers on Kanditheemu are already forced to venture further out for skipjacks. As one older fisher put it, “Catch was good today, but skipjack were small. If bigger, would have been better. But depends how you look at it.”

Watch out for

A common misconception is that all Maldivian fishing is “traditional” in a static sense. In reality, the fleet was fully mechanized by the 1980s, and the dhoni design has been adapted with fibreglass and engines. What persists is the method — the one-by-one hook-and-line approach — not the technology surrounding it.

Key Takeaways

  • Pole-and-line fishing in the Maldives achieves a bycatch rate of 0.65%, far below the 28% average for longline fisheries.
  • The techniques are not monolithic: Vadhu Dhun’vun, Kattelhi, and Koshun each represent distinct ecological knowledge.
  • Women’s labor in fish processing has been historically undervalued but is essential to the cultural and economic system.
  • Climate change and industrial overfishing outside Maldivian waters threaten the sustainability of even the most selective methods.

Questions readers ask about Maldivian fishing

Is night fishing just a tourist activity?

No — night fishing (rehendhi masverun) is a traditional practice used by locals to catch snapper, grouper, and other reef fish. Tourist versions are simplified but follow the same handline method. On local islands, you may see families fishing from the shore at dusk.

Can I try pole-and-line fishing as a visitor?

Not directly — the technique requires a skilled crew and live bait. However, some guesthouses on local islands arrange trips with local fishermen where you can observe or help with simpler handline fishing. Resorts offer sunset fishing trips on dhonis, but these use handlines, not poles.

Why is Maldive fish so important?

Hikimas (Maldive fish) is a dried, smoked tuna product that can be stored for months without refrigeration. It has been a dietary staple for centuries and was historically the country’s main export, traded to Sri Lanka and across the Indian Ocean. It appears in countless Maldivian dishes.

How is climate change affecting Maldivian fishing?

Rising ocean temperatures alter tuna migration routes, and coral bleaching reduces the reef habitat that supports bait species. Fishers report having to travel farther from shore to find skipjack schools. A 2024 report by the Maldives Ministry of Fisheries estimated that climate-related shifts could reduce tuna catches by up to 20% by 2050.

Are there restrictions on fishing in protected areas?

Yes. The Maldives has banned net fishing within its waters and prohibited shark fishing entirely. Some atolls — notably Baa Atoll, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve — have additional restrictions on fishing methods and zones. Always check local regulations before fishing independently.

The ocean as archive

The techniques described here are not merely a set of skills — they are an archive of ecological knowledge accumulated over generations. Each method encodes observations about current patterns, bait behavior, fish physiology, and the relationship between wind and tide. The pole-and-line method, in particular, offers a rare model of how a fishing nation can feed itself and export protein without strip-mining the ocean. That the Maldives now markets its tuna as a premium, sustainably caught product is less a marketing strategy than a continuation of a very old principle: take only what you can catch one by one, and know when to stop.

For a deeper look at the boats that make this all possible, see our guide to the dhoni legacy and Maldivian maritime history.

Sources and further reading

Hassan, A. “The Lifeline of the Maldives: A Historical Journey Through Fishing.” Dhidaily.mv, 2025. 🔗

Maldives Compass. “Fishing and Island Life.” 2025. 🔗

Blue Frontier Maldives. “The Art of Maldivian Fishing.” 2025. 🔗

The Guardian. “Just a Pole and Line: How a Maldives Tradition Is Ensuring Tuna Stocks Thrive.” 2025. 🔗

PLOS ONE. “Bycatch in Maldivian Pole-and-Line Tuna Fisheries.” 2017. 🔗

Related reading on IslandHopperGuides

Medicinal Plants Sustain Maldivian Traditions — explores the botanical knowledge used alongside fishing practices.

Sustainable Tourism: Authentic Encounters in the Maldives — how to visit fishing communities responsibly.

Maldivian Cuisine: A Culinary Journey — the role of tuna and Maldive fish in everyday cooking.

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Emily Carter

I’m Emily Carter, a travel writer who’s on the road most of the year—sometimes with my husband Michael and our kids, Lily and Ethan, and other times traveling solo so I can focus closely on one place. When you travel with me through my writing, you’ll notice I move slowly, walking local streets, stopping at markets, and paying attention to how a place really feels once you’re there. When I’m traveling with my family, I’m always thinking about what will work well for you if you have kids, and what often gets overlooked. When I’m on my own, I spend more time in neighborhoods, along coastal paths, or in historic areas where daily life unfolds naturally. I focus on practical details, everyday food, and real experiences, so you know what you’ll actually see, hear, and experience when you arrive.

And oh, I may earn a small commission from affiliate links, which helps support the site at no extra cost to you. Thanks for the support!

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