Fourth of July on a Boat Out at Sea

July 4th

It has been hard for me to find what to write about aboard this boat. There is so much going on, I have a lot of stories, and the crew has been a joy (well lets call it interesting) to get to know. Due to the confidentiality agreement we sign with our contracts, there is little that I can write about that revolves around the fishing practices of the boat. Because of this, most things I want to write about or has happened that has dictated my mood, time in town, time not fishing at sea, and time spent fishing, is all related to the fishing practices. I am a lucky biologist. I got aboard a boat and fishery that is really relaxed yet unpredictable. Every day is different, but fishing has been rather casual. There is a lot of time spent reading books, listening and sharing music, and watching movies. We've had barbecues, some great Vietnamese fish soup, plenty of time in town, and done are fare share of fishing. This looks to be my last trip aboard this vessel. Weather is going to be the determining factor on what kind of time table I get put on, not fishing. The fish are there, we just have to be able to turn our gear and get to them. But the weather has to be on our side for this small crab boat to be able to do that.

The difference between longlineing pot gear and the crab pot gear you see on the Deadliest Catch is in the way the pots are strung together in one long string. If you've ever seen the Deadliest Catch then you see the hand on the rail throwing the hook at the bags for every pot. With longline gear, the hook is only thrown one time. Then the line on the bags is placed in the block and the line is rolled up onto the boat. Each pot is hooked onto the line about 20 fathoms (120 feet) apart from one another. The line is the key to bringing up the gear, if that line breaks, then there is only one more chance to pull up the rest of the gear by going to the opposite end, and start over. If the line breaks again from that side, the gear is lost. With large swells, a rolling boat, and a stiff wind, the task of keeping the line in one piece is much more difficult. With traditional crab pot gear, you don't have this problem because each piece of gear is separate from one another. If that buoy line breaks, then one pot is lost, not 20-40. Weather than acts as a much larger restriction within the longline pot fishery then traditional pot fishing. The advantages to the longline gear is in the rate in which a boat can turn the gear, and the elimination of time wasted looking for buoys and throwing the hook. So with the prediction of winds blowing 35-50 knots over the next week, changing directions from one day to the next, and the unpredictability of what we're going to be able to do, I'm not sure what the fishing is going to be like for the immediate future of this cruise.

It is July 4th though today and don't dare to think that being out to sea is going to stop a boat full of men from finding some way to celebrate the great American summer holiday. There may be no fireworks, its rainy, foggy, cold, and the boat's a rocking too much to have any sort of BBQ, but we've got some ribs for dinner that come out just nice in the oven. A couple of Seal Bombs (not designed to blowup seals, but only to scare them off the gear) take the place of snakes and sparklers as the "good stuff". In all honesty, everyone is just happy to be fishing and making money right now to care too much about the holiday. Of course my mind wonders back down south here and there, thinking of friends and family and the fact I could be celebrating with them, but I'll be home soon enough. Missing the 4th of July becomes less of a deal.

I know last year while I was out to sea for 45 days, a boat in the Bering Sea had to abandon ship, some of the crew was lost and most of you who heard the news were scared that the boat might have been mine. When things like that happen, everyone on a boat becomes somber and silently begin to cogitate. The radio woke everyone up again this morning about 1300 today. A crew member (I'm going to leave out all specifics) aboard a longline boat this morning fell of the side or back of the boat in their pajamas. There is nothing specific that I can say about this except that everyone aboard this boat has seen more than their fare share of this before. With a crew this veteran, there is no shortage of stories of lost friends, either witnessed or toasted in the name of later in town, who have fallen over the rail, or been killed while fishing. It's become a somber 4th of July as its very evident that the crews minds have shifted quickly to the past. Each possessing a mournful glaze on their eyes, and the mood is very unpredictable. But almost as quickly as it came upon them, its gone. Less than 30 minutes later, there seems to be no effects of the news on anyone. We're fishing, I guess it's expected. It happens. I guess it's something these men have had to come to grips with many times over many years.

Happy 4th of July everyone, I'll be back soon. Trust in that.

Casey

Kickin' The Blues That Can't Be Satisfied

The days have been starting to become monotonous aboard the boat. Each day seemingly a rip off of Bill Murray's Groundhog's Day. The same ominous grey back drop, which seems to have been stolen from a scene in a Hitchcock movie, looms around all view points and extending over horizon. Everyday is wet, grey and rocky. The weather seems to spit water at me from all directions like the war scene in Forest Gump. The wind has been a steady 10-15 knots. Just windy enough to make you thoughtful of every step and action taken to ensure no spilling of the morning-noon-3 o’clock cup of coffee. The boat rocks continuously with no end with an irrational rhythm. Rocking with just enough tilt and randomness forcing you to be mindful of every step and movement. Trust me, its as annoying as it sounds. My rack has the resemblance of the cut the beautiful assistant in half magician's cart. I have to roll myself into it every time I want to find somewhere away from the galley to run to. Getting out is a different animal. Usually ends with me conceding my pride and I send myself rolling, tumbling, and acrobatically springing to my feet from the 2 foot drop. I need more practice. Food is running low, and portions have been cut back a little. Not enough food ordered and stocked the last time we left town is considered the reason to blame. The books I have left to read just don’t seem interesting enough to keep my attention. And the nature in which I have to rest my head and contort my body if I am to watch a movie in my rack after the day’s work is done, has left the right side of my neck in a loop-swoop-and-pull kind of a knot.

Not so surprising I’ve started to ask myself if maybe I’ve spent enough time in the Bering Sea. Come August, I will have been at this job for a full year. I will have totaled upwards of 180 days of it at sea. Have I gotten everything that I set out to get from this job. Not having a familiar pillow and comforter that one can rely upon to be there when the day gets to stressful and worrisome, is starting to upset me. I keep reminding myself of the freedom this job allows when I’m done, but is that freedom still worth this to me. Is it worth 180 days of my life lived in this Groundhog’s Day of mine?

I woke up this morning sore and in pain. My shoulder hurting and my back yelling at me. The coffee burnt. The eggs dry. Out of bread for toast, and Ibuprofen stock low. “Haul 257” The captain comes down to tell me as I’m donning my Orange Unitard work suit that I noticed yesterday, has a growing hole in the crotch. I bundle up, throw the rest of the stale coffee down my throat quickly and without tasting it, grab my clip board and muster a couple of consecutive steps towards my position on deck. The first pot comes aboard. I press my finger onto the clicker duck taped to my clip board. Pot 1 of 52 down. Next Pot. Click. Pot Three. Click. Pot Fou... SPOUT.





Everyone’s head turns and there are two Killer Whales about 100 yards aft of starboard. They land the pot, and get on my feet from my spool of line I call a bench, too take a look.


SPOUT.





Again, this time closer, and I catch the very end of it. Now I’m racing back into my room to get the camera. I’ve heard other tales from observers of Killer Whales following the boat feeding from the by catch tossed over board, and I see a chance for some pictures.


I come back out to see all 5 guys out on deck staring out in the direction of the whales as I hustle aft to the rail on the stern of the boat (sorry no life jacket mom, but don’t worry, I shuffled my feet across the deck, I didn’t exactly run.... well I didn’t sprint...).

“Have they left?”
“No they’re... right there!”









This job has it days, weeks, maybe months, that are rough to endure. Mentally and physically challenging in ways different from jobs and day to day life on land in the city. Of course that can be left unsaid, but can’t really be understood until you yourself have been through this specific set of challenges. Throw on top of this fire the fact that I myself come aboard as an outsider. As the Government. Then sprinkle on the fact the boat pays my salary but I don’t work for the boat. There are obstacles beyond the obvious ones that come with life out at sea. It’s easy to forget the benefits and the experiences I am afforded to take home with me when I leave this job. The pictures, the hikes, new cities, new people, new foods, stories, and above all, the freedom to travel after a contract completed. For now that is good enough to keep him focused on what I am here to do, and what I am asking the job to do for me. For now it can fulfill that. The next move, the next step is around the corner though. Don’t for one second think I haven’t been plotting it. As soon as it’s set in stone, I’ll let you all know. For now, I’m just going to enjoy the occasional Killer Whale Spy Hopping in the distance (Yes I really took this picture).








- Casey Franklin

12 days later...

May 22

It’s now day three of my new assignment. A new boat, a new crew, a new type of fishery. I am a guest this time aboard a smaller pot boat fishing for Sablefish (Black Cod). Pot caught Sablefish is saved for the end of the season fishing by most pot boats. These boats are usually crab boats finished with their Oplio and Baridi Crab quotas. They switch out the pot launcher, drop off the crab pots and pick up the much smaller, circular Sablefish pots. By the size of the pot, a full one looks like it could only yield 30 to a total max of 40 fish.

This fishery allocates only very small quotas compared to the others I’ve been ridding along with. The fleet is small and the crew experienced. This boat fits that mold. The crew has been fishing for the last 5 months switching from one crab season to the next. This is the last fishing of the year. A month or so picking at their Sablefish and Halibut quota, and then its home for the next couple of months for most of them. The crew size is small, 4 deck hands, an engineer/captain (only for one trip), and the captain.

This crew and the job is really laid back, the mood very easy. Every crew member hails from a different part of the world; Vietnam, Samoa (not American Samoa, Western Samoa), different parts of Alaska, Washington, New York. The boat is packed with soda, snack foods, lunch meat, water, music and movies. Free reign has been given to me multiple times a day to make myself at home and take what I want. As always, this isn’t as hard of a way to earn a dollar as it seemed like it would be when I signed up for this.



May 25
Today is one of those days where I wake up and remember where I am. Where the mundaneness of the everyday grind has faded away long enough to allow my mind put sentences and ideas together about my position in the world. “I’m in Alaska?” Is usually stated out loud as if this statement can’t be true. I’ve been at sea for around 120 days since the day I started this job back in August. When the fog lifts, the sun shines, the nearest bit of uninhabited land shows it’s self in the distance, cogs within my brain each rotating counter directions lock up; which queues my lungs to breath deep, my head to rise, my eyes to gaze, my nose to smell, and my mouth to utter those words, “I’m in Alaska?” Today is one of those days.

May 31
Two days from a steam into land. A day in port to get supplies that have almost run out. A day to catch up with the news. A day to stretch my cramped legs. A day, after 11 days at sea, and another 10+ waiting on the other end. I have been waiting for a day for the past 8 days. One man is running home once his feet hit the dry land. A 5 month sentence on the boat over and a 2 month reprieve with his wife, 5 kids, and motor-home on the horizon.

As for me and my sentence, I have 30 days down and 60 to go. I may change that. I want to be back here by August 1 for the beginning of longline season. This boat will have a need for me for another 3 trips at the minimum. That’ll get me to right around July 1st. My boss may be persuaded to allow me to go back to Seattle at that point so that I can debrief, brief and get back to Dutch for the next trip by beginning of August. This would give me probably 2 weeks in July to have to play, get a sunburn, and see friends and family. A 90 contract from that date would land me in Seattle right around Halloween. The one true schedule this job holds to is that there is no schedule. I can plan as much as I want to, but the likely hood of everything falling together is unusual. But that is the plan as of now.

Happy Anniversary Ben and Keri Saad. I think of the two of you often. For those who don’t know, Ben is serving is second deployment in Afghanistan in the Army. It was always Ben’s plan to be exactly where he is since he was in high school, serving his country as a helicopter pilot. Its easy to be proud of that man.



June 1

This morning we were getting the last of the fish into the live tank before heading back into town to off load and do town things, when the Coast Guard announced they were coming to board. Kodiak, Alaska is home to the largest Coast Guard base in the world. They board the fishing vessels periodically to make sure protocol is being fallowed and the vessel is up to code on the safety regulations. Last October I was aboard the Pathfinder F/V when we were boarded by the Coast Guard as well. I was surprised to see a familiar face among the Coasties, Brandon Sanford, a kid who I graduated high school with. Of course I was wondering if he was going to be among the crew that jumped on board this time.

Brandon sticks his head in the galley and starts spinning around, this time without that authoritative mustache he had been growing last Fall. It’s very amazing that two kids from the North Side of Spokane would run into one another two times within a years time in the middle of the Bering Sea. I have had so many “small world” moments in Alaska with the people I’ve met, but this one is the craziest. It’s good to see that this job of his has treated him well and has provided him a career he’s taken too.

I showed Brandon and a couple of the new Coasties around the boat, which takes all of 3 minutes. Then conversation turned towards our mutual friends living on land. Who’s are getting married, are married, who’s doing what, the natural small talk. Hard to believe that conversation would be taking place in the Bering Sea for the second time. After the inspection, and completion of the small talk, Brandon now an officer, takes his crew back to their skiff to ride back to the gigantic “mother ship”. I’m glad I got to see him again. Though we weren’t close by any stretch of the word, in high school, it was really good to see him again.

Now it’s time to finish the days fishing and steam back into Dutch Harbor for a one day, two night vacation. In this fishery, I don’t have any responsibility during the offload, there is a biologist at the plant we offload to that monitors, takes specimen samples, and all the rest of the dirty work. That leaves me to my vises; meaning a couch, the internet, and Sports Center.

June 3,

Looks like I'll be around land longer then thought. I'll be here for two days before we roll back out to sea.

- Casey