Man Overboard!!

May 26, 2010

Man Overboard! Nathan, the deckhand went on deck to check the p-line, and slipped on the slippery deck. Luckily, Allen, the cook, saw him go and gave the alarm. In the ensuing chaos, we got a buoy throw to mark the spot, had one person pointing at him as I turned the boat around, and were able to snag him with a ring buoy. While trying to figure out how to get a semi-conscious 200-pounder over the rail and into the boat (tried it lately??), the supper flamed out, causing a fire in the galley. When we finally noticed, Allen and I went in with fire extinguishers to put it out. Allen was overcome in the smoke, and I had to pull him out of the cabin. As the flames spread, we put out the Mayday call, grabbed our immersion suits from the wheelhouse, put them on as quickly as possible, and retreated to the rear of the boat. I had to give the abandon ship order, and we all entered the water. Unfortunately the wind had flipped our life raft, and we had to get it turned over. Forming a chain of 4, we paddled about 100 feet to reach the drifting raft, and crawled inside. The EPIRB and flares would help searchers find us, but in the meantime we began to discover how cramped a 4-person raft really is – how DO you go to the bathroom discretely??
Fortunately, this all took place in the Sealing Cove harbor, on the True North, as part of the AMSEA Onboard Drill Instructor’s course, a Coast Guard requirement for me, as skipper of a commercial vessel. The law requires monthly drills administered by a certified drill instructor on each boat, so I decided to take the 10 hour course. I must say, it was an eye opener! You think you are prepared, but this course actually throws you in the water, gets you up to your knees in a flooding engine room with the typical repair materials available, and exposes you to the art of thinking like a survivor.
Dug Jensen, the instructor, teaches survival to the Coast Guard, and is one of the best instructors I’ve ever been around. He makes you very aware that you, and you alone, are the only fire department, mechanic, medic, etc. in your world, and you better be able to think out of the box if you want to live. Awesome.

Lovie’s flight got her into Sitka at noon, and she walked right into the middle of this, with her typical big smile. By 8 pm, she was able to get into her survival suit within a minute, and had floated around in the 35 degree water with the rest of us. Quite a welcome! It was wonderful to see her again! I was proud to show her all the improvements made on the boat, and even enjoyed her scathing remarks about the general cleanliness and dietary plan…. I mean, Willie in a confined area is NOT a big helper for cleanliness, and M&M’s and coffee are 2 of the basic food groups…. Aren’t they?

We headed out Monday morning for a 2-day opening in Salisbury Sound, about 3 hours north. I like the place, and wanted to show her the area. It is relatively protected, although it gets swells directly in from the west. We caught 1 fish, a 27 pounder. At 4.50 a pound, that doesn’t quite pay for the fuel and expenses! We fished back in Sitka Sound for the remainder of the week, for 0 fish. Boo. Next week, same story. Long trip, 1 fish, only a 10 pounder. Worse and worse.

Last Thursday, we decided we would save money by staying at the dock and working on the boat. It was a beautiful day, and we got lots of painting, cleaning, repairs, completed. Pleasure and sport boats were leaving the harbor in droves, out searching for the salmon that are just beginning to move in toward the bays and inlets. Suddenly, a southwest wind began to blow, and increased to about 30 knots. Waves were forming right here in the harbor, which is well protected. Not a nice time to be out, unsuspecting. I turned on the VHF to monitor for emergencies while we worked inside. About 6pm, I heard a vessel calling the Coast Guard. The 45-foot troller Iron Horse had anchored just outside Cook Island, in a marginal anchorage filled with rocks. We don’t know the details yet, but somehow she slipped anchorage, struck a rock, and went down. The skipper was alone, and was just able to get into his inflatable raft in time. He was unable to get to his VHF to send a Mayday, but was able to get a cell phone call to a buddy. One boat was in the vicinity, and was searching the coastline for him – first fears were that the inflatable had flipped in the strong wind. After about 45 minutes, a searcher saw him on the beach and was able to make contact via cell phone. He was ok, but the boat is history. A neighbor in the harbor said it was a good boat, and the guy is a good skipper. One slip of time and chance, and there it goes.

The photo of the Jayhawk lowering a rescue swimmer was taken about 1 mile from where the boat sank, one day before, as they practiced. The boat was travelling at about 5 knots, the chopper approached from the rear, lowered a line, then a man, then lifted a victim off and flew away. Quite a tricky bit of flying – but I for one LOVE to see them practice!!


As time goes on, I am more and more aware that this is for real. No 911, no mess-ups, no mercy. Just raw ocean power. It’s fascinating, it’s wonderful, but it’s way bigger than any of us. I have great respect for those that live on it.

This week, a change of luck. We got a tip from a friend about a location where the salmon were starting to appear. We trolled for 2 days in relatively protected, beautiful waters, and caught 4 nice fish. There is hope! We caught one each morning, one each evening, within 10 minutes of the same time at the same locations! As one old troller told me, “Keep a logbook. Write down where you caught them, when, what you used, what the tide was doing, what the weather was doing. It’ll be your best tool over time.” I believe it!
Well, enough for now. Summer’s coming! Fish on!

Well, one thing to be said, it’s easier to type clearly with the swells I’m in than it would be to write longhand!  I just entered Salisbury Sound from Peril Straits, and am getting a nice big swell in from the open ocean.  I’m on my way back to Sitka, which feels like home for some reason, after our foray into the Frederick Sound/Petersburg area. In short, it wasn’t a complete bust because of the people I got to meet, old friends visited, and the knowledge gained from fishing the waters of the “protected”  Inside Passages.  About only thing they are protected from is the direct swell from the open ocean.  Tidal influences are greater, winds can get savage quickly, and it’s gloomy most of the time.  To top it off, we only caught 11 fish in 2 weeks, while at Sitka the average count rose from 7 fish per landing average to 41 per boat per landing – which would have made a significant dollar change in our incomes!  In a nutshell, I lost about 600 dollars worth of gear, paid the City of Petersburg for mooring in a less-than-user-friendly harbor, and gave about 500 dollars to the fuel pump.  On the positive side, Keith and I remain friends, not even miffed after a lean month, Willie is settling in to be a good boat dog, we didn’t break down in any serious manner, and I got at least this far in good form!

To start with, when we left Sitka headed for Chatham Strait, we misread the tide and current info and fought the incoming tide all the way from Sitka to Salisbury, where it turned, then fought the opposite tide all the way up the Peril Straits.  This doesn’t sound bad, but when our top speed in still water is 7 knots per  hour, and you take up to 4 knots against you in tide, it gets rather slow!  The tight point in the Peril Straits is a little quarter-mile stretch called Sergius Narrows.  With the high tide cycle in the month, the constricted currents there can reach as high as 9 knots, which means my boat at full throttle would be going BACKWARD 2kph!  Luckily we hit it at only about 5.5 knots – at one point in the stretch I saw a forward progress rate of 1.1 knots.  The whirlpools and eddies created by the water move you side to side, try to spin you around, and all sorts of fun, so the sweat factor increases a bit.  Larger vessels call ahead to warn you if they are approaching, because it’s only big enough for one rig at a time.  Today, I met the TAKU, the big State ferry as I approached, and waited for her to clear (duh!).  I then entered, bucking a current of about 1 knot, and just as I did, the second, high speed ferry FAIRWEATHER called to say she was almost there!  I contacted her, just cleared the passage, and here she came!  Impressive vessel, a huge catamaran just blazing her way thru the twists and turns!  Imagine my sense of importance shooting up when she called on her radio, “True North, this is the Fairweather.  Could we please pass starboard to starboard so we have room to make the turn?”  I affirmed the intentions, and altered my course.  Port to port is the standard rule, and you are supposed to both agree when deviating, according to the Rules of the Road. 

So our trip started with that sort of air – the weather was nice all the way out to our first night’s anchorage in Whitewater Bay on Admiralty Island.  We left at 8 am and anchored at dark, about 9 pm.  One begins to sense just how big this country is when plugging away on an empty sea for hours on end, with stupendous, endless scenery all around.  More on that later. 
We made our way down the west coast of Kuiu Island, as far as Tebenkof Bay, fishing our way down.  We caught one in the Kingsmille area, but no more.  Trying to work our way back to reach Petersburg by Saturday evening, we fished a number of areas along the way.  Nothing.  Then, at Saginaw Bay on the Northern end of Kuiu, we fished along a sheer cliff that went straight down for another 120 fathoms underwater.  We had a nice fish, and just as Keith was landing him, the lines began to go crazy, and he remembered the warnings he’d had about the underwater reef that hooks out into the bay.  We jammed the throttle to full speed to lift the lines by our momentum, but one 45 lb lead broke off and added to the reef.  The breakaway lines we put on for that very situation did their job, saving us from broken trolling poles or worse, but a 150 dollar lead stayed behind.  Unfortunately, the lure of catching another fish in the same hole overcame good judgment, and we replaced the missing lead, dropped the gear down to 30 fathoms, and tried from the other way.  We left a lot of room where we thought the reef was, and made the approach.  We were both looking at the depth sounder display when we saw a strange, vague image appear up to 5 fathoms.  We commented that im must be seaweed growing on the old leads lost by other fishermen, when all of our lines began the dance again, and we realized the reef had suckered us in from this way also!  This time one lead broke off, and the wire on the other snapped at the boat, leaving all the gear from that line behind.  Fortunately the float bag (a Styrofoam float that keeps the outboard lines separated) was still attached, and by some tricky and heart in throat maneuvering with the tide to keep the stainless steel wire out of our prop, we hooked on to in and tried to pull it free.  We got all the gear, but one more lead bit the dust.  Calling it quits, we headed up past Kake Bay to Pinta Rocks for the night.  Leaving the reef, the tide rip was so bad a half mile offshore that we had large, chaotic 3 foot waves and a spinning current pushing us backwards at 3 knots.  Once we broke free ( a 15 minute process), we continued to the anchorage.  It was dark upon arrival, and we tentatively mad our way to the mooring grounds.  Setting the anchor, I noticed the vague forms of 3 large crosses on the beach.  I took a photo, and you may sense the loneliness of the place.  Keith told me the story of a young lady who I met later in Petersburg, who lost her brother and 2 friends in an open skiff offshore.  Only one body was ever recovered – the lonely sea and the sky…

We made our way on to Petersburg the next day, and arrived in time to catch the rushing tide up the Wrangell Narrows to the harbor.  I mentioned before that the harbor was “less than user friendly” – you should try docking a boat in the place with a tide running!  The current flows right thru the harbor, and there are even waves created at the piers just from the running water!  The first approach to the dock, Keith was driving, and suddenly we were about to smack the next boat sideways.  He was able to clear it, turn in time to make a big circle, and approached for another try.  Third time was a charm, but I had to bail off in a hurry and throw a line around a cleat to keep us from smacking the dock!  We found that slack tide was the only time to approach or leave – I got pinned to the side once and just about had a disaster upon leaving.  One day I made 4 big circles trying to get lined up straight and never did get it!  Keith took a shot at it and was able to wallow in – not pretty, but no damage—successful!

There was a distinct lack of fishermen out trolling – we saw maybe 5 different boats working in the 2 week period.  Should have told us something…..!  Still, stubbornness dictated that we give it all a sporting try rather than bail out, so we did, although we called it quits a couple of days before the end of April, rather than waste fuel.

I decided that enough was enough, and headed for Sitka on Friday afternoon.  Keith left for Montana to do some profitable roofing, and may return in July for the main summer King salmon opening.

I anchored for the night in Portage Bay in the dark, recalling the stories Larry had told the night before about the crab boat that lost a thru-hull fitting during the night at anchor there, and sunk, losing all 3 crew as they slept…  I checked my anchor a lot, and it was eerie, thinking about the incident, and seeing my anchor chain glowing down, down, 6 or 7 fathoms, with the phosphorescent glow as the tide streamed by.  I awoke at 3:30 am,  pulled anchor, and got on my way with the radar guiding me thru the fog.  I saw one boat far to my stern, which finally caught me and passed just off of Kake – the only boat I saw all day.  Talk about weirded out --  it gets a little strange, steaming along, and no sign or sound of human life, for a whole 12 hours or so!   I did manage to make contact with Eli on the Emydon (a new Petersburg friend, who guides bear hunting this time of year), somewhere in a bay on the west coast of Admiralty Island.  Just a voice in the ether, but somewhat comforting to know someone knew where I was!  

A turn around the corner into Peril Strait, and the wind hit.  I bucked a stiff chop as I entered and headed for Saook Bay, an abandoned old cannery where I planned to anchor for the night.  I was getting pretty punchy after a long day, and was ready to sleep.  I called Brad and Minnie  on the Bear, on the off chance that they were nearby.  Minnie answered, and told me their location, about 3 more hours travel.  I still had daylight, and the thought of being with friends for the night was more than I could pass up, so on I went.  Somewhere near Hoonah Sound, I saw the beautiful 50+ foot wooden boat that they live on and guide from.  I just tied up alongside, since their anchor is about as big as the Queen Mary’s, and went aboard to see how luxury lives!  Pretty fantastic boat!  If you ever want to take a sightseeing trip or bear hunt with them, your money would be well spent!  Nice quarters, knowledgeable hosts, and the best scenery and company around! 

I left the next morning much cheerier and refreshed, with good advice on managing the tides thru the Narrows.  I finally made it home(!) to Sealing Cove harbor at Sitka at about 7 pm.  Large sigh of relief!  Now, to see if I can catch fish here, by myself, or not!  That’s the next tale… stay tuned!