Radio Drama

Sorry about 2 posts in 2 days, but here goes!

I sat in harbor this morning waiting for the tide to turn and pondered the upcoming week.  Much rides on our ability to select the right location to fish during the main King opener at 12:01am, July 1.  Fish and Game predicts a 6-10 day opener, but it could be more or less, depending upon the amount of fish caught.  

I had the charts out, trying to divine some inspiration about the best place to fish, with places to run in bad weather and possible anchorages for the night.  My morale is at an all-time low for some reason – gray, windy, endless rainy weather and slow fishing, as well as an empty bank account with bills coming has depleted my normal reserves of optimism.  I am having doubts about my ability to perform in the crunch – I keep getting encouragement from various sources, but it really boils down to me, and sometimes that’s brutally depressing!  

It’s Saturday, and the sport and charter boys are out in force.  I heard them all leaving the harbor at 6 this morning – after a dry run fishing till 9pm last night, I had no desire to leave that early.  Only a couple of other trollers seemed hungry enough to venture out today, so I sat and pondered.  And pondered.  Weird word, ponder. 

As I did so, I had the VHF on channel 16, which we monitor all the time as it is the primary contact channel.  Suddenly a male voice,  high pitched with stress, was yelling “Mayday! Mayday! 17 foot skiff somewhere north of Hanus Point, taking on water!”  Several vessels in the area answered, and the fragments of spotty radio transmission painted the picture – a skiff, with 2 people on board, had engine trouble and was getting slopped around in the seas, taking on lots of water.  They were unable to transmit GPS coordinates,  and had only a vague idea of their true location.  After a couple of minutes, the transmissions ceased.

The radio came alive with boats heading for the general area – from the various descriptions floating around, it was about a 3 square mile area that they could be in.  I sat and listened to the conversations – guys searching north, south, in the bays, and no sightings, no transmissions.  The wind and rain in my rigging heightened the sense of urgency – 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 1 hour, and nothing.  It was easy to picture the worst – no power, wind pushing water over the stern, radio and electronics swamped, low visibility conditions – were they able to bail?  Did it sink?  Was the engine going again with just their radio dead?  The Coast Guard helicopter arrived at the approximate coordinates and acted as communication coordinator between the searching boats.  A box search was implemented, with Peisar Island as the center.  No word.

After about an hour, a charter boat called in, somewhat north of the anticipated area.  They had found the skiff, and made contact.  The skiff had lost power, swamped, drowned all the electronics so no contact could be made, but had stayed afloat.  They were able to sort out the engine problem and get started again, and were running back toward home and calmer water.  The charter boat let them talk to the Coast Guard helo, and they confirmed their intention to head for home.  The State Trooper boat from Sitka made contact and began the escort home.  I just heard the troopers call in that the skiff was safely entering Sealing Cove, where I live, so I ran out and snapped the picture of the “alleged” fishermen and their skiff as they cruised by.     All’s well that ends well, but somehow the whole incident just added another twist in my gut.  I wish my imagination wasn’t so active.  And I really don’t like the singing of the wind in the rigging right now.

Another day on the waterfront…

Finally – Catching!

Well, the week was productive at last!  We are still in the hatchery openings prior to the big July king opener, so we are assigned areas we can fish for just a couple of days a week.  We can’t go roaming all over, but I went out in what is called the “Western Channel” which was open Monday and Tuesday of this week.  I had heard rumors of fish moving in from the open ocean along the far side of the Sound, and wanted to try the area.  It’s about 2 hours across in my boat, so I was out at 4am and fished my way over, following the boundary line as we all seem to do.  That took about three and a half hours, just putt-putting along with not a single nibble in the moderate swell that rolled in from the outside waters.   I finally passed Vitskari Rocks, one of the boundary points for the area, and followed the undersea terrain to the north, trying to entice some fresh sea-run king to take my bait.  The wind began to stack the swell into a bit of a chop, typical for the Sound, but nothing to be concerned over.  As the 7 other boats in the area plodded along on similar quests in a similar pattern, the time seemed to stretch boringly into eternity.  I looked at the tide table, and saw that the tide had just gone slack and was starting to come back in.  Suddenly, my port heavy line gave some big tugs, a sure sign that something had just grabbed a hook.

I went out to the pit, leaving the boat on autopilot, and transferred control to the rear console.  I have an autopilot control, a depth sounder, and a flat screen for seeing the GPS/Nobeltec chart plotter program while working in the pit, as well as a handheld VHF in case I get in trouble back there.   There is a throttle and hand steering wheel also, so I can do everything except put the boat in forward or reverse from the pit.  There is a good deal of time spent in the rear while checking gear, so you have to be able to do everything from there while fishing alone.

Sure enough, up came a bright, beautiful 15 pounder up to be conked in the head, gaffed, and heaved aboard.  We conk them on the head before gaffing and heaving them aboard so that they don’t flop all about, bruising the meat and knocking their scales off, as well as slinging blood all over the place and getting tangled in all the lures and fishing lines in the work area.  I made the mistake of not whacking one I was afraid was too loosely hooked, and boy did he make a mess!

I put the gear back in, and went back to the pilot house.  I had barely sat down when wham!  Lines jangling away again, and another fish on!  I excitedly crawled back in the pit, and began pulling the line in.  A very nice fish, probably 20 pounds, was vigorously fighting on the line.  I tentatively pulled him hand over hand toward the boat, and got him in place for whacking.  He kept twisting away at the last minute, so I took my time.  Finally, he was positioned right, and I whacked.  It was a glancing blow, just enough to excite him, and he took off again.  I worked him back in place, and decided to whack again to tame him down.  Whack! The line broke right at the hook, and he swam away.  I was depressed, to say the least! 

Dejected, I put the gear back out, and went inside mumbling to myself – ok, maybe it was out loud, I have been alone for a long time! Ninety dollars worth of fish, gone.  Depression faded in a flash as the lines began to go wild again!  This time, it was an even larger fish, 26 pounds(after being cleaned), and I was able to cleanly conk and gaff after about a 10 minute fight.  Blues begone!

The same thing continued until I had 4 nice fish on ice, and then I looked around.  The weather was just getting yucky, the kind that just makes you tired from the continuous banging around, and no other boats were in sight.  I pointed myself back across the Sound, and 2 hours later was finally back in port.  

A very similar pattern on Tuesday, with 5 fish landed, none lost.  I caught all of them in about a 30 minute period, so I was busy cleaning for a while.  I just had the boat on autopilot, pointed north to keep me in the most agreeable position to work in, and kept my lines in the water.  When completed, I noticed my port stabilizer was riding really close to the boat.  I realized I had come across one of the scourges of the sea, the dreaded kelp monster!  There is a great deal of kelp growing in the bays and inlets of the area, and they float hither and yon as the tides move.  Generally one tries to maneuver around them, as they can be a real pain, but there is almost always some that gets wrapped around the gear during the course of a day.  If you get a really big one, it can seriously impair your ability to change directions or retrieve your gear.  Today, I had one!

I pulled the rest of the gear in to simplify the situation, and began trying to get rid of the kelp.  I was able to pull the wad up close to the boat, and began to slash.  After a long, sweaty battle, the stabilizer was freed.  Then, the work began to free the one remaining stainless trolling line.  The hydraulics were only able to get it near, but not  enough to pull it thru.  A few dicey minutes of feathering the hydraulics, putting on the brake, leaning as far as I could, cutting , breaking a knife,  finding another, and so on, I finally was free!  I pulled it all in, and headed for home. 

After unloading at the fish buyers, I finally cooked my supper in harbor at 11pm and went to bed, exhausted.  Lots of hours for 8 fish!  Prices have dropped, also, pending the summer opener.  Glad I didn’t have too many illusions about getting rich the easy way, or even getting rich!  If I could just make enough to pay the bills, that would be nice!  I’m beginning to wonder…. gotta give it the best effort that I have in me this year, and see where we wind up.  If you start to see a DONATE button on this site, you’ll get the idea of how things are!  Still not ready to trade it for my office job yet…

Fish on.

Cleanup Time!

Well, we’ve done a lot to the boat on the inside, engine, topsides, gear, rigging, rafts – but until this  week, no attention has been lavished on the exterior hull lying below waterline.  The abundance of marine life in the sea makes it important to periodically get the boat into a dry location so the bottom can be examined and cleaned – sort of like the annual visit to the dental hygienist.  Such was my plan upon returning to Sitka after the Montana trip. 

I have heard about “the Grid” forever, and only since becoming a boat owner has it had any immediate significance.  The Grid – most maritime towns have one for public use, at a very minimal price.  The idea behind the grid has been in play since boats began – bring the boat to shore on a flood tide, tie it off, and wait for the water to go away on the ebb tide.  The bottom is exposed for examination and work, until the tide returns.  Not bad if you are a flat bottomed boat, but modern boats require a bit more tlc.  The Grid is usually some form of timbers placed in the sea floor like railroad ties, in that zone that is exposed to the air when the tide is out, but is covered when the tide is in.  A dock or pilings alongside, and one can tie the boat in an upright position, just resting on the timbers as the water flows away.  Some are parallel to shore (i.e. the Petersburg grid) or perpendicular to shore, as the one at Sitka is.  Ours holds as many as 8 boats, 2 on either side of 2 dock arrangements.  There are a lot of considerations, such as the height of the  tide, if there is enough water predicted on the next tide so you can get afloat again, the position of the timbers under your boat, the tilt of your boat just as it goes aground so that it doesn’t lean the wrong way and fall over (bad!), etc.  Still, it’s cheap, effective, and done daily by mariners needing to see the bottom of their boats.

I didn’t go on the Grid.  Steve J. called me the day I got back and told me I should get on down there that evening, as the tides were right.  Nervous Nellie that I am, I had to go down and look, and see all the possibilities.  One spot remained open as of 8pm, and the high tide (when you want to be there) was at 3am.  I was exhausted from my trip, so caught a few winks with the alarm set for 12:30 am.  I woke up at the alarm, and had to talk myself into each step – clothes on, start the engine, untie the lines, back out of the stall.   Sometimes every step of the way is just tough!  It was really dark, something that occurs for only a few hours here this time of year, so I made my way out of the harbor with a floodlight to shine on the channel markers.  I got over into the main Sitka channel where the Grid is located, and eased my way over.  Another boat had left, but someone else had taken the spot I had eyed as mine, and as I circled to go in, another boat came cruising in and took the place.  After a few more circles, I decided to go back to the stall and to bed.  

Sticking to my original plan, I took my car up to Halibut Point Marine, about 7 miles from Sealing Cove where I live.  I left it at about 8am, and began the long trek back to town.  Fortune would have it that about 3 miles later I passed right by a construction site where my good friend Rich was working.  Stopping to chat for a minute, he convinced me we could visit while he took me back to the boat, and Who Am I To Argue??  I then drove the boat up the coast and waited to catch the crane ride onto dry ground.

The crane straddles a tall, narrow dock arrangement, sort of like a parking stall with 20 foot walls.  Huge nylon slings are suspended down into the water, and you gently drive your boat in to them.  The operator lifts the slings to stop your boat, then moves the gear back and forth until you are cradled in a balanced position.  Once he is  satisfied, he begins to lift.  It’s really weird to be 20 feet below the operator, then be sitting in your boat 10 feet above his head!  Once you are clear of the dock, he drives you over to a spot, lowers you onto wood blocks, then the crew places supportive stands all around your boat so it doesn’t fall over.  Once secure, the straps are released, removed, and you get a ladder to get off the boat. 

It was really cool to see the unseen.  My hull had a short, nappy fuzz all over, but not as bad as I expected.  The rudder and prop were the worst, with long, green streamers prolific.  The keel cooler pipes ( my boats radiator!) were covered with mussels, as were the transducers for my depth sounders.  Barnacles covered the prop, and had to be polished off with a wire wheel grinder.

  The zincs were abysmal. Electrolysis renders them useless in about 2 years, and this is year 3 for mine.  I told you I’d elaborate on zincs, and this seems like the place.  When you place dissimilar metals in a salt water solution, you essentially create a battery.  Current is generated and flows from one metal to another, based on the ionic value of the particular metals.  On boats we have aluminum, copper, stainless steel, bronze, brass, and all sorts of metals.  The rules of chemistry say that metal is remove from the least noble of the available metals during the process, and zinc is less noble than them all.  The term “sacrificial anode” is used, and sacrificial is the key.  We put chunks of zinc on the boat, connect it to the other metals by bonding straps or direct connection, and presto – your nice steel shaft or bronze thru-hull fitting doesn’t dissolve and leave you in trouble – the zinc dissolves instead, and you don’t sink!  We just have to replace them every couple of years.  A side benefit of this zinc activity is that fish seem to be attracted to certain electrical charges, which the proper amount of zinc seems to provide.  You can see from the pictures what used zincs look like!  Note the new, shiny ones on the “after” pictures.

The bottom paint was not terrible, but did need to be redone.  Bottom paint isn’t to make it pretty – it contains some pretty potent compounds that inhibit the green and gray slime that tends to grow on the hulls.  I’ve seen some neglected boats around here with seaweed growing about 15 feet long!  My neighbor, who has not been here all year, has ribbon kelp about 3 feet long all over the place.  As you can see from the before and after rudder/prop picture, I had a bit of growth trailing along!

So, as soon as it was shored up, I fired up the pressure washer before the goo on bottom dried and peeled off as much as I could.

I had to grab the mussels to peel them off – pressure washer wouldn’t even touch them.   This little collection was stuck to the keel cooler and attached zincs pretty tightly!

 

Once washed, I removed all the zincs and headed for the supply house to get replacements before the store closed.  I found them all, and then (exhausted by now!) got a shower, supper, and a short night’s sleep, courtesy of the awesome Dolands.  Up at 4am and back to the yard to mask and paint.  I ran out of paint at about 7:30 am, so back to town for another gallon. Cough!  Only $175 per gallon – you certainly scrape the can clean at that price!  I think my father-in-law, Norm, was spot on in his observation -- “Sounds like to me the money in fishing is in owning the marine supply house!”  Truer words were never spoken….!

Finally, by noon I had everything cleaned, painted, and installed.  A few extra hours to let the paint dry, and I was on my way again.  On the way back to town, I saw a cloud of water vapor right in my path, and sure enough, it was my old friends, the Coast Guard, practicing hoists just to make me feel secure!  I motored by, enthralled by the skill displayed, and had to snap a shot or two.

Today I completed the Upright and Watertight course by AMSEA, and learned a few more things about how to keep the boat on top of the water in a useable condition!  One more item to do – install new troll wire tomorrow, since the old wire is more splices, kinks, and repairs than not – can’t afford to have that break in the big opener! 

Now I have to make some money!  Monday I’ll fish somewhere – the charter guys are getting skunked the last few days, but next week is going to be a winner, I just know it!  Next photos will be of lots of fish, I hope!  Stay tuned!

Catch-Up Time

Well, I’m overwhelmed.   The quick trip back to Montana to see what I could sell to carry us thru to the main King opening brought contact with a lot of good friends and acquaintances.  I was blown away by the number of people who referred to this blog, and who wondered why I didn’t update it a little more frequently.  You don’t really know what that means to me at this critical point of the new venture, but suffice it to say that it may be what keeps me going for the next phase. 

Wille is back in Montana – green grass, and unlimited tennis balls – he doesn’t act like he misses the boat at all!

 

One can live on scenery and adrenaline for only so long, so now it’s time to really catch fish.  Upon my return to Sitka, I am scheduled to have the boat hauled out, new zincs (don’t worry, I’ll explain zincs in another post!) installed, the bottom pressure washed and painted, and things looked at that I never get to see.  I will do an entry on the whole process, complete with pictures as it goes.  The whole thing should make the boat more efficient, more mechanically sound, and maybe a little bit more “fishy”. 

I’ll try to give a more detailed idea about how things work, for those who find interest in such things.

My boat is a power troller.  My license is a salmon power troll permit, fittingly enough.  Hand and power trolling for salmon is only permitted in Southeast Alaska.  The target species is salmon – King, Coho, and Chum.   

The basic principle for trolling involves lowering a lead ball connected to the end of a stainless steel wire.  Along the wire are pairs of brass beads, crimped on every one and a half to two fathoms (9 – 12 feet).  As the cannonball is lowered into the water, the fisherman snaps a friction snap with lure/hook/bait on to the wire at the space he wants to fish.  The ball is lowered to the lowest depth he wishes to cover, and the ball, wire, and fishing lures attached are dragged through the water at speeds between 1 to 2.5 knots per hour.  Different fish respond to faster or slower speeds, and the depth is determined by – well, depth of the ocean floor is important, and how deep the fish are is also, and where the feed is also, and many more mysterious things only guessed at or gleaned from previous experience. 

As you might suspect, things actually get a bit more complicated than that.  Power trollers use lead cannonballs that weigh from 45-60 pounds, and that requires mechanical assistance of some sort—thus, “power” trollers.   People holding a “hand” troll permit must crank the cannonballs up and down by hand, with no power assistance.  They typically uses lighter leads, and by necessity lower their gear to a shallower depth than a power troller can.  Power trollers also are permitted to fish up to 4 troll wires, so now we have to make sure they don’t get tangled up.  This involves pulleys, trolling poles, float bags or “pigs”, and some careful attention to navigation and depth soundings. 

The wire for power trolling, on my boat at least, is a 5/64 diameter stainless steel cable made of a number of smaller strands.   There are two “gurdies”, each containing two spools of wire, one on each side of the center “hayrack” near the rear of the boat.  Each of the four spools contains about 400 feet of troll wire.   Each wire goes up from the gurdy to its own block (think pulley roller), then changes direction, goes thru another block, then out thru a blue nylon donut which is attached to a “tag line”, then down into the sea.  

The gurdy is powered by a small hydraulic motor, with a direction control mounted near the “troll pit”, or the hole I stand in at the back of the boat to work.  Each gurdy is either locked or engaged.  To lower the rear line, I engage the rear gurdy spool, then use the up/down lever to raise the cannonball from its rest, then lower it slowly into the water.  As it lowers, I count the number of fathoms that go by and stop the descent when I want to put a hook snap on.  Once I lower it to the desired depth, I tie a smaller donut to the troll wire in a manner that it can’t move, and continue to lower.  The little donut jams into the big donut on the tag line, and the whole shebang swings away from the boat as the weight is taken up by the tag line, mounted out on the trolling pole.  The closest line to the boat is called the “heavy”, and the one furthest out and behind is called the “wing”.  The wings also get a little extra attention – prior to placing the small donut on the wire, I attach the overpriced piece of styrofoam and plastic  called a “float bag” ($250 bucks each!!) to the line, then let it out till the little donut moves the line away from the boat.  The float bag pulls the line away from the boat, and lets it move about 90 feet behind the heavy, so the two don’t get tangled.   This is repeated on the other side.  The tag lines (4)  are anchored to the bow area of the boat via rubber bungees.  When a fish hits the bait, the shock is transmitted up the tag line, and I see it jerking around.  Then, I go reverse the process and remove hooks, coiling them at the rear of the boat as they come in, until the fish comes to surface.  A short retrieval of the leader, a conk on the head then the gaff thru the head, and we pull a fish aboard.

 

The eagle has landed – I heard something out on deck when Lovie was with me in the harbor – looking up, we found we had an eagle directly above on the poles!  Put on the rain hat…!

I hope to take some videos and youtube them for posterity – there are several out there, some by some real yahoos!

Hope this helps, even though it might be a bit boring. 

Onward this week to paint the bottom and take a “Watertight and Stability for Fishing Vessels” course, offered by the same guys that taught the survival one.  I know it won’t be wasted time, judging from past presentations.   Then, Fish Like Fury!