The Grind

They call it “the Grind”.

   

That time between the exciting early days and the end of the season.  The fish are bigger, but the weather is changing already.  Days are getting shorter at a noticeable rate, and there is a sense of something different in the air, a tangible feeling of autumn.  The temperature hasn’t changed much, still around 46-50 degrees, but Monday morning there was a new bite to the eastern breeze.    The wind shifted to the east for one of the first times I can remember since being here, and we had the first gale force winds since we came to Cross Sound.  A strong weather front moved across the Gulf of Alaska towards Kodiak and gave us a real blow.  The patterns shifted from summer to fall mode, and with it the mood.  For the first time since being here, we have allowed ourselves to think of winding up the season in a few weeks, and suddenly, we are ready.  When you know that you have a couple of months at least to go, you just put it all aside and focus on the daily grind, but once you begin to think about the end of season and the trip home, things change!  Hot tub, Willie, the garden, playing music again… wow!  We do have another life that isn’t all about staying afloat!  But for at least a couple of weeks more, the Grind! 

The mail plane…

A number of boats have already pulled out this morning, but we are in the inner harbor, and the tide is minus 0.4ft, not enough depth in the channel for our 6 foot draft to clear.  We’re soaking up the last minutes of relative security tied to the dock, and then off again.  Steve, with his shallow draft boat, has already left, and reported calm seas – I like it!  Hopefully there will be a lot of fish moving through, and we’ll manage to snag a few.  The picture shows a typical coho – we’ve been catching 30 – 50 of these a day, and they do add up.     It’s been a while since we had a 75 fish day, and everyone is complaining about how slow things are.  A couple of 100 plus days would sure help pay the bills! 

Lovie is groaning a bit this morning – she came down the ramp at low tide yesterday, stepped onto the slick, wet wooden dock and had a great fall.  Nothing broke, but she is pretty stove up today.  I think the fun and excitement has worn off for her now, and she’s ready to head back to a less demanding lifestyle for a while.  Neither of us are as young as we once were, and the sheer physical effort of the life does wear on one a bit.  There isn’t much that doesn’t hurt on me, and I know it’s even harder on her.  Ah, riches and adventure – paid for with Advil and Bag Balm! 

We’ve met 2 of the previous owners of our boat since being here, and that topic should probably be another post.  During this layover, an old man with a cane and black Lab hobbled down the dock, and told us he was the one who brought the True North up from Tacoma, brand new.  He now fishes a little 26 foot hand troller, and had some interesting tales about early days.  More later.

Well, we better get out of here – I am anxious to see if the gear holds up – still a little nervous after losing so much of it.  I shifted to lighter weights on my heavies, from 60 lbs to 45 lbs to save wear and tear on my worn out gurdies.  If they will just last the season, I’ll have them rebuilt – if I catch enough to pay for it!

With the fleet all in for the storm, there was an impromptu going away party for the girl that works at the General Store, going back to Washington for college.  Several of the fishermen brought out their guitars, mandolins, fiddles, and harmonicas, and played out on the deck by the store while folks visited around.  Not drinkers or party hounds, Lovie and I weren’t participating, but on our evening stroll over to the rest room, we stopped and leaned on the rail overlooking the harbor entrance.  The music was good, and the moment was almost magical – dusk, the gurgle of the receding tidewaters, the plink of the banjo and the blue notes of the harmonica – life is good.  Holding hands, we savored the moment, and quietly watched the evening light fade.  Onwards.

Fish On!