The Other Side

Well, here we are again, in Elfin Cove – this  time for a forced 4-day closure by Fish and Game.  No one gets to fish, but when the closure is over, we can keep any king salmon we catch, along with the cohoes.  Regular coho season ends September 15, so we have just over a month to  make it all happen.  So far, the fishing has been steadily improving, and the weather has held within reason.  The omnipresent fog makes it a bit interesting at times, but so far the fish keep growing and biting well.  Just hope everything holds together long enough for us to get done and back to Sitka!

There have been a few comments made in emails and conversations with people bored enough to read this that cause me to wonder if I’ve failed in some way as a communicator.  One grey, bumpy, grinding afternoon, we were both tired and on edge, and Lovie snapped. “If anyone who thinks this is a FUN trip was here now, they’d soon change their minds! You should let ME make the next blog post, and they’ll know just how it really is!!”  That made me ask myself just how I could convey the daily inconveniences that we enjoy, thus this post – the OTHER side of the adventure!

We have enjoyed the awesome scenery, wonders of the sea, stimulating and terrifying moments of intensity concerning life, death, survival; we’ve discussed tragedies, solitude, loneliness, depression, ecstasy, and all the more focused issues of life as a fisherman, but like the AA slogan,  “One day at a Time “, day to day things aren’t very “mainstream” cozy.  Where to begin…

Ok, 4 am is a good start.  My alarm does it’s irritatingly cheerful warble, and I reach over to find it.  The right arm doesn’t straighten out too well after sleeping – the Advil has worn off during the night and the tendonitis in my elbow from gaffing and landing 8-10 pound fish all day gets my attention in a hurry.  Ok, sit up; wham, the head bangs on the ceiling just over my bunk.  Scrunching up like a pretzel, I bring my legs around and swing them out of the bunk hole, searching for the pair of crocs I left on the floor.  Next, my wool stocking hat.  Last shower was – hmm, I don’t remember, and I think the Herbal Essence effect has worn off my hairdo.  Grab the week-old pair of  insulated Carhardt jeans, pull on the funky smelling sweatshirt, and look out the window.  The anchor must have held, as we are still in the general location that we were last night.  I got up and checked 2 or three times during the night, as did Lovie, so sleep was pretty broken.  The wind blew, and when it shifted, you could hear the anchor chain dragging over rocks as it moved, so the worry factor didn’t allow for a deep sleep.  Oh well, coffee will help.

Coffee.  Or tea.  Those take hot water, so we light the oil stove first thing.  I don’t leave it  on at night because of the danger of carbon monoxide poisoning, so the stove is always cold in the morning.  When the cast iron top gets hot, it is really nice, and stays on all day – unfortunately, it takes about an hour to get hot enough to make coffee or tea, so we just do other things while we wait. 

The engine, an old 353 GMC, has a failing oil ring or something that causes about a pint of oil a day to exit the engine, most of it coming out of the exhaust, running down in a rivulet of blackest goo, and dripping in droplets down the starboard side of the cabin.    Sometimes if the wind is right it will cover the whole forecastle deck and roof with a fine spray of black droplets, sometimes it just runs down the pipe, but generally there is some sort of mess.  More on that at another time, but the engine always needs a daily dose of oil.  So, I move the damp, blood and goo bedecked doormat aside, move my ExtraTuffs and the footstool, and open the engine hatch.  Lying on my belly, I inspect the critical components with a flashlight – fuel strainer, alternator belts, hydraulic pump belts, water pump belts, and oil level.  Shining past the tangle of hoses, belts, and wires, I inspect the very bottom of the bilge. I’ve place absorbent mats in the bottom to soak up the random oil leaks that are part of life with this engine, so I look to see if there is more oil than usual, or any sign of water that could be the beginnings of a fitting failure.  I pour in the daily allotment of oil, and close the lid then move everything back into place. 

Lovie has managed to crawl out of her nightly cavern, and as always, already looks cute and chipper.  I tell her so, and she snorts in derision.  We manage somehow to both maneuver around the 6 square foot area(including the table), get our bowl of cereal eaten, teeth brushed, and sit down for a few minutes to read and start the day with at least one or two quiet thoughts…

Then, start the engine to warm up, and put in the earplugs.  Jimmies are noisy, as scores of deaf fishermen and loggers will tell you, and we really aren’t wanting to lose any more hearing than we have to.  Earplugs and yelling is the best option we have for now.

Turn on the radios, radar, computer/gps, and depth sounder.  Engage the hydraulic pump and anchor winch.  Crawl into the fish hold and shovel a light layer of ice on top of the fish in the brailer bags to start the day, and grab a shovel full of ice for the cooler in the galley.   Hoist yourself out, and go pull anchor.  Off to fish again.

About the cooler – we use an ice chest to keep perishables in up in the galley area, for convenience.  The ice melts at a rate of about 2 gallons a day, so it has to be drained and replaced daily.  The water gets drained into a gallon coffee can (plastic), walked all the way to the outside deck, and dumped over.  It takes at least two trips, then mop up the spillage, because you always spill a little somewhere.  Every other day, we remove everything and rearrange, because the water sloshes around and makes a mess if you don’t.  Another project for the future is a good icebox/refrigerator system…

The next bit, skip if you think it’s inappropriate, but – as I said, the Other side of life here, just a bit different…! 

No, we don’t have a flush potty.  There are numerous rules and regulations regarding sanitary facilities on marine vessels, and they are all very well intentioned and nice, if you can afford them.  The one head on this boat was removed by a previous owner, and I haven’t addressed the issue yet, so we do what 90 percent of the commercial fishermen do – use a loophole.  In the regulations, I mean.  Actually, we use a 5-gallon bucket with a rope attached so you don’t lose it over the side when cleaning it.     For all the regulations, you can still get by with a 5-gallon bucket with the intention of disposing of any waste in an appropriate manner.  Funny, but everyone’s buckets always come home nice and clean…  Comfort – not a newspaper and morning coffee sort of spot, but, things get taken care of, and the scenery is usually pretty good!  One of Lovie’s pet peeves, so I guess I’ll have to research the options for next year!  If we’re in harbor, there is the trip to a public restroom with all the joys of sanitation they usually hold, but at least you don’t have to worry about the floor moving around under you, and the seats are generally more comfortable than a bucket.  In the night, the old red coffee can does it’s duty, again a source of much discussion from my lovely wife…!

Moving on! 

As we head out to where we want to fish, we put on our gear.  The crocs have already been replaced by the calf-high ExtraTufs, the ubiquitous working footwear of Alaska.     They do their duty well, giving great grip on slippery decks, and keeping water from running thru your footwear, but wearing them 18-20 hours a day gets old.  The socks get that rubber-boot dampness, and you feel as if your feet are growing mold.  Part of the pre-bed routine is to remove socks and thoroughly wash the feet to prevent such problems, and besides, it feels really good to get warm water on them!

This may have to turn into a two-part post, since we haven’t even begun to discuss all the grossness issues! 

More tomorrow!