Not with a Bang,…

And so, just like that – we are done for the coho season.

Late last week, while mulling over the low fish numbers and weather, it all came together – it’s time for us to go!  A combination of factors, both at home and on the fishing scene, suddenly all added up to tip us over the brink.  With only a week and a half to go till the closure, we forfeited some income, but probably not enough to make us wealthy.  Steve’s boat was terminally broken down at the time, effectively ending his season, so we leased ours to him for the balance of days so he could continue to fish.  The harbor department in Sitka called and told us our temporary slip was now out on the transient dock, which is not the best place to winter a boat.  As of now, the boat may winter in its’ old home, Elfin Cove, unless something more substantial turns up.  Not my favorite choice, but one of the only available.  It will make for difficulties in remodeling and working on the boat this winter should I choose to do so, but perhaps I can get it to better accommodations by spring. 

We made our plans one day, caught our last fish for our winter freezer stock, filleted them till midnight, vacuum packed them at Patti’s early the next morning, and were on the float plane to Juneau by 5pm.  Culture shock awaited with the bustle of Juneau, but we coped with running water, flush toilets, and an anchored-down big bed as best we could.  The ferry to Sitka left Sunday evening, and we spent the night in one of the staterooms, arriving at 4am in Sitka.  After a flurry of last-minute business and fish-box shuffling, we got the plane to Kalispell, and arrived home by midnight.  Now THAT’s culture shock!  Wide open spaces, dry air, lots more people, unfortunately…!  Now, catching up on all the loose ends that a season away brings – with it the depression of needing to find some form of income to carry us through till springtime.  I really don’t want to go sit in an office, dealing with petty problems for people who have no clue about what the real cutting edge of life really is.  Lotto tickets? may be the only answer!  I have few real problems that a half a million dollars wouldn’t make easier!

Our last day in the Cove was beautiful – warm (68!) and sunny.  We were of mixed emotions as we brought our stuff down to the front dock to await the float plane, but knew we were doing what needed to be done.  I will never forget the little group of folks that took time to come and wish us well as we left.  Two and a half months earlier we knew only one of them; now, a whole group of good friends. 

Quite a group.  Fashion is not an issue in this bunch.  Degrees, family names, cars; all those things that much of the country measures ability, status and success by – not an issue here.  Knowing how to fix just about anything with just about nothing, knowing how to read the weather, tides, currents – real mastery.  You could easily cast a pirate movie from the characters, just based on first impressions.  Dig a little deeper, and you find real gold.

I mean that, folks – thank you for making our first year not be the disaster it could have been! 

What have I learned this year?

• The ocean is big, powerful, scary, beautiful, bountiful, alluring, and I love it.
• I can get really, really scared.  I’m not the only one; most of the guys I met readily admit it.  But it really doesn’t have to paralyze me.
• Life is very very fragile; we have so little real power.  Treat every moment as a great gift.
• I can do this fishing thing – I started with basically no clue about trolling, underestimated my experience level on the sea, and all that – We survived this season at least, and actually didn’t go too far backwards on the income when all was said and done.  Next year!
• There are some really, really fine people around.  
• Dolands, Dennisons, Denherders, and other friends at Sitka; Nelsons at Petersburg – I love you folks.  You helped keep me going when things looked the bleakest.  I am forever indebted to you, and value your friendship.  You showed me what true hospitality, care, and support is all about.  I can only aspire to such a grand level in my dealings with others.
• Steve – Point Amelia,
• Kirk-Yager,
• Scotty-Myrth,
• John-Midnight Sun,
• Don & Patty-Umatilla,
• Todd-Admiral,
• John-Mug-C,
• Troy-Bonnie Jean,
• Connley-J-Jireh,
• Dan and Judy-St. Jude

– you all took me from borderline crazy to being a real fisherman.  Words are inadequate to describe you and what you mean to me.  Thanks for counting me among your ranks – I’m proud to have spent a season with you all.

• My wife – what can I say? Best cook, fish cleaner, boat driver, and and finest lady I’ve ever known.  Love you forever.

 

I can’t wait till next season!  I have so many things to do before it starts – I need desperately to come up with enough money to get things in order for a great next season.  I am so optimistic about how things could be if I only could get the boat to the state of preparedness it needs to be in.  The state where I could completely trust its ability to function all season without leaving us stranded in the middle of some seething, forsaken corner of the sea.  Guess my winter work is cut out for me, finding the source! 

If there’s any interest, I would be glad to show slides, tell stories, sing songs, and so forth – this kind of experience just can’t be shut in the corner of ones mind, but begs the telling.   Thanks for listening to my ramblings this year.

Fish On!

Rub A Dub Dub

Ready for another rousing high-seas adventure?  Everyone knows the story of Rub a Dub Dub, Three Men in a Tub, right?  One fine evening in Elfin Cove, one of the residents came by, recruiting able bodies to assist in lifting a skiff on to a floating work dock for winter storage.  Being a fellow of advanced years, he couldn’t quite manage the task by himself, so he set out to find enough power to do the job.  A couple of 25 year olds would have done nicely, but all he could scrape up was a collection of gents over 30 to do the job.  The Marines and their few good men…  this was a real collection.  Some of us piled into the skiff, which was tied to a large floating pallet he called a barge – a sinking collection of boards, styrofoam, and lines, powered by a small outboard.  Then Harv, the man in charge, and Kurt manned the barge, and off we went across the cove.  Lovie happened to snap this shot of the crew, just before the outboard died. 

As we were in the middle of the cove,  barbs of all sorts being flung at us from interested bystanders on their boats, we began to look (in vain) for oars.  Kurt luckily was able to get the thing going again, but not before we all volubly  wondered how far the onlookers would let us go before assisting, whether we could make it to Japan if the tides were right, how many fish we could catch with the gear at hand, who would get eaten first if we had to resort to desperate measures, and so forth.  A few minutes later, the float was reached, the boat lifted aboard, and all returned happily to their vessels.  Just a little snapshot of life on the fringes…!

We are back in for what seems to be a weekly happening – storms.  Predictions have 14 foot seas on the outside this evening and tomorrow, so much of the fleet is holed up.  We had a really good day last week, over 130 fish, then back to 40-50.  The size is noticeably larger, so overall poundage is staying up, as is the price.  We are going to try to  tough it out as long as fishing holds up, as we can make or break the season’s income in the next stretch of days.  We've decided to reassess things on the 15th, and if weather is going worse and the fish count down, we’ll head for Sitka a little early.  If the fishing is good, we’ll try to last for the final push – season may be extended through the end of the month is the rumor – I sort of hope that it isn’t, as home is starting to sound pretty good right now.  We’ll see. 

Fall is only a few days away technically, but the colors and temperatures are hinting at winter already.  There have been some beautiful days, and the fog has pretty much become a thing of the summer.  Some boats are leaving already, and others are just showing up for the last push,  and the Sound has really been crowded.  Last night was the big annual Christmas party over at the Shoreline Scow – it’s fame preceded the event, so we stayed as far away as possible.  Just heard that 3 guys are in critical condition, one may have died already – returning home to Pelican in the middle of the night in a skiff, they ran into a rock at high speed.  No more details yet, but it’s why I stay away from alcoholic parties involving boats and wild men.

Steve’s dad left on the float plane last week, and Scott from California became his new deckhand. 

The saga continues – he caught 250 fish in his little boat, almost swamped it – they pitched fish into the bunks up forward to keep it level in the building seas, then eased into Mite Cove to sell.  They anchored overnight, and as they left the next morning, the transmission seized up, again, just off Column Point.  Myrth towed them back to Elfin, yet another towing job for the little tub.  The exhaust leak that nearly did them in 2 days before recurred, and they found it in the process of pulling the tranny.  Looks like they almost have the engine pulled out over on their side of the dock, and will throw in the one off the Point Amelia.  Steve is glad for the stormy weather, it makes him feel better about taking time off from catching fish! 

One computer is  on the fritz, so hope I can continue to post things. 

Fish on!