Same Old Song

Somewhere down the dock, Neil Young’s harmonica is crying, and the faint words drift down to me -- “that keeps me searchin' for a heart of gold; and I’m getting old….”  I hum along to the classic tune, and it really seems to fit – still searching, but getting old.  Today, we are tired.  After a good run of fishing, with a few adventures thrown in, here we are again, with another setback.  Back at Elfin Cove after 5 days out, we are missing the last 2 days before the closure due to a steering system failure.  It’s getting old.

The days since last post seem all a blur.  We went back out on Friday, and travelled South as far as lower Surge Bay.  The storm that put us in port had left a big swell from the west, which worked with the 20 knot wind and tide to make the face a bone-crunching, mind-numbing non-stop roller coaster for 12 hours.  We left the Cove at 4:30 am, and by the time we rounded Cape Bingham, I knew the day would be long.  Locking my legs under the side of the pit, I was able to keep enough balance to set gear.  The action of a double-ended boat (pointy on both ends) like True North can get a bit tricky at times, and I often had to pull the line back up, untangle the gear, and re-attach it. 

It was Carmyn Gamma’s wedding day, and we sorely missed being with our friends to celebrate the occasion.  I just thought of Orin and Sarai in Korea, and Lovie and I had a little pity party thinking about scattered family.  Carmyn has been like one of our own kids for most of her life, and it just didn’t seem right to be missing the event.  Best of life to you, Carmyn and Dustin.  The fishing stunk.  Should have done the wedding instead.

After spending the night at Soapstone Cove, we poked our bow around the corner again.  Weather was a little better, but fishing was still slow.  The humpy count is way up, and they are hard to keep off the hooks.  The price is a bit better than last year, so they do add up, but the stinky things are just irritating.  We plied boringly up and down the coast, cleaning gear routinely, slowly and steadily getting a few fish.  Someone came on the radio and told us that Andy had a whale surface under his stern, and his prop cut several chunks out – the tail was wider than his boat beam, about 13 feet wide.  I hear his hair has turned a bit white in places!

That evening, we went into Hoktaheen about 7:30.   There is a northern entrance, thru a scattering of rocks and islands, that they call the “Back Door”.  We’ve never been in that way, but it looks pretty obvious on the charts.  We were right near the mouth, so we told Connley we were going to try.  We headed in, carefully watching our little blip on the chart plotter.  Looking ahead, I began to see massive amounts of kelp all around.  The agitation and surge of the waves tossed the boat around in unpredictable motion, as I tried to focus on the chart and make sense of what I was seeing.  I chose a path to evade kelp – the huge, bulbous stringers hang up on our stabilizers and cause immense amounts of drag, inhibiting maneuverability.   I became increasingly nervous, as the rocks on both sides became only feet away – something just wasn’t right.  I made an immediate decision to evacuate the area, and put the boat into reverse.  Tide, waves, and kelp all attempted to push us onto the rocks, but the prop finally overcame and we slowly moved backwards.  When I had enough clearance, I pivoted the boat around and dragged about 5000 pounds of kelp back out the way we had come in.  I got clear of the area, pulled the stabies in, and cut the kelp away.  We then went back out to sea, down the coast, and entered the cove on the path we had marked as safe.  Looking at the plot of where we had gone was scary – I was heading down a dead-end channel, which only had rocks just below the surface.  I still shake thinking about it.  Next morning, Kirk led me out of the harbor in the way I should have gone, and we plotted it so we can find it if we come in that way again.

Troy on the Bonnie Jean had set his massive anchor, put out lots of scope, and invited several of us to raft up with him.  One by one we came, until we had 4 boats; ours the shortest at 34 feet, his the largest at 48 feet, all tied up hanging on one anchor.  The Jager had the barbecue grill on, and the hot dogs were cooking.  Connley had fresh bread, ice cream; Lovie made a 7-bean salad, Troy had drinks and all the goodies for the dogs, and we had a fishing boat picnic.  The sunset was awesome, the camaraderie was great – sitting in the 50 degree evening, gently lifting and falling on anchor, motor noise ceased, we had a good time before going to bed.  Miles from nowhere, edge of the world;  makes it all seem ok for a bit.

Sunday, we usually like to spend the mornings quiet; this one didn’t get a chance.  Connley started out at 4:30, so we followed in an hour.  Once again, up, down, over and over, for a few fish.  Long days, tiring work.  We went back to Hoktaheen, and anchored again with Troy and Kirk.  Poor Kirk – Jason, his son, was pulling gear for the first time alone, and got the wire from one set of gurdies looped over the other gurdy without realizing it.  He wound things up so tight that it ruined several parts, and took Kirk about 3 hours to get the wire all removed from the shaft and spliced back together again.  Not a good day for the Jager.  

There are the unexpected happenings though – radio chatter can be quite interesting.   “Scotty, you got a camera on board?”  “Yeah, why?”  “Slide up close to the DeathTrap(a boat – whole story in itself…) and look at his trolling pole.  There’s a squirrel on the end of it!”  Guess the poor thing climbed aboard trying to evade a cat back at Elfin Cove, and rode out to sea.  The boat just came back in today – don’t know the fate of the stowaway.

We tied up again late Sunday evening to the Bonnie Jean in Hoktaheen, along with the Jager.  It was 10:30 before we got done with supper (freshest fish around!), so the bunk felt pretty welcome.  Up again at 5:30, ready to go.  It was a beautiful morning – scattered clouds, no wind, low tide movement, waves almost flat calm, just a little 2 foot swell.  We were the first to cast off, but Troy and Kirk were getting ready to follow.  Poles down, stabies in, we worked our way thru the rocky entrance and past the surf line.  About a quarter of a mile past the entrance, I noticed that the boat had developed a significant list to starboard.  My first thought was that our fuel tanks hadn’t equalized, and that there was too much load on the one side.  Looking back, I saw the port stabilizer had snagged a huge kelp monster, and was dragging right up against the boat.  I slowed, put the boat out of gear, and hauled the stabie up to the side to slash the mass away.  Back in the water it went, and we moved forward again.  I turned the wheel to correct the course, and got no response.  I tried the other way, same story.  I used the autopilot to see if it was the wheel malfunctioning; no response.   I went back to the stern steering station, and it became obvious that something was haywire.  I leaned over and could see the rudder – changes in the wheel made no difference.  Pulling up the plate that covers the steering ram in the pit, it was clear that there was a hydraulic leak of some sort.  Further investigation revealed a hose completely worn in two where it passed thru the deck of the pit, tucked away in an obscure corner that eluded detection.  After having replaced so many things on the boat this year, we had to stop somewhere.  Near the top on next year’s to-do list – you guessed it!  Replace all steering lines!  Well, guess that one got escalated.

We were so fortunate.  We had cleared the rocks at Hoktaheen, and were still able to head offshore.  The calm conditions made working upside down in the rudder area a bit more tolerable, and the boat was drifting slowly parallel to the shore near the drag about 20 other fishermen were working.  A call on the radio brought numerous responses with offers of a tow, parts, advice, instructions about how to steer using stabilizers, etc.  Last year, I foresaw the possibility of steering system failure and made an emergency tiller that would allow me to hand steer the boat under such circumstances.  We dug it out, put it on, and tried it out.  A bit different than usual, and not one I’d like to use for heavy tide or weather, but it worked.  We moved a bit more offshore to give plenty of drifting leeway, and I tried to repair the break.  Hose clamps and a double-ended hose barb did the job, and the unit was re-assembled.  The fittings all reside under the floor of the pit, which gets a regular dousing when the boat is being worked.  Though wrapped in protective PetroTape, water and time take their toll, and I had long been suspicious of the condition of the hose fittings.  When I got the repair back in place, I tried the rear wheel.  It was spongy as expected from air infiltration, but worse yet, I heard the distinct sound of splurping hydraulic fluid from a different, more inaccessible location.  The movement of working with the hoses had caused another fitting to fail completely, breaking off clean with no effort at all.  I got the message -- “Go back to the Cove and fix this!”   We didn’t tempt fate, but had a nice, hand-tillered 3 hour cruise back up around Cape Bingham and in to Elfin Cove.  I’ve pulled the whole apparatus out, and will order parts today if I can find a credit card with anything left on it!  

Guess our closure started early.  Kirk came in, loaded to the waterline with his best day in a long, long time.  He had 3 sperm whales feeding around his boat, a bit nerve-wracking given their size, and the size of their teeth!  Em and Todd come on Saturday – we hope to be ready for the 3-day king opener that starts on Monday – luckily we get 2 extra deckhands for all the work! 

Like they warn me – don’t ask what more could go wrong because you’ll probably find out!  We’re just going with the flow here, take each test as it comes.  Can’t think too far ahead, or I could get a bit overwhelmed.  Sometimes I look forward to sitting by the fire with a good book, patting old Willie the pup while a snowstorm howls outside, sipping on my tea and snuggling up to my wife.  Guess that’s not for now, though, so we persevere. 

Life’s good.  Stay tuned – we’re “Searching for that Heart of Gold..!”