One way tack to Yakutat

If you want the definition of the middle of nowhere just google-map Yakutat, AK. Granted you could google-map Pelican, AK and it would be an even smaller blip but I was holed up there for two hours not two days. Basically it is a real long haul from Sitka but if the weather would just cooperate for a few days there are apparently a few fish to be had up here. As it is however we are just tied up to the city dock waiting for a break in the storm.

The last few days in Sitka I lived up as if they were my last. With gusto I ate, drank, collected phone numbers, and passed out goodbyes to the few souls I had met there and wished I could have more time to seal the bonds of friendship with. Now it seems I will probably be back in Sitka in a week or so, and I am not looking forward to an uncomfortable second round of farewells. As unpredictable as this fishing life is, nothing, besides the commandments handed down from ADF&G, is definitive.

As a revised plan for the end of the season it looks as though Ron is going to fly me back to Washington ahead of him as his wife, Nina, will be joining him on the way home. As beautiful as the Inside Passage is I hope that this plan pans out. First it would simplify the arrangements I have with my dad for our reunion in Seattle, and also because I am beginning to grow a little restless as the summer winds down. When I am not busy fishing, cleaning, or cooking I find myself falling into some pretty atrocious moods that those of you who know me well are glad you are not in Ron's place as he is the only focus for my storms of discontent. I assured him it was not personal. Nevertheless I am ready to shed the closed quarters of the ODB (Ocean Dancer Boat, my nickname) for the open and seemingly endless road down the Pacific coast.

In literature I have waded into the Russian misery and suffering that is the writing of Chekhov. From my somewhat stilted pursuit of Russian short stories I gather that this is basically the state of things in Russia: misery and suffering. It as almost as though the renaissance made no discernible inroads into that eastern expanse and they are still toiling away in some medieval hell hole. Needless to say Chekhov does nothing for my brooding mood.

I know I sort of led on that I had some incredible things to say about my the days working up to my last post, but in retrospect it was nothing that needs describing here. It usually takes the perspective of a few days to sort out what is and isn't going to go in here. Fortunately as the master of my own little history here I can edit to my hearts content. Sort of empowering.

if wishes were fishes...

More photos as promised.


Up above here is a shot of a troller tied up to the dock at SPC where we unload our fish and at left is a shot of that boat as they pull a load of fish out of the hold with one of those yellow cranes you see above. For those of you wondering that it is how we get the fish out of the hold. After we do that we move the boat down to other end of the dock to load up on ice with the chute you see below.

Despite the fleets best efforts, we trollers are just not catching as many fish as most would like. Our boat is actually doing better than most so I can't complain about my paychecks, but it seems the Salmon are just not here this year in the numbers that can sustain much more fishing. This might result in only one more week of fishing if the things don't improve. As of right now they have shut us down for five more days and we will see what it looks like after that. Apparently September can bring in a lot of fish. The problem seems to be a really dry year they had a few years ago which when figuring in the three year life cycle for Coho's could explain the lack of Salmon running this year.

This could be a bitter sweet ending to the summer for me. On one hand I am anxious to meet up with my father, begin the journey south, get back to the Bay, and go on from there, but on the other I am really enjoying the fishing life up here and I could use another couple good catches to keep my travels up a bit longer. The fact remains that I will eventually need to get another real job and start pursuing some career, but to delay this as long as possible is the game I am playing right now. Hopefully I can make it through January before the gig is up. After that it seems some major life decisions loom before me, but there is no need to delve into that quagmire just yet.

On the way back into Sitka, I began reading To the Lighthouse. Virginia Woolf is quite a change from Hemingway and at this point a much needed one. Hemingway romanticizes a sort of manliness that makes for good storytelling but unfortunately at the expense of objectifying women to a point which is downright offensive as Alex more or less put it. In her role as a major figure in the women's movements of the 20th century Woolf provides a sort of antidote to this chauvinism. The radical difference in style comes at a good time as well, as although the manic pace at which you can devour Hemingway is exhilarating the come down after his abrupt and rather tragic endings was beginning to wear me down emotionally. With Woolf I feel I can take my time and get to know the characters more intimately than Hemingway would ever allow. The range of emotions Woolf lays out for the reader tends to reflect more accurately the ups and downs of human relations than Hemingway's stoic heroes. More true to life and in many ways more therapeutic for me at this time in my life. Sorry to bore you folks not into my literary criticism, but its on my mind so in the blog it goes. There is only so much talk of fishing I can sustain.

One facet of this fishing life that leaves something to be desired as the near impossibility of making a date. Sure I have a few days off here and there that I could probably sneak an evening with a girl in town, but as my luck would have it I fell for a female deckhand. As she is not on a troller the chances of us tying up in Sitka at the same time are slim to none. The isolation of life at sea is as beautiful and romantic (as well as gritty and exhausting) if not more so than I ever imagined, but leaves at least a few things to be desired. I knew this would be the case but it is always a shame to see a potentially good thing pass you by. I suppose some things are made even more sweet in that flirting transience in which the sheer impossibility is perhaps better than what the outcome would be if circumstances allowed. In short-it's nice to have a crush.

Now for Pete who claims he never reads my blog, which is just wrong with all the time he spends on the computer at work, I promised something just for him, although those of you who know Pete will probably appreciate this.
Knifey-spooney anyone? This is what I use to clean fish. I keep the blade as sharp as possible to make my job easier. With the knife end I cut out the gills, slice the fish up the belly, and cut around the membrane separating the guts from the neck. After ripping out the guts and tossing them overboard for the gulls I flip the thing around and use the spoon to scrape out the membrane covering the flesh away and then the kidney that runs along the backbone. I can clean a Coho in abut 45 seconds. This is no record but a far cry better than the 2 minutes it took me a month ago. A shame they should cut me off when I am just getting the hang of it.

This blog would not be complete without a bit of moaning and groaning. So here goes. On the first day out last time the stove broke. This particular one here. Please note the impeccable cleanliness of it as I just scrubbed that thing like it had never been scrubbed before.

It had some issues before we left town, but Ron had thought the problem fixed. Unfortunately this was not the case and we were left with only a hot plate to cook on for our ten plus days at sea. Now a hot plate is always annoying to cook on and as I have been spoilt with fine gas burning four banger ranges for the last several years, and I had just gotten used to cooking on a diesel stove this was a real pain in the ass. It probably would not have even been so bad if not for the fact that it seriously interfered with my daily caffeine intake. I know it is probably not too great to depend on coffee for my mental well being, but I swear I wouldn't need it if I wasn't working ten plus hours a day. As it is however, woe to the man or beast who stands in the way of me and my morning cup.

As it is we have a couple more days in town due to the closure and now some inclement weather. I have not made it out much this time as we have got some issues with the boat that Ron needs my hand with and the time had come for me to clean the decks again, which involves a couple hours of serious scrubbing. Now it is the weekend here so I suppose I will go out and mingle with the bar crowd a bit (at that bar over there). I have managed a few acquaintances in town now so that I have some folks to shoot the shit with. I am beginning, however, to get more than a little desperate for the company of my friends. There is really only so much companionship that you can get over the telephone, but damn if I haven't tried.

I could go on but I won't. My time here is growing short so if any of you people out there have any specific information you want to know about salmon trolling in southeastern Alaska, now is your time to pry me for information. I plan to get a few more pictures up here before I post this, but with the incessant rain we have been having I am not sure the camera will make it out of the bag.


Well I did so here up above here is a photo of my office if you were wondering what it looked like on my end. I know it is not exactly the executive sweet but the view ain't half bad.There have been some interesting developments and occurrences in the time spanning the rough draft for this one and the actual posting, so this is not exactly current anymore. I don't have the time or energy to catch up right now but check back in a couple weeks and I hope to have some fresh grain for the rumor mill.

Still in Sitka

Well once again Ron's projected departure date leaves a little something to be desired in the way of accuracy and I find myself in Sitka with more time on my hands then I know what to do with. Having exhausted my rather meager list of phone contacts, but still yearning for some conversation I resign myself to the one sided blog banter.

So far this time off in Sitka has been in many ways a blessing and a curse. On the positive tip I made some friends when I bought a couple of underage deck hands a case of beer. They were both only shy a couple of weeks and it just didn't seem fair to deprive them of a little release as they had both just spent more than 20 days out at sea. Anyway there names were Cody and Kayla and they were both up from Port Angeles where Ron is from as well. We spent the evening on the rocks down in the harbor each of us going off in turn about our good and bad experiences with our respective skippers. In light of those two I had very little to bitch about.

Yesterday I rented a bike. I broke down and took out exactly the kind of bike I loathe, but it was a hell f a lot better than nothing. I rode up a gravel to the nether regions of Harbor Mountain just outside of town. It was a little more than 5 miles with a gain of about 2,000 feet, and my lack of time in he saddle was made quite clear. The views would have been killer if I hadn't been riding through a cloud the last 1000 feet or so. Despite the way up the way down was incredible. I moaned about the front suspension when I took the bike out, but flying down dirt and gravel roads at 20+ mph I was thankful. Needless to say I was thoroughly spent by the time I returned the bike to the shop. I thanked them for the opportunity to torture myself for a couple hours.

After falling asleep at 8 p.m. I rose early this morning and treated myself to a large breakfast at Victoria's, a pretty decent little breakfast nook in town. I eyed the eggs benedict but for some reason I just can't justify eating that much hollandaise sauce any more. Maybe I don't even like eggs benedict anymore. Following breakfast I spent a couple hours at the Backdoor coffee shop I have grown to love both for its coffee and the girls who serve it. I wrote some letters and took care of some bills that needed my attention. I still am not over the joy I get from not cutting a check to a landlord every month.

On the negative side I find that I am now happier at sea than on land. Perhaps in Sitka surrounded by people I am reminded of all those I miss and will not see again for many months. While on the boat this reminder is removed and I am occupied with the bushiness of catching fish. Still on the boat I spent most of the day wrapped in my own thoughts, but there I think more toward the future than what is lost to the past.

I have made the successful switch back to fiction and began Hemingwy's A Farewell to Arms. Several have old me that it was not there favorite of his many works, but I am going to give it a whirl regardless. I also picked To the Lighthouse on Alex's suggestion, and ordered Seize the Day by Saul Bellows on a tip from my friend Leslie Schaffer back in Texas.

Ron has us set to leave at three this afternoon. We will see.

A moment of respite

So due to a shortage of salmon they have temporarily closed the season for a few days and so
I have a few days in Sitka to relax. I did manage to land the one above before they cut us off. Sorry the last post was only and update from my subconscious but I had a couple of friends in town and didn't have time for a complete update.

So as I mentioned my friends, Dave and Julia, were in Sitka. Through a stroke of luck they just so happened to stop in Sitka during their Alaskan vacation on one of my few days in town. We only had the better part of an afternoon and evening together but we made the most of it and ate and drank well out of all of our budgets. It sure was good to be amongst the company of good friends if only only for a short time.

Now I have two trips out to sea to cover. The week before my last stop in Sitka has been one of our best so far as we averaged over a hundred fish a day. Not as good as it could be but in light of the previous weeks not all that bad. The last trip out was short due to bad weather and the season closure but we made out with a few fish. Last time in town Nina, Ron's wife, flew into town and she came out with us he last few days. She brought a long a host of political mags and the New Yorker, which I read instead of fiction. I have decided it is impossible to be both well informed and well read. Call me an escapist but I think I will stick to fiction. The real world is just too much. I did manage to read Leaves of Grass, and I will agree with you Alex. It was one of the best pieces of literature I have read. More than anything else it inspired a little belief in the skeptic.

Now for lack of words I will bombard you with pictures. They stretch back a month or so.

















First my left hand that I was moaning about. It's not pretty folks. Below is a moon rising over the Fair Weather Grounds where we caught many a King Salmon late into the evening. Not easy to get a night shot on a rocking boat.

Stretching way back here is a shot of the reservoir above the damn on the Elwha River in Olympic National Park. the damn is one of the many reasons for Washington's decline in Salmon spawning grounds.





Damn formatting is impossible without using HTML! Anyway here is Dave and I in the hold where I put the fish. Foolishly I did not get Dave and Julia together.I will conclude with a shot of the port side of the boat coming out of Icy Strait . We are heading to the North and off to the east is Glacier Bay and the magnificent mountains and glaciers that make up Glacier National Park. The setting sun precluded shots of the glaciers unfortunately.I am going to make the rounds on the telephone tonight so if you are reading this make sure and turn the damn thing on and keep it charged or you are going to miss one of the rare opportunities to hear the the sweet sounds of my voice. Until next time then.

i had this dream

I was eploring this beach and as it grew dark the rocks turned to massive and soft pillows and I buried myself into them and slept. Later in the dream I awoke (still dreaming but dreaming i've awoken)and the pillows had changed into thousands of golden retreiver puppies and they were licking my neck and the tickling sensation was bordeline painful. Like when you are a kid and someone really lays into you and it is just torture. The senastion was so intense I awoke (for real this time) and there were mosquitos biting my neck.

The boat I am on was cruising through the desert on a sort of water highway 10. We passed countless huge families floating along eating watermelon at long floating tables . We got stuck in trffic and for someone reason I grabed a fish and jumped off the boat. I ran down the sidewalk while cleaning the fish. I passed a crowded intersection and looked back an the boat was gone and I was stuck in the heat with the fish.