It’s 1:45 AM and we just got in from a 1 AM set. We were sort of drowsy about getting out there because it looked like the buoys would still be dry at time to set. The tide book said there would be 6’ of water out at the mean low water mark. That probably means no water for us. When it’s 7’, we might be in knee deep water or waist deep, depending on the wind. But the tide book also said that the water would be rising from 6’ to 12’ at the mean low water mark in one hour; that means it’s coming in fast.
I was the first one out a few minutes after 1 and the water was not quite knee deep at the outside buoy and half way (150’) to the inside buoy. I could tell the current was fast because when I let go of the boat to find the various rings and carabiners and lines to hook up the net, the boat tried to leave and it was difficult to haul back. Chris arrived just as I finished the set up and we set that net. There’s a heavy cloud cover tonight so it was dark, making it hard for my imperfect eyes to find the inside buoy target. Chris could see it and we were successful.
By the time we were done, there was enough water to take the skiff over to the other nets to be sure they were doing OK. They were. Erik and Josh set the net out of the Grayling by hand and Erik ran the net out of the New Boat meeting Josh who was in increasingly deep water, holding the buoy. (Josh admonished me that if I’m going to set everyone at ease by saying that there’ll only be 6’ of water, I also must give the crucial information that it’ll be 12’ in an hour.) From the time I got out to the boat to the time we pushed the Grayling in and anchored it – about 30 minutes, the water had advanced about 900’ horizontally. That’s fast. I saw a couple of hits after we set the net, so we’ll go out 1 ½ hours before high water – at about 3 AM to clear the nets. The wind is picking up; that usually means fish if any are out there, which I think there are.
We went out again at about 3 AM and picked up 700 lbs, then back in till 6:30 when we got 400 lbs and beat the second highest record. For this season, we're now at 202,312. I still don't think it's over. The seiner that didn't come for our fish on that very windy tide two days ago came this morning, so I asked what happened. I was glad I did because they explained that even at the height of the tide, the four foot seas were greater than the water they draw, meaning that if they came out, their hull would slam against the bottom with every wave, endangering their boat, themselves, and anyone trying to deliver to them. The issue wasn't that it was too rough for them; the issue was that it was too rough and the water was too shallow. We get hammered if we go into shore in that weather because it slams us on the bottom - into rocks, body parts, or whatever happens to be there; similarly the seiners get hammered in deeper water because their boat sits deeper in the water to start with. I was so relieved to hear that - it felt bad to believe that the decision had been made to risk the lives and welfare of the setnetters to avoid all risk to the tenders. They said that although the weather report said we were in 25 MPH winds, they felt a lot stronger to them. To me too.
My brother harry had his knee surgery about a week ago and is coming back on Wednesday to finish up the drift boat's season after his friend Tony (who has been skippering the boat) has to leave. Harry also believes there are more fish to be caught -- and he really likes fishing the Kvichak which has had a much stronger return than expected.
The hard thing about sleeping in 45 minute to 2 hour increments is that you're still tired when you get up (wind in the face helps to remedy that once you're up and out there) so you have to drag yourself out of bed several times a day. I think it's hard enough to do that just once.
It's probably time to start thinking about home pack. I think I'll bring back about 700 lbs of reds plus the kings (though I will send some kings home with crew members who want them. Believe me - I won't be pushing them to take king home). In the past, I've brought back 1000 to 2000 lbs. I often use it in my Seattle work - cooking for focus groups and I smoke a lot of it. But this year having brought back 1000 lbs, I had about 300 lbs extra in May, leading to power-smoking so as not to waste any. So this year, I'll bring back a little less.
We just got the announcement that says we're open from 1:30 AM on the 14th until the end of the emergency order period. That means that the rivers have achieved their escapement, the resource is safe, and this year, the management has been successful. I'm imagining the Fish and Game biologists dusting off their hands, sitting back, putting up their feet and heaving a sigh of relief. Another one in the bag. That sequence will come for us in a week or so. Right now, we have to keep our grip and fish out the rest of the season. This change will mean that we won't have to get up as many times, not having to go out to set the nets. Instead, we'll fish the flood an hour or so before the tide turns, and then clean up on the ebb. It'll give us more continuous time to rest, do laundry, sweep, etc.
Trina qualified for hazardous duty pay today. Josh suggested that Trina, Bob, and I stay in this tide because he remembered that I have an (overdue) report to deliver and that Trina had some business to complete for her diving lodge in Micronesia, and Bob always has things to improve around here. Running a restaurant as part of her lodge, Trina thought that the first order of business was protection of our health and so set about doing dishes and cleaning out my tundra-ator. That's my Naknek-style refrigerator. It's a hole in the floor with a handle and hinges. I've upgraded it by adding a plastic tub to put the things in that deteriorate sitting in tundra water, no matter how cold. That would be butter, milk, eggs, vegetables. Things in jars or waterproof containers can stand in the water outside the plastic tub. But earlier in the season when I made the pavlova for my birthday, I saved the yolks, thinking about chocolate chip orange cake later on, but we started fishing so much, those yolks just festered in the tub. Festered and spilled. Today was the day to address that. Hence the hazardous duty pay. I think the folks at home can testify that this is pretty much my effect on refrigerators in general. Sorry!
PM tide fetched 1776 lbs for a new total of 204,088. I've made a new cell in the spreadsheet that's the difference between the highest year (2008) of 228,881 and our current catch. (Me? Competitive?) We have 24,793 to go. Is it feasible? I looked back at previous catch records and found that after the 13th of July we caught:
34,933 lbs in 2007;
20,774 lbs in 2008;
12,561 lbs in 2009.
Going back a little further, in 2005, we got 25,227 after the 13th and even in 2006, our disaster year when we skipped three tides after the 13th to recover from our disaster, we caught more than 9,088 but could sell only that many. I'd say we have a decent chance. And it is reputed to be a late season this year.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
This was an interesting night set not for its mistakes, but for its potential hazards and the solid performance of everyone involved. While Liz and Chris were prepping their site for a walking set, Josh and I were slogging through water toward the inside buoy of site #3.
I had waked later than usual (with about 15 minutes until we needed to be on the beach), in anticipation of low-enough water that Josh and I would have to wait for a short while at the Grayling before we could begin to push it. As we geared up, Josh informed me that the water would be rising six feet! in an hour.
From the top of the cliff we could see water had already reached the inside buoys - not an encouraging sign. We began to move faster, hitting the beach and racing through the mud about as fast as I can go without winding myself. We reached water between the inside and outside sites and began to slog our way to the Grayling. The water was waist deep by the time we set and still thigh deep on the inside buoy. I have poor night-vision without my glasses, and Josh had to guide us to the buoy. I only saw it when I rounded the Grayling at the end of the net to go get it.
With the water already as deep as it was, my thoughts were on the next site, which would require precise action to set on the first pass. Josh drove me to the New Boat. Once aboard, he raced off to find the inside buoy and anchor the Grayling.
I quickly pulled my way up to the buoy to which the New Boat was connected, unclipped the bow line, and brought the buoys to the back of the boat. After that I connected the net. It had been properly stacked, thank god. With my left hand holding the net to prevent it falling out the back of the boat prematurely - the current was insistently pulling at it all the while - I used my right to lower the prop and start the motor.
I had not turned a light on during this process for fear that I would be unable to see Josh holding the other buoy 300' away in the dark. Unfortunately, I couldn't see him in any case; rather, there were two blurs in the distance, one of which had a light (and was Liz in the Ambi, I was sure), the other of which I thought might be the Grayling.
I presumed that Josh would be up-current with respect to Liz, and began motoring steeply upcurrent, letting the wind blow the bow back incrementally as I got further along. Surprisingly, the blur that I had thought was the Grayling turned out to be Josh, holding one arm high in the air. It had been a near-perfect set.
A miss in the dark with only four people to fix the net would have been difficult to correct, and I still chuckle when I think about how well it went despite the possible problems.
This is Josh, bear with me as I am typing left handed. So to add to Erik's comment. The tide rising 6' in an hour, is a foot and a half every 15 minutes. An average set will take 5-10 minutes if everything goes off without a hitch. Erik and I got out to the Grayling when the water was about to our thigh height. So about 2 & 1/2' of water.
The visibility was about 100-150'. There is a trick to spotting things in the water when it's dark. You look for something that doesn't roll with the current, and hope for splashes or color that's just barely off. The best way I know to describe it is a trick of the eye. When you look around and thought you saw something and then dismiss it as an overactive imagination, that's when you focus really hard on that spot.
I knew Erik wasn't able to see well, but being one handed makes it really difficult for me to be able to hook the net up and drive. It's amazing how much this whole experience has made me appreciate the utility and how much we take for granted having 2 hands. But I digress. So Erik being mostly blind but 2 handed was the better choice for driving the second set.
After I dropped him off from the Grayling I sped off to where I hoped the inside buoy was. I motored towards it, killed the engine, put the prop up so it couldn't smash into the ground in any waves, ran to the front, grabbed the anchor and lobbed it over the side. Jumped out of the boat, waded over to the buoy in waist deep water, probably 3 1/2' of water, and raised my Saran Wrap-ped hand like a beacon and hoped the dim light would reflect off of its shiny wrapping, or that it would turn me into a more visible object. It worked, the set went perfectly, and we live to tell another day’s tale.
~Capt. Jarshua Parker
Post a Comment