Commerical Fishing and Summer's End

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A break in the monotony of commercial fishing--our steering went out suddenly, yanking the boat to the left, before coming to a dead stop. The wheel had frozen, locked in place by who knows what.

Mom and I ran out and jumped in the cockpit to pull in the gear before the steel wires wrapped themselves around each other...or worst case scenario, the rudder. The lines hung straight down, weighted by sixty pound leads. Line after line came in, first the deep, then the floats, and I placed each lure in neat lines to be put out again later. They looked like Christmas decorations of red, yellow, and sliver.

We floated, helplessly, our 46-foot troller swaying in the trough, as dad raced around with a dim flashlight in one hand, trying to find the cause in the tangled engine room. Dad phoned a friend from Elfin Cove to come and tow us in to a cove.

Thirty minutes later, after our location had been confirmed via VHF, Steve arrived. A long rope was tied to our bow with the other end to Steve's stern. Slowly we made our way towards shore. Steve decided to pull us all the way into harbor, being that the weather was going to blow up to 15 and he didn't want us to worry about drifting if we anchored by ourselves away from town.

The plan was all well and good, I even took pictures as the sun set and we approached Elfin Cove, until Steve started to take us through a narrow gap.

Our boat swung to the left, like a water skier cutting the water. Only instead of more water we faced a rock wall. I stood in the bow with a buey, thinking that I could place it between boat and rock, but the boat skimmed by, rocks scraping the hull. Hemlock trees hanging over the water grabbed at our poles, bending parts and showering the deck with broken branches and needles. "shit, shit, shit!!!" I screamed, unable to stop the damage. It was like Titanic with the iceburg scraping by, destroying dreams.

We yelled at Steve, who was oblivious, and he slowed. The boats were pulled close and ours was nudged towards an empty piece of dock. I was conscious of all the attention we were getting in the harbor. Not much happens in a town like Elfin Cove, and our boat nearly sinking on its way into the harbor was certainly a front page event.

With the boat tied down and the engine off we all breathed easier. Steve waved goodbye and headed home, leaving us to assess the damage. In addition to the issue of our steering, we now have a scraped hull to examine. "This may be the event that makes dad decide to stop fishing," said mom. I grunted, not quite believing that dad would quit a 27-year fishing career, but I think that this could be the end of the summer.

From here I can hop the mail plane back to Juneau, then ferry to Haines, before the final twelve hour drive back to Fairbanks. I am undecided on when to leave. The monotony is taking its toll on my moral, and I miss home.

I hope to head back the end of the month. But we shall see, with recent events I may decide to stay and explore. Or we may head to Juneau for repairs. Tomorrow has many answers.

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Photos

Cleaned and Ready to Go
Ross and I posing with a bigger sized halibut. We get 4.50 a pound for large sized halibut--which is anything over fifty pounds.

On The Way In
Getting pulled by Steve--before we scraped bottom going through the gap.