Bristol Bay Log

Before heading north I spent one last, sweet weekend in Deadwood with The Woman I Love. To lighten the mood and amuse her I began reciting the names of various boats I had encountered in the Bay. The list included….Ratso, Stubby, Big Nose Kate, My Wife, Your Wife, White Cane (the skipper was blind),Candide, Esculent, Skagerrak, Toonces, Three Sons, Thatsa My Boat, Beer Bottle Mama, Early Set, Just in Time, Mommy Mist, Macho Man, Red Alert, Yodel Lady……

Rolf and I were hanging out in the cabin of the Questar …resting from our labors after a long day in the boat yard….The subject of grizzly bears came up, as it often does in Alaska. They are named Ursus Horribilis for a very good reason. They are plenty dangerous under the wrong circumstances. Of course, I had to tell my story about a skipper I knew who survived a grizzly mauling and was later killed by the most dangerous animal in Alaska. I met Grizzly Bill when I was fishing out of S. Naknek at The Flintstones. He lived in the bush up on Lake Iliamna. He fished the Bay in the summer and was a hunting guide and trapper the rest of the year. A grizzly had gotten the jump on him and chewed him up pretty bad. Bill said that at one point the bear had a grip of his head and shook him like he was ringing a bell. He could feel the grizz’s teeth scrape on his skull. Eventually the bear got bored, dropped him and wandered off. When they put Bill’s face back together it came out a little lopsided and the sutures looked like they were made with a speedy stitcher. Bill was a good natured guy and told the story with a laugh…as though the bear had played a big joke on him..No hard feelings…..That was in 1978. When I came back to the fish camp in 1982…Bill didn’t show. I asked around…where was Bill?…It turns out Bill was something of a romantic and had won the heart of a lady up Iliamna way. Unfortunately the lady was already spoken for. Her jealous husband tracked Bill down and stabbed him to death in a bar up Iliamna way. That, gentle reader, is my story of the most dangerous animal in Alaska……

Rolf and I were lounging around the cabin of the Questar last night…drinking Kona coffee sent to me by the Woman I Love….and talking story. We got on the subject of fishermen and their endless superstitions. For instance…you never bring a suitcase on a fishing boat, or a house plant…and whatever you do …..never ever bring Bananas. Now Big Ron was a gentle, calm man. +6 foot tall and 275 lbs. He started commercial fishing when he was 16 years…he was over 50 when he worked with me…one of the most experienced and best watermen on the west coast. He would fly into a rage if he found a banana on the boat. It was bad luck…no one could say why..it just was…Sometimes a prankster in our radio group would hide a bunch of bananas on the Sierra…just to watch him explode. When he came upon the offending fruit he would howl like an enraged walrus. The prankster and his cohorts would watch the show from what they hoped was a safe distance….

Looking back on that first entry in my log in 1979. I was struck by how green and ignorant and lucky I was. When I wandered onto Dead Man Sands I was like a little chipmunk playing in the mouth of a grizzly bear. The Sands got it’s name the old fashioned way….It killed a lot of men over the years. There was a storm in 1948…. real screamer out of the S.E., on a +20 foot rising tide…The tidal bore drove boats onto the sands, swamped boats and rolled them in the surf. There were no survival suits, no radios…and no one to call for help even if you had a radio…in those days. Ten men died in that blow. I know this because I talked to a survivor…he was the winter watchman at the old Bumblebee cannery in S. Naknek. He was 18 years old when he rode out that storm. In those days, and right up till 1951 they fished in 25 foot open sailboats…Columbia River doublenders…for power they had oars and a spirit sail….no hydraulics of course…they pulled the net by hand…two men to a sailboat…a skipper and a crewman…he was called the puller…You learned the trade serving with an old-timer. There are some really tough guys who fish the Bay and a lot of young guys like me who thought they were pretty tough. I reckon that the gold standard to measure yourself against is Sailboat Tough….

Arrived Dlg on May 09. Rolf was there to meet me at the airfield. Big Pink made it as well..although a little worse for wear…the zipper blew out and the seams were leaking…miraculously nothing was lost. A couple hours later I was in the engine room of the Questar wrestling hydraulic hoses. Being as how I was a little dozy from jet lag…I managed to pinch my thumb and raise an impressive blood blister under the nail. About midnight bedded down in the fo’csle..I woke up a couple hours later in the freezing dark..with my thumb throbbing…I pressed on it till the blister
burst..ah sweet relief…I woke up with a bloody thumb. Welcome back to the Bay.

During my first few seasons in the Bay I traveled with an old olive drab U.S.Army duffel bag left over from my dad’s 23 years in the service. It was big and roomy and I felt it brought me luck having something of my Dad’s with me. The problem was it was near invisible in the King Salmon airport. Imagine 80 to 100 cannery workers and fishermen milling around the baggage area…..out rolls a cart loaded with 80 to 100 green and blue duffel bags……Eventually I gave Big Green an honorable discharge and went shopping. The result was a huge bag ….simple and sleek with stout handles…made of some indestructible material….with a super heavy full-length zipper….Best of all…..it was a cheerful salmon pink color…with black carrying straps..very classy…..you could convert it into a giant backpack. And in a pinch you could sleep in it…a bivvy sack. Needless to say Big Pink always stood out from the crowd….and no cannery worker or fisherman ever mistook her for theirs….I still carry something of my Dad’s…When Dad joined the U.S.Army in 1938 he was issued a heavy, wide,leather garrison belt with a solid brass buckle….He gave that belt to me when I was around 5 years old. .Or maybe I just took possession of it….I always wore it fishing…it is holding up my pants right now…I feel it brings me luck to have something of my Dad’s with me.

”May 26….In Mud Bay after a very active week. Two major fishing periods. The first one, I set off of Metervik. Very confused, night fishing. Too much gear in the water. Got very bad web in the wheel and missed fishing time. Finally freed the prop after +12 hours of cutting….luckily there was no apparent damage to the transmission. Second opening was made off Rocky Point. Few fish. Total poundage for herring season is disappointing but the price paid by the Japanese is very good. Made approx $7500. Last nite wind came up out of the S.E. around midnite on a rising tide, boats began dragging anchor. We were secure but forced to move because of drifting boats. A real struggle to gain a hold on the beach under a small bluff. Winds gusting to 100k, difficult to see because of blown spray. Today the wind is still up , blowing @ 30-40k. The pack ice has moved north of Round Island… we are cut off from the rest of Bristol Bay…. ”

May 05…..Deadwood…..I am packing Big Pink and getting ready to head north for another salmon season in the Bay. I’ll be in Dillingham on May 09. I am going to crew for my friend Rolf on his 32 ft. gillnetter, the F/V Questar. I’ve known Rolf for 30 years. We met during the 1981 Togiak herring season. We were both involved in a joint venture with a fishermen’s co-op out of Hokkaido. We delivered to the same tender ( Sumioshi Maru #1) from the pumpkin fleet. From 1982 to 1998 we ran in the same radio group. I got to know him well….when we weren’t fishing we would often tie up together…and play endless rounds of Trivial Pursuit….During the 1984 herring season …about 10 boats from our radio group were anchored up in Mud Bay from May 7 to May 16 waiting out a storm while waiting for the herring biomass to show….it blew a steady 30-35 knots, gusting to +55 knots…..we played around the clock for 4 days….eventually we invented a rule ….If you picked up a card you had already seen…you picked another….I once went thru six cards till i found one I hadn’t seen before. Now that really isn’t much of storm by Bering Sea standards…On May 26, 1982 , we were all anchored in Mud Bay. About midnight the wind came up out of the S.E…it was gusting to 100 knots when the wind gauge on the tender blew away….there were 90 knot williwaws blowing straight down onto the water….this was on a +20 foot rising tide so of course we all started dragging anchor….it was a real goat show in the dark….by first light the winds had calmed down to 30-40 knots…what a relief….now that was a storm…..

I borrowed this term from Melville. It describes the quotations he cites at the beginning of Moby Dick. They are in the literary tradition of the Commonplace Book which was very popular in the 19th century….I have my own modest collection of such literary references….

“No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned…..A man in
a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company” Dr. Samuel Johnson

“If shit were gold…fishermen would be born without assholes.” Portuguese proverb

“Que sais-je?” Montaigne

“There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled,and wrought, and thought
with me-
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end
Some work of noble note, may yet be done…..” Tennyson, Ulysses

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago-never mind how long precisely-having little or no money in my purse. and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principal to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off-then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings toward the ocean with me.” Melville, Moby Dick

“Sing to me of the man, Muse, The man of twists and turns; driven time and again off course…” Homer, The Odyssey

I started my boat log for Bristol Bay during my second season in the Bay. That was 1979. My first entry was May 28, 1979. My boat was a 32ft bowpicker…marine plywood and oak….built on the style of Columbia River salmon gillnetters….power roller forward, then work deck,picking bin,fishholds and a dog house cabin at the stern…the dog house held two bunks, a fuel oil stove and a converted slant 6 automobile engine…my deckhand, Long Bill and I slept on either side of the engine….Bill is 6ft.9in….the doghouse was about 7ft long….I was the “captain” by virtue of owning the boat and the drift permit…my seafaring resume consisted of one season crewing for Lonesome Larry in the Cook Inlet salmon fishery and one season …1978… in Bristol Bay…as “captain” of the Trio…my bowpicker….The Trio’s electronic package consisted of a CB radio (a.k.a. the mickey mouse) and a fathometer. There was a surprisingly accurate compass at the steering station, which was outside, at the back of the doghouse…as “captain” I steered standing up with a perfect 360 degree view and lots of fresh air…Long Bill would attempt to sleep without getting his feet tangled up in the engine belts, a source of constant concern to me…I also carried a very long stick since I knew from bitter experience that my fathometer was prone to failure…the stick was of course the measure of last resort….I also had a handheld lensatic compass….theoretically this was to take bearings on shore positions in order to triangulate a position….since the Bering Sea is often foggy and the Bristol Bay coast is tundra with few notable features upon which to hang a bearing…. I rarely knew precisely where I was….the only other entry in my seafaring resume was a solo sea kayaking trip down the gulf coast of Baja California during the winter of 1970-71….I kayaked alone from Oct..to Feb… +800 miles…from San Felipe to La Paz on the Baja penninsula….I caught fish on that trip too and I rarely knew precisely where I was….
I kept that log every season for the next 20 years…my last season in the Bay was 1998….my boat was a 32ft bowpicker…F/V Sierra….marine aluminum..custom built for me by Master Marine in Bellingham, WA…..flush decks, twin turbocharged Volvo AQAD 41A diesels, custom cabin with room for even Big Ron…the main steering station was inside the cabin…the electronics included a GPS, two Furuno LC-90 Lorans, three VHFradios, an ICOM M-55 radio with scrambler,the mickey mouse, a Raytheon V800color fathometer, Furuno LC-90 radar, three backup fathometers and a very long stick. We cruised at 20 knots and I sat inside and steered from my captain’s chair….at night it glowed like the cockpit of a 747.
In May of 1999 just before the start of the season I had a routine checkup…My Doc called me and told me I had a PSA of 16. I told him I was going fishing in a week. He advised me to change my plans. Turns out I had a very aggressive cancer in my prostate….I didn’t make the 1999 season …I spent the peak of the salmon season…around the 4th of July …recovering from surgery. That was the end for me…over the next couple of years I sold off the Sierra and my Bristol Bay limited entry permit.