What Happened in Bristol Bay
After being back in Wrangell for two weeks, I’ve had some time to mull over (and try to forget) the fishing adventure I was on for three weeks.
One thing I wish I had not gained by going to Bristol Bay and deckhanding for the F/V Glory B is a new found aversion to touching whole, raw fish. I handled so many Sockeye salmon (as well as dog salmon and some King salmon) by releasing them from the tangled gillnet – oftentimes listening as they made a horrendous gurgling-sucking-air sound which I now associate with dying salmon – and throwing them (not back into the water towards freedom but) into huge bags, which eventually led them to a processor.
And now, I just cannot bring myself to touch any more raw, whole fish, whether it’s a tiny herring or a salmon. I hate it, that I’ve been getting so disgusted, because it makes me feel like a wimp. Since coming back to Wrangell, I haven’t been able to bait my own hook or help friends pick a subsistence gillnet. Hopefully, as others seem to think, I’ll get over this aversion.
A positive thing that I can say about my adventure in commercial fishing is that I did it. I got it out of my system and sometimes one just has to do that to go on with life. I have to admit, I thought commercial fishing in Bristol Bay would be all adventure and glamour (as “glamorous” as donning rain gear and gloves and picking nets of fish can be), and for some it is. For many deckhands, it is about hard work and fast money. For me, it was always just about exposing myself to something brand new, which I accomplished one hundred percent.
In the next day or so I’ll post a smattering of journal entries I wrote while on-board the Glory B. Notice the downward decline in my spirit, which is what eventually led me to quit after a series of events, including the boat losing its steering and having to go dry in Dillingham as it waited for a welder, and the initial quitting of the other deckhand, Sierra, without whom my morale would’ve been completely lost during our three-week stint.
One thing I wish I had not gained by going to Bristol Bay and deckhanding for the F/V Glory B is a new found aversion to touching whole, raw fish. I handled so many Sockeye salmon (as well as dog salmon and some King salmon) by releasing them from the tangled gillnet – oftentimes listening as they made a horrendous gurgling-sucking-air sound which I now associate with dying salmon – and throwing them (not back into the water towards freedom but) into huge bags, which eventually led them to a processor.
And now, I just cannot bring myself to touch any more raw, whole fish, whether it’s a tiny herring or a salmon. I hate it, that I’ve been getting so disgusted, because it makes me feel like a wimp. Since coming back to Wrangell, I haven’t been able to bait my own hook or help friends pick a subsistence gillnet. Hopefully, as others seem to think, I’ll get over this aversion.
A positive thing that I can say about my adventure in commercial fishing is that I did it. I got it out of my system and sometimes one just has to do that to go on with life. I have to admit, I thought commercial fishing in Bristol Bay would be all adventure and glamour (as “glamorous” as donning rain gear and gloves and picking nets of fish can be), and for some it is. For many deckhands, it is about hard work and fast money. For me, it was always just about exposing myself to something brand new, which I accomplished one hundred percent.
In the next day or so I’ll post a smattering of journal entries I wrote while on-board the Glory B. Notice the downward decline in my spirit, which is what eventually led me to quit after a series of events, including the boat losing its steering and having to go dry in Dillingham as it waited for a welder, and the initial quitting of the other deckhand, Sierra, without whom my morale would’ve been completely lost during our three-week stint.
posted by Siapiau | 5:33 PM
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