Two weeks with Alaskan Fishermen
Alaska, commonly refer to as, “the final frontier”… where wildlife is in abundance, the breathtaking views of nature are everywhere, and the opportunity to explore is at your feet. I had heard many stories told by my friend, Norm, a commercial fisherman, about his life in Alaska, his adventures, the unexpected encounters with grizzly bears and the many times he just tried to survive in the wild. Norm loves the sea and being outdoors, and he’s the sort of person who inspires anyone around him. Hearing of his experiences, I imagined what Alaska might be like and what commercial fishing is all about. Then late in the Spring of 1993, he asked if I would like to accompany him and his son Mike in motoring his fishing boat 1,000 miles from Seattle to Alaska and then spend a week fishing for halibut. With a duffle bag of a few essentials, some books and changes of clothes, I was ready.
Docked at the Fisherman’s Terminal in Seattle for the Winter, Norm’s thirty-two foot long fishing boat, was ready for its annual journey. The cabin was made pretty comfortable with a diesel burning cook top, a seating area with table (see the image to the right of Norm and me), some cabinets for food storage and carpet. Foam insulation covered the engine compartment to muffle down the roar of the diesel motor, which was still pretty deafening.
Ear plugs had to be worn throughout the day. And to make life a little more interesting, there was no bathroom on the boat, except for a bucket and roll of toilet paper. It wasn’t quite the comfort of home but an upgrade in commercial fishing standards compared to other boats Norm had been on, where the thinking typically is “If it doesn’t help in catching fish, it isn’t needed.”
(Norm-right and me inside his boat)
It was a sunny Saturday morning with calm water as Norm and I cast off from the Fisherman’s terminal. The journey to Alaska was going to be slow and steady at 12 knots per hour for about 1,000 miles. The plan was for us to take the boat north to Bellingham (about 70 nautical miles) to rendezvous that night with his son, Mike. From there, Mike and I would pilot the boat the rest of the way to Juneau, Alaska. The voyage will take us approximately seven days. Once arrived, Norm will fly up to meet us.
After a good night’s rest in Bellingham, early the next morning I was awakened when the engine roared to life as Mike piloted us out of the marina. I stayed in my sleeping bag listening to water pounding down on the deck above me. The sound of water splashing outside was throughout the cabin as each wave hit the bow of the boat and sea water pushed down on the deck and up and over the cabin windshield. I got myself out of my bunk. The start of day two had begun with us leaving the safe, calm marina and heading out into open waters with white cap waves and blowing winds. I took some comfort in seeing Mike being calm and focused as I felt the nervousness and excitement growing within me. We had about 900 miles to go.
(Mike at the stern prepping before heading out)
Over the next week, every day began at about 5:30 AM and the engine didn’t stop until 8 or 9 PM. Mike and I took turns piloting the boat, switching every few hours. We mainly had to watch out for the many tree logs in the water which could damage the hull if we hit them hard. Also, it was important to keep the boat on course with the guide of the compass, as any big course corrections meant more time, more miles and more fuel. We traveled not far off the coast through the Inside Passage between the islands on our way north. The daytime routines were about the same with a mix of hours of watching water, reading books, steering the boat, and napping. At the end of each day, Mike would pilot us to a small cove he had been to before, and anchor us for the night.
The constant watch for a possible encounter with wildlife was a nice diversion from the routine. Porpoises would cruise alongside us or out in front of the bow. Pods of killer whales and a sea lion here and there were spotted several times. Bald eagles became a regular sight. A few humpback whales breached out of the water and reentered with enormous splashes. During one of these days, while anchored in a cove, a whale made its way in our direction. When it passed by, within mere feet of the boat, it turned on its side and looked directly at us. To see an eye the size of a dinner plate, staring at me from just under the surface of the water, is a sight I’ll never forget. The further north we got, the more I felt removed from civilization and sensed a certain connection to this vast, untamed and unspoiled place that is full of wildlife.
(glacier near Juneau, Alaska)
After seven days out at sea and having witnessed some of the most beautiful scenery, Mike and I safely docked in Juneau and met up with Norm. It was good to be back on land even for just a day before heading back out on the boat for halibut fishing. The day was spent mostly preparing, checking and sharpening the hundreds of hooks, loading supplies, clips, lines, weights, and hundreds of pounds of ice, needed to keep the fish we caught cold.
With the limited time of seventy-two hours open for commercial fishing, we headed out into the open water, to one of Norm’s regular fishing grounds. To catch halibut, which are bottom feeders, a long line of baited hooks was lowered and anchored down to the ocean floor. This line was unspooled for a mile or more, and after a short time, reeled back in. Each fish was measured for its length, and any that were below the requirements were put back in the water and the rest were prepared and put on ice in storage. The three of us were on deck doing our parts with little rest before the process was repeated at a different location in hopes of a decent catch.
When fishing for halibut, occasionally another fish takes the bait and one time it was a large red snapper. The fish was tossed back into the ocean. From the mainland, more than a mile away, a bald eagle spotted the fish and began to make its way towards us. Norm had seen the eagle and called out, “Watch what happens, Billy!” The Eagle dove on top of the fish, just off the side of the boat, grabbed it in its talons, and furiously flapped its wings to get airborne again. With its prey, the bird circled us for the next several minutes as it slowly...slowly...slowly gained altitude with the large fish in its claws. Finally, after reaching a height of perhaps a couple hundred feet, it stopped circling, pointed back to shore and flew straight back to land exactly from where it had come. With magnificent eyesight, that bird had spotted us tossing the red snapper into the ocean from a mile away and had flown out to retrieve it. What an incredible sight to see.
(Norm and me-in the rear, bringing in a halibut)
On another occasion while cruising between islands, Norm spotted a line of rope floating in the water, not tied to a buoy. Somehow the line had been cut. As Norm steered us closer to the rope he explained that it was treacherous to leave it floating on the water as another boat could get their propeller tangled up in it, which can be difficult to remove. We grabbed the line and reel it in. The rope grew taunt as something heavy was on the other end. Once it got close to the side of the boat, I could see the heavy steel cage was filled king crab. The crab pot was too heavy to be pulled onto the deck, and the best thing to do was to keep it along the side of the boat then drag it closer to shore and out of the main traveling lane through the channel. Norm opened the crab pot door to release the crab but kept a few for our meals. We coiled up the line to make an improvised buoy so other boats had a chance to spot it.
(Norm and the crab pot)
My two weeks was finished and it was time for me to fly back to Seattle and leave Mike and Norm to fish through the summer. This was an amazing experience, and when the seventy-two hours of fishing came to a close, I was exhausted, deprived of sleep but very satisfied with the sense of accomplishment. The job as an Alaskan fisherman is a hard profession. I found it to be strenuous and dangerous at times but also adventurous, fulfilling, and important. The time I spent in Alaska was short but filled with activities which were all new to me; helping Mike pilot a commercial fishing boat for 1,000 miles, anchoring in remote coves for the night where the only light to be seen was from the night sky, to witness the abundance of wildlife all around and to stand before the grandness of Alaska landscapes.
(me, measuring the length of a halibut)
To put myself in another person’s shoes for a short time and take part in their way of life, is an honor. It helped me to connect in ways which words can have a hard time conveying. I truly have gained an appreciation for what Norm and Mike do, understand more and see things from a new perspective. For over fifty years, Norm fished halibut and salmon and has since retired. Mike continues to fish in Alaska in the summers and carry on what his dad had started.