The North Wind

I had a bad feeling about today from the start. I woke up hearing the wind howling and feeling the big barn that I live in shaking like an earthquake. I checked the GOMOOS weather report online first thing (4:30 am) to learn that at the nearest weather buoy (Buoy E) it was blowing 25 mph, gusting to 30, and that there was a gale warning in effect. I called Cap to confirm that we were indeed going out. He said he'd like to "go take a look at it." I've learned the hard way that this means we're going out to haul.

On the drive down to Back Cove I took note of whose truck was at their dock and which boats had left New Harbor. Four other boats were out: some of the hardcore fishermen. I found this to be a consolation: at least we weren't the only crazy ones. I later learned that all of those boats had turned around first thing and returned to the mooring.

We rendezvous-ed in the Cove at our usual hour (6 am) and unloaded bait by the footbridge. Cap fetched the skiff and we piled 'er high with 5 trays of bait. The water was surging from the waves and as we went to push the skiff off of the shore, it seemed to be stuck on a rock. We heaved and hoed, to no avail. That is when my bad day really began. I flooded my boots right off. My Carharts were drenched. Luckily, I had a few long johns on and spare socks, so I was all set once I changed.

So the crappy day began. Cap's hat blew off and landed in the water (he snagged it with the gaff, but it was soaked). A huge wave curled off of the hull and splashed right in Caps face when he was leaning over the rail to gaff a buoy, drenching him, which especially sucks if you wear glasses. We encountered snarl after snarl of our lines entangled with other buoys. The bridle end of one trap collapsed under the pressure of a line squeezing the trap against the hull when it was in the hauler with three other traps hanging off it (not ours).

I could barely even do anything on deck without falling over. I literally fell flat on my ass as one wave threw us. I waited until the buoy was in the hauler until I attempted to maneuver any trays. I had to either brace myself or sit down to bait the irons. I must have had a scowl just about as ugly as that "scaregull" at the South Bristol co-op when Cap said:

"Well, we got through the first 10 pair. It's time to make a decision."

I replied: "I can't say I'm having much fun, but the forecast did say that it's supposed to drop out this afternoon. It can only get better from here, right?"

We called the dock and they were buying shrimp, so we decided to stick it out for another 15 pair and head in. By the time we got through those, the wind deceived us into thinking that it was relenting, so we pushed on through yet another 10 pair. Unfortunately, we were headed south along that string and therefore, moving away from land to where we were more exposed to the north wind. The conditions remained about the same until we were through. I was exhausted by the time we got done hauling. It was all I could do to muster the energy to clean the boat and sort shrimp, never mind prepare bait for tomorrow on the ride home. Working on rough seas takes a lot out of you.

Unfortunately, my mood and energy level seem to be dictated by the weather these days. When you work on the water, a good day is glorious, but when the weather is bad, you wonder if you're gonna make it through the day. Today was about our maximum threshold of wind velocity that was barely workable.

To most women in modern day and age, a "bad day" means that their hair is flat or they have cramps. For me, a bad work day means that I can barely stand up on deck all day. But the reality of it is that I probably wouldn't be able to stand up if I had an office job either: I'm terrible at walking in heels! On days like this I question my occupation, but when I consider the alternatives, I realize that maybe I'm doing right what I'm supposed to be doing after all.