Breathless

Today was the calmest day that we've had out on the water so far this year. The buoys pointed every which way, whereas they usually point unanimously away from the wind. There wasn't a breath of wind. Not even a puff or breeze. It was breathless.

The surface of the water was glassy offering a mirror image of everything above it. Each buoy floated atop a reflection of its bold colors. Only the boats escaped their reflections since their movement disturbed the water, creating waves and wake. The sunlight refracted in the fine mist that flew from the bow as it displaced seawater, creating a small rainbow in the spray.

I gazed out at the horizon and saw the Friendship Sloops sailing south to Boothbay Harbor for Windjammer Days. I couldn't imagine how those mighty vessels were actually moving. Their sails were like sharp mountain peaks, jutting up into the hazy sky. There must have been some wind further off shore to propel them.

I was also out of breath. We set 30 traps that still had tailer warps tied to their bridles from their days of fishing as pairs in deeper waters. I had to remove the tailer warp in addition to doing all of the usual tasks. This simple extra step made my routine quite a bit more challenging. I was frantically baiting, tying and untying knots, fetching more buoys and rope, cinching cable ties and running for and aft to grab the next trap as the last buoy hit the water. It was exhausting. Luckily, the rest of the day was relatively mellow, since we didn't catch many lobsters. I had a few moments to catch my breath.