Hard Work

Just the other day I was talking with a friend, who was curious about my job. She started asking questions and became increasingly intrigued with each response. Eventually she asked "Is it hard work?" I looked at her thinking: If you are asking me that question then you clearly have no idea what I do. Snobby, perhaps. Instead I answered: "Yes, Sara, it is hard work."

Where to begin? Well how about at 6 am in the morning. Cap pulls up and parks his truck next to my car by the dock. We trudge down to the bait cooler still sleepy-eyed, exchanging curt greetings. Cap picks a barrel of herring and goes to fetch the boat. I know my job. Mission: transfer bait. I use the communal pitchfork and shovel to transfer one barrel (5 bushels) of bait into four fish trays. This isn't clean work. I'm already covered in smelly fish juice.

Cap pulls the boat up to the dock. We load the boat with bait, bundles of rope, and buoys. Then we motor over to his float and load the stern with 30 traps. Lobster traps typically have 3 or 4 bricks in them. They aren't light and they feel even heavier at 6:30 in the morning. This is our morning workout. By the time we are steaming out of the harbor I've already worked up a sweat.

Then we begin the long haul. Hauling a trap consists of the following: Cap gaffs the buoy and pulls the trap onto the rail. He opens the door. I remove the old bait bag and thread a full bag onto the bait line. He removes the lobsters, putting them in buckets. I close the trap door and push it ahead on the rail, positioning it for him to set. Then I measure and band lobsters, determining if they are hardshells or shedders. One band per claw for shedders, and two bands per claw for hardshells. Then I fill the next bait bag, piercing it with the bait iron.

Multiply that routine by 200.

Eventually, after what sometimes feels like eons, Cap calls for "last trap." I am relieved, since my back and feet hurt, but I'm not done with work yet. I have to scrub fish grease and mud off of the boat, making it shine before we reach the dock to sell lobsters. These days, we aren't hauling far from the Harbor, so I have to hurry to clean the boat in time. Cap helps out, scrubbing his console.

We reach the dock and I prepare for unloading lobsters (clearing a path to the lobster tank, shutting off the pump that fills the tank, and draining the tank). We unload the lobsters individually, making sure that each one is alive and segregating them into hardshells and shedders, since there is a different price for each. Then we motor over to the mooring, Cap moors us, I cover up bait, turn the tank valve off, and (finally!) take my oilpants off. We take the skiff to the dock. My day is officially over when I remove my rubber boots at my car. It is 4 or 5 pm by that time. We are both exhausted. A hard day's work is complete.