Choreography

Here I am yet again likening the brutal, dirty work of lobstering to the beautiful, refined art of dance! When I find myself in such fantastical daydreams, I stop and think: Really, Katherine! Alvin Ailey and Nureyev would be outraged by the comparison to look at a lobster boat steeped in mud and pogy blood with brutes of men clobbering around on deck. I suppose it isn't all that surprising given that fishing and dance are two of my passions in life, both of which inspire me.

Regardless of how horrifying the idea may be to a prima ballerina, lobstering does indeed involve quite a bit of carefully calculated choreography. I believe that it takes some degree of awareness of movement to be a good fisherman of any sort. However, when working in a fishery that involves trapping and especially in an industry that is as dependent on quantity as lobstering is, every movement must be meticulously efficient.

Our routine is very methodical. We preform the same sequence over and over again. Once the trap hits the rail, Cap carefully removes lobsters from the trap. The flick of my wrist slides the bait bag onto the bait line. The trap's door slams shut, the bungee fixed in place and -splash!- the trap hits water again. The boat gracefully pirouettes under the direction of Cap's steady hand.

I sashe across the deck as the line rushes overboard, careful not to get my feet entangled in it. Sashe, a glorified shuffle, isn't just a pretty dance move. Who knew?! It is also a practical movement when there's rope on the deck. I used to find it amusing how Cap shuffled about, assuming that it was another endearing quirk in his personality. Turns out shuffling on deck is actually a safety precaution. It didn't take me long to realize that Cap was shuffling so as not to lift his feet and snag a line. Now I do the same.

This isn't to say that every movement on the boat is planned and efficient, although that is the intention. There are plenty of inconsistencies that slow us down. A line snarled with another fishermen's rope. Lobsters pinching us. A trap sliding off the rail when we don't want it to. These are the frustrations and mistakes that make our dance unique. This is the variation that makes life interesting.