In the Thick of It

We were in the thick of it alright. A good portion of our trap hauling this summer has taken place in thick fog, but today I think it was denser than usual. The condensation in the air was so heavy that I could see the water droplets, not precipitating, but suspended and drifting in the air column. You know the saying "thicker than pea soup?" Well, that it was. And every bit as unappealing too.

The guys were remarking about the lack of visibility on the radio. Two boats exchanged surprised remarks when they could actually see each other and make out who the other was. Others commented that they were going in early, because it just wasn't worth it. The general tone was generally of defeat and frustration.

I gotta say, I'm getting pretty damn sick of the fog. It makes for a pretty miserable day for a few reasons. First of all, fog makes for a frustrated Cap. The GPS is marvelous technology (when it's working), however, there is some margin of error since a buoy can't be marked by a single point on a map. The line is longer than the water depth to account for both the difference in depth due to lunar tides and to allow for some slack so the buoy isn't sunk in the currents. Therefore, there is still some searching involved, which becomes very difficult when you only have a 20 foot radius of visibility. Cap was concentrating so loudly on seeing that I could almost hear it. I lent Cap an extra pair of eyes with which to spot buoys, but there was still some extra steaming in circles involved. Generally speaking, everything becomes less efficient (in terms of time, fuel, and daily profit). This, in addition to the usual frustrations of the industry {snarls, local fishing politics, bad bait (small, old, and with specs of creosote), as well as cryptic punchtails} make Cap rather irritable.

Fog also makes my job less enjoyable. I don't like it when Cap frustrated, first of all. There is nothing that I can do to facilitate things. Secondly, I get bored. Now normally "bored" is not found in my vocabulary. Since I was little, I've had no trouble amusing myself and have always had many personal projects going on at a given time. But when I'm at work, I am held captive. My normal work day is packed with so many menial tasks that I don't have time to eat, drink, or pee. However, foggy days are slow-paced. Part of the reason I enjoy working on the boat is indulging the scenery when I have a spare minute to breathe. On foggy days there is no scenery. Just fog. Thick fog. The only amusement I found today was in 1. singing country tunes softly to myself and 2. playing "Name-that-Land-Mass" on the radar screen. It's harder than you'd think!

We did however have a few marine life sightings that provided temporary distraction and relief from the relentless haze. We were hauling pairs off shore today, so the sea life was a bit more diverse than it is by the shore. We must have spotted at

least 10 gannets flying individually at different times. I saw a few young gannets that were mottled brown. We also spotted some mature ones, with pristine white, black-tipped wings and a golden head. They are quite magnificent birds and rather rare.

At one point, we were steaming between buoys and Cap threw her out of gear so abruptly that I thought he'd lost his cap in the breeze. I looked up to find him peering into the water at a sunfish! Sunfish are kinda the lazy oafs of the sea. People spot them doddling around on the water's surface on their side, just laying there looking up at the sky with one eye. They are very bizarrely shaped, not appearing very streamline or graceful. They're kinda square, as a matter of fact. Sunfish often have scars from propellers, since they don't move fast enough to get

out of the way or are just too stupid to realize that they're in danger. I've never understood how such a creature survived to this day. One would think that they would be eliminated from the gene pool immediately according to Darwin's law of "survival of the fittest." A shark could wipe one out without so much as the flip of its tail. Anywho, they are a sight to see and are somehow impressive in their idleness.

Another interesting sight was a school of fish skimming the surface. Again, Cap pointed this out to me as I was stuffing bait bags. It was a lovely, synchronous movement, similar to a gust of wind agitating the water, but with silver highlights. Cap guessed that it was herring. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a predator below that chased them to the surface.

I glanced at the radar as we entered the mouth of the Harbor, curious whether it would pick up all of the boats. Sure enough, there was the horseshoe-shaped landmass corralling a myriad moored boats in the harbor. That land mass was unmistakenable: home.

It ended up being a long day, as expected at the pace we were moving. We didn't step on shore until 6:30 pm, making for a 12.5 hour long day. But the catch was actually decent for the number of traps that we hauled. All in all, we did alright considering the conditions. Another challenging day aboard the lobsterboat complete.