The Unexpected

It was one of those days when I found myself repeating "It's a weird day" one too many times. They say that if you don't like the weather in Maine, then just wait a minute. In other words, our weather is constantly changing. Today was a perfect example of that. The weather seemed to be dramatically shifting every few hours.

The day started off rough. The waves weren't huge, but frequent enough to be a nuisance. I couldn't leave a trap on the rail unattended or else it would hop into the water on its own accord. I had to brace myself with my legs while doing my daily duties (filling bait bags, baiting traps, measuring and banding lobsters, etc). The spray showered the wheelhouse, streaming off the roof in little rivulets and dripping down on me. Every once in a while, a rouge wave caught the bow, jerking the whole boat and sending everything flying in mid air, to my frustration. A little chop adds an element of challenge to all activities aboard a boat.

A bit later the wind dropped out and the sun shone brightly. The impact of waves on the hull quieted down to playful slapping as opposed to violent punches. The water's surface smoothed out and once again reflected gulls and sky. I even commented that maybe it would turn into a nice day after all.

Not long after that, Cap pointed to the southard. "Looks like it's gonna breeze up again," he said. I looked up to see, literally, a wall of wind approaching us. You could actually see the barrier where smooth swell turned to sharp waves crested with whitecaps, like jagged mountain peaks. The sky was a dark bluish-grey acting as a stark backdrop to the whitecaps. Off in the distance, a hole in the clouds permitted a column of white light to beam down from above. It was a dramatic sky of contrasting shadow and brightness. The water was even darker than the clouds. The boys talked of heading in on the radio. Then the VHF fell eerily silent. We hauled on.

Just to cap off the "weird day," we had a strange event happen while hauling the last traps. Cap had announced that we were down to the last string and we had the third pair in the hauler when something unexpected occurred. Of course the last string of traps had to be the most challenging, all snarled up with other fishermen's lines. I knew that we had hit yet another snarl when the whine of the hauler amplified to an almost unbearably loud moan, under the pressure of more than two traps. The lead trap hit the hull and, sure enough, it had a foreign line looped over the bridle. I was stuffing bait bags with my back turned to the hauler, when somehow under the pressure of the other line, the trap popped up and hit me hard on the shoulder. I swore loudly, surprised by how abrupt and forceful the trap had moved. Cap yelled out an apology to me while untangling the snarl angrily. I went back to my work silently, a bit stunned by what had just happened and by Cap's strong reaction afterward. We only had six pair left to haul, so I proceeded as if we were going to finish the day's work. However, Cap turned to me once we had set the cursed pair and gave me the signal indicating that we were done. "Let's just get back in one piece," he said as we began the long steam home.

A few realizations hit me along with that trap:

1.) Lobstering is dangerous. When working on the water, things can go wrong in a hurry. There is a great amount of pressure on those lines and if something snaps or catches you, there's very little to no time to respond. Lobstahgal didn't feel so invincible in that split second.

2.) Cap cares about my well-being. I think that his moral was injured more than my shoulder was. I might have a handsome bruise on my shoulder in the next few days, but I wasn't harmed. Cap really took the incident to heart by steaming home instead of completing the string. Normally, we would bust our balls to haul through all the traps in an area that far off shore so as to avoid steaming out there again just to haul a few pair. I was touched by his protective instinct.

3.) There is much tension in the fishing industry on many levels: political (legislation), regional (between territories, or zones), and communal (conflict between fishermen). All of this tension creates an atmosphere of negativity, which I've been noticing is wearing on me lately. Cap was so infuriated by the incident because he had a sour history with that particular fisherman. He later expressed that he felt bad that his conflict with the other guy had harmed me. Somehow, this event felt symbolic to me that all of the tension between fishermen is beginning to have negative effects on me (my outlook specifically). After all, the trap jumped literally due to the tension on the lines! I think that if any human participates in the lobstering community for too long, they turn into a scrooge.

All in all, we returned from the unpredictable day in one piece and with a full tank. I'm glad that the day is done. Only a few more days left on the boat! I will do my best to savor them. . .