Setting Traps

Here's a little video clip that I took yesterday on my camera. This video shows our normal routine when we're setting lobster traps at the beginning of the season. We are still fishing them in pairs, so you will see us getting two traps ready on the rail at a time. It shows you the perspective of the VHF radio on an average day on the boat (the black spiral cord on the left is to the radio and was unavoidable). :) Cap gave me permission to post this on my blog.

Here' s a little summary of what you're seeing:

I carry the lead trap forward from the stern and set it on the rail. I open the trap, string 3-4 sheepshead heads (speared through the eyes with the bait iron) on the bait line, close the trap and secure it with a cable tie. Then I undo a coil of rope, set it on the deck, and throw both ends on top of the trap as an indication that they need to be tied. Meanwhile, Cap is tying the sink rope end of that coil to the buoy with a fisherman's bend. I bring the tailer trap forward, set it on the rail, open it and remove the tailer warp (blue rope). Cap ties the other end of the coil to the bridle of the lead trap and then ties the tailer warp to the first coil (connecting the two traps). I bait the tailer and start to bait the irons for the next pair while Cap finishes tying knots. We both turn our traps on the rail in preparation for setting them. I enjoy the scenery and the warmth of the sun while Cap drives around for a bit scanning the depth and looking at the contours of the bottom on his depth finder. Cap yells "Yep, go ahead!" and I roll my trap off the rail. (This might look simple, but it took me quite a while last fall to get the hang of it.) I finish baiting the irons, while the line whizzes off the stern and Cap slides his trap off the rail. He is watching the line to make sure it doesn't tangle as it is let out (that's why he picks it up and holds it). I bring the next buoy and coil forward for the next pair and off we go again!

Our routine for preparing the second pair is a little different in that I tie the knots. I did this because Cap was still scheming where he wanted to set. Our sequence might vary a bit depending on where we're at. We just do what needs to get done at any given time. And there's always something that needs to get done!

Generally we've been setting loads of 50 traps (25 pair) at a time. That's the number of traps that fit comfortably, standing up on end, on the deck. Most fishermen lay them down and stack them high. More traps will fit on the stern when they are stacked that laying down, but they are not as stable in rough water. Cap likes to know that they are secure and not worry about whether they are going to fall off the stern, regardless of the weather. It is also easier for me when the traps aren't stacked really high. I'm not that tall, if you didn't notice!

My next goal is to take a video of us hauling traps, probably from the same vantage point. Stay tuned!

Rope Mountain

For the past two weeks, Cap and I have surrendered to existence in a trance-like state. This state can only be induced by the monotony of burning rope ends in a nylon haze, tying and untying knots and recoiling warps. It's called rope work.

We confronted the mountain of rope in Cap's old barn reluctantly. It was the relic of long coils from fall lobstering accumulating as we took up traps and then being abandoned once shrimp trapping season began this winter. The mountain o' rope towered over us covered in spider webs and various creepy-crawlers spilling out of the dark, moist sanctuary. This didn't make it any more inviting.

Cap's approach to rope is time-intensive, yet efficient in terms of materials. Some fishermen have inshore coils and offshore coils. They splice the rope together, so that you don't have to worry about knots. Initially the splicing is an investment of time, but after that you are done! Cap, on the other hand, reuses his coils year-round. He has short coils for summer fishing, and then ties on more sink rope to the top and adds float rope to the bottom when fall rolls around and the lobsters are in deeper water. The lengths of rope are tied together using a fisherman's bend. When that knot goes through the hauler, it wears the fibers a little more each time. After a few seasons, the knot is worn enough to potentially weaken it and it's time to trim that end and retie the knot.

I suppose I should back up a bit and explain rope. There are two types of line used in fishing: sink rope and float rope. Sink rope consists of nylon as well as fibers that are finer and will actually absorb water, making the line heavy and therefore it sinks. Float rope is made of pure nylon, which floats in the water column. A line on a trap (or a pair of traps) consists of sink rope on the top (closer to the water's surface) and float rope on the bottom (closer to the ocean bottom). The sink rope is tied to the buoy and the float rope is tied to the trap's bridle. If float rope was on top, it would float on the water's surface and boats would cut lines off all the time. If sink rope was on the bottom, then it would lay on the ocean bottom and snag on rocks all the time. That is why sink is always on top and float on bottom.

The line that connects two traps in a pair is another story. There has been a major change in legislation with regard to this part of lobster gear in the past few years. The "tailor warp" between traps used to be float rope, so that it would stay off the bottom and wouldn't snag rocks. However, someone decided that this was a threat to whales, since it creates loops of rope in which they could become entangled. Therefore, regulation now mandates that tailor warps are sink rope. This may sound like a very simple change, but the implications are actually huge. See the length of the tailor warps is short enough, that it doesn't make sense to use it as float rope on your main line. This means that all lobstermen who fish pairs (that is to say the great majority of them) have a ton of float rope to dispose of and replace with sink rope. This is a very costly transition for them to make.

Cap is resourceful and spliced some tailor warps together to make a long enough float rope to use. However, that takes a lot of time and most fishermen don't want to bother. There is a woman by the name of Penny Johnston who found a good use for these old tailor warps. Fishermen donate their old float rope to her and she weaves door mats out of it. Float rope comes in all colors, so she was able to make different colorful designs. She founded the Maine Float-Rope Company, which has apparently been quite a success.

We finally eliminated Rope Mountain yesterday. Just another milestone in the endless tedium of gear work. Now we only have to paint 100 bouys, build 200 traps, set another 150 traps . . . . the list is infinite. A fisherman never rests!

The Dream

We have been working on gear and setting traps so intensively lately, that I'm even dreaming about it. Last night I had a dream that I was setting my own traps. I motored out of a non-descript harbor in my 12' aluminum skiff with a backdrop of an eery gold sky. I steered hard to the starboard to avoid a ledge and continued out the mouth of the harbor to set my traps. I spotted the ledge where I planned to set around, the tip of it just peeking out of the water. At that point I slid a trap off the rail and let the line out, motoring away as the trap sunk, just like Cap does. However, at the last minute I realized that the line was wrapped around the bridle end of the next trap. I frantically tried to untangle it with one hand while I steered with the other.

In the dream I had two realizations:

1.) I am clueless when it comes to the strategy part of setting traps. Sure it's easy enough to slide traps into the water. But there's a whole other part of it that I know nothing about: knowing the topography of the bottom, where to find lobsters, and how to set the trap in relation to those contours. When I arrived at the ledge in my dream, I realized that I actually didn't know what the heck I was doing.

2.) It is incredibly dangerous to be working out on the water alone. When the rope caught on another trap it crossed my mind that at any moment it could pop off, catch my arm, and drag me into the water. No one would be there to save me. I realized that having someone else on board is a safety measure as well as a big help with the work.

Good lessons for a sleepy sternlady!

So'west Haze

I am pleased to say that it seems that the days of bitter north winds have left us. Although we return to the deep waters to lobster again, we are entering into a new season with different weather patterns and the seas are much more managable.

The past few days that Cap and I have been out setting traps, have been beautiful: glassy calm water, crystal clear sky, and a horizon lined with a soft, ethereal haze. We fully enjoyed this change of weather and steamed home before the wind picked up in the afternoon. This kind of day is characteristic of the southwest wind weather pattern that prevails through most of the summer months.

One day when I was younger I remarked about this light haze on the water as my father and I walked along the rocky shore. My fisherman father responded "That's the so'west haze, Kaff. . ." and went on to tell me about the weather patterns.

Salty Veins

Yesterday on the steam out to the West Grounds, I spotted a black, shiny round thing bobbing on the water's surface. At first I dismissed it as a dirty, algae-covered buoy, but the second time I looked, I realized it was a seal. It glided through the water effortlessly, probably curious about what we were doing. Then Cap accelerated to full throttle and the seal's head dove followed by the smooth curve of its back and it disappeared out of sight.

I'm glad to see the seals back. I enjoy their company in the summer months. They are sweet, playful, and curious about human activity. And they remind me of my black lab, Liza, who we had to put down last July. That girl took to water just like a seal. Her head even resembled the shape and shininess of a seal's bald head when she swam. Liz and I used to swim together in Back Cove in the summer. She'd swim alongside me, puffing gently out of her nostrils from the exertion, both of us smiling contentedly. There's nothing that she and I liked better in the summer heat than taking a refreshing dip in the ocean. Simple pleasures.

In fact, I've been known to swim almost every day in the Cove during the summer months. Last summer I wasn't down there much, because my job was SCUBA diving, and I'd had enough time in the water by the end of the day. However, in previous years, especially on hot stuffy days of cleaning my parents' cottages, I so looked forward to that icy splash at the end of the dock. The fishermen used to say that my shiny dark head of hair looks like a seal's head when it's slicked back from the saltwater. I'd be swimming along and the boys would say from the dock "Look it's a seal! Oh no, it's just Katherine swimming."

I look forward to that cleansing dip at the end of a hard summer day's work. There is something so pure, so re-energizing, and so buoyant about immersion in saltwater. Freshwater simply doesn't compare in the scalding July heat. As a warm-blooded Mainer who doesn't do well in heat, I have to have the ocean within earshot in case of emergency so that I can run and jump in when I overheat. But then again, I don't do well far from the ocean any time of year. It nourishes my soul.

The Other Woman

Spring is here. Fishermen that I've never heard of are seeping out of the cracks and launching their boats. We have to share the dock again, which takes some getting used to after practically having the run of the Harbor all winter.

The other change is that there's another sternlady in the Harbor. Another woman. I'm strangely intrigued by her presence. I guess that's how the guys reacted to me when I entered the scene last November. I feel comradery towards her, like we're in a secret sternlady's club. I have to say it's a relief to see another woman on the water.

Interestingly, I find that I'm comparing myself to her, which I don't do with male fishermen. She's pretty tough. She has a big shiny black Dodge Ram 1500 Hemi truck with silver flames on the sides. Pretty cool. She parked beside me yesterday and dwarfed my green Camry with peace bumper stickers. She's stalky, tough and wears bright tie-dye shirts. I gotta admit, I feel a little immasculated by her. I feel like a girly-girl.

Yet I know it isn't productive to compare myself to others. I survived a winter of fishing, of which I am rightly quite proud, and I daresay did my job well. I may be petite and lady-like, but that's not to say that I'm weak or squeamish about digging my hands into rotten herring. An old co-worker at the oyster farm where I worked a few years back used to call me "Mighty Mouse." Little, perhaps, but quite capable for my size, thank you very much.

Maybe next time I see her on the dock, I'll say "Ya know, your nails would look great in fusia." Just kidding. . .

Good Omens

Lobster season is off with a bang! We set 150 traps in the past two days. Yesterday Cap's son pulled up alongside us to report that they saw Air Force One fly overhead when they were out hauling. Obama must have been on his way to Portland. Cap speculated that he might have flown into the Brunswick Naval Air Base, since he probably wouldn't fly this far north if they were landing at the Portland Jetport. Unfortunately, Cap and I were in at the dock when the presidential sighting occurred and missed out. I like to think of it as Obama blessing the commencement of lobster season, even though he wasn't aware that he was doing it. I imagine other fishermen who witnessed the fly-by were shaking their fists instead of marvelling. The gov'ment is blamed for just about everything around these parts.

The fog was so thick out there today that we couldn't see land all day. Even on the steam home, when were were but a stone's throw from the mainland, the rocky shore wasn't discernible. Cap had to use the radar and the chart on his computer to find our way home. He showed me how boats and marker buoys appear on the radar screen. I learned that the size of a mark on the screen doesn't represent the size of an object in real life. Different materials (metal, wood, fiberglass) reflect the radar frequencies to varying degrees. For example, a wooden lobster boat only showed up as a pin prick compared to a well-defined streak that represented a metal marker buoy. I found this interesting.

At one point this morning I looked up to see the makings of a rainbow. I say "makings" because it wasn't actually a rainbow. It was an iridescent arc of white light opposite the hazy sun. The light wasn't refracting so it wasn't a colorful arc, but the illuminescence was pretty. I pointed it out to Cap and he said "Maybe we should set some traps over there!" Another good omen.

Today we hauled a pair to reset it after a half hour. Low and behold it had a keeper in it! That was inspiring after hearing pretty dismal reports of the catch lately. We were off in deeper waters today (40 fathom or 240 feet), so it makes sense that we will catch some lobster out that far (10-12 miles off shore). I ate it for dinner; first lobster of the season. Boy was it good! I was starting to get tired of shrimp. It's the first reward I've had for two weeks of hard work. I've gotta say, it'll be nice to start hauling again and see a paycheck!

These "good omens" might seem like trivial consequences that are irrelevant to lobstering. Frankly, at this point I'm looking for any sign of hope, given the dismal reports of the catch lately. The price at the dock is only $4.50/lb, whereas it should be $8 or $9 this time of year. We will only be fishing 400 traps and the catch will be lower on average than it was last fall. Luckily, lobsters are hardier than shrimp and can be left to accumulate in a trap until the bait's gone. Therefore, we will let the traps set for a week and make it worth the steam out. We will probably only be hauling 2 or 3 days a week and building traps on the "off" days.

Spring fishing will feel like a breeze compared to shrimping, once we get all of the traps overboard. Cap and I both have sore arms and backs from handling traps. Shrimping was good conditioning for lobster season. My upper body is stronger than ever. I have the strength now, but I'm looking for a resurgence of inspiration. It is hard to find gear work and trap setting inspiring. I think once the sun comes out and we start hauling again, I will remember why I'm out there.