Introduction
After spending 8 years in the Bering Sea and Gulf of Alaska,
you begin to understand that oceans speak, sometimes loudly, and sometimes
with a whisper, but make no mistake that the point is almost always made.
It is here in the often frozen, great expanses of the Northern Hemisphere,
that I make a living as a Field Biologist for the National Marine Fisheries
Service.
My Job
As a government "Observer" in the National Marine
Fisheries (NMFS) Service Observer Program, my job was multi-task oriented.
the NMF states, that as part of a management program, each vessel over
approximately 93 feet or so must have a NMFS Observer on board and as the
sole government representative on board an assigned commercial fishing
vessel on a three month contract. It was my charge to furnish everything
there was to know about how the catch was being taken (the net towing data,
depth, speed, water temp. etc.), what was in the catch, "by-catch"
(unwanted incidental species numbers, weight), biological data on the health,
year-class, size and age of the fish being targeted, pollution encountered
visually as well as in the net, and any marine mammal interaction with
the fishing effort. Upon returning to Seattle to debrief, I turned in a
data folder about 5 inches thick filled with relevant data for the fishing
effort.
Data on the catch is gathered by statistically sampling
a small "representative" sample of the catch, and then applying
it to the catch as a whole. This is a must as many vessels retrieve 4 or
5 hauls of fish within a day, and totals can reach as much as 115 metric
tons per haul! (This is on the smaller vessels that fish for 3 or 4 days
and deliver their catch to factories on shore for processing [shoreside
delivery vessels] ) Many of the floating "factory" vessels: those
that process, take deliveries at sea, and often catch their own fish as
well, may tow and retrieve nets with 150 metric tons.
Pollution data includes any floating debris encountered
while at sea, as well as any material finding its way into the net. This
debris includes fishing gear (line, netting etc.), discarded garments such
as boots, rain jackets etc., and often times, lost gear from other fiheries.
Often, we had to interrupt our fishing to remove "fish pots"
and "crab pots" from our nets. These pots are similar to giant
lobster pots, but are approximately 8' by 8' and catch their quarry by
attracting them with bait hanging inside the trap.
Hazards
Much of the weather for the lower states begins as lows
in the offshore waters in Alaska where they continue to develop and surge
south to the lower forty eight. It is the instability of the weather patterns,
drastically and quickly changing conditions, and the lack of weather data
gathering sources found in warmer waters that combines to make a day at
sea an often hair-raising and hazardous condition. We have often found
ourselves stuck far out at sea, in a 70' wooden or steel vessel when the
winds kick up to an astounding 90 knots, boiling the sea to a boiling froth
of 30 foot waves and freezing spray. Such storms are often extremely well
defined and intense, enough for then to show up on radar, allowing an unsuspecting
vessel to circumnavigate the fury. Many times, looking to starboard will
reveal a brightly lit, sunny sky while a glance to port reveals angry,
anvil shaped clouds dropping snow into a wind so rapid, that it never seems
to land but travel forever sidelong in a phenomenon known to fishermen
as the "horizontal snow".
Equally bizarre, is the "ice fog" encountered
in the Bering Sea. During World War II for example, the Japanese attempted
to bomb the Aleutians at Dutch Harbor (my home port!) as a diversion for
a major offensive in the Pacific at Midway. It is this seemingly ever present
fog lingering around the Aleutians, that hid the islands and allowed only
a tiny amount of Japanese bombers (I believe less than half a dozen) to
even find their intended target. In winter, this fog coats anything and
everything instantly with a dangerous, everbuilding coat of ice which threatens
to capsize boats and must therefore be removed hourly with baseball hat
in hand. Even on the calmest of days, however, the waters of the Bering
can remind those who tread her that she is to be respected at all times.
In the late winter of 1995, our vessel had decided to
lend assistance to a Coast Guard vessel that had run aground in shallow
waters between two of the islands in the Aleutians. While only a few hundred
yards from the vessel needing assistance, we too, heard one the most dreadful
sounds to a seaman, the keel of the boat striking some object below the
surface. While attempting to back off, we found ourselves making our situation
worse and by the time we were through, we were stuck fast while the Coast
Guard vessel floated away on the top of high tide. We remained there for
2 ½ weeks awaiting a salvage vessel to check damage and safely remove
us from the sand bar on which we landed.
I cannot explain fully how difficult it is to live an
ordinary life on a boat where half the time, at lower tides, the entire
boat is leaning some 30 degrees. Luckily, we were all more than a bit experienced
in holding all our plates of food, glasses of water etc. while eating a
meal in rough weather. When all was through, we put four holes in the bottom
of our vessel, and ripped off all the electronics used to find the fish
upon which we drew a salary.
It's amazing how much damage a mound of sand can do to
steel in the right conditions and it is times like these when one seems
to have the time to listen to the sea with a more sympathetic ear. Under
such solitary conditions one can appreciate the calming effect of ocean
life, you have the time to see how critters react to your presence, or
see the myriads of flotsam drifting by the boat.
