Learning my way around the Kathrine-S and her crew. Helping get everything ready to head out to Alaska. My contract and early cooking fuckups. The inside passage, sea-sickness, being a greenhorn, the watches, reaching Ketchikan.
THE KATHARINE-S: A wooden hulled purse-seiner, built in the early 1950's in Juneau by a native Alaskan, James (Jim) R. Sharp and named after the other love of his life, his wife Katharine. He ran her as a commercial fishing vessel out of Hawk Inlet Cannery at a time when it was unheard of for a native Alaskan to own a boat.
DAN KRAJEWSKI: Skipper was a good-hearted man. A man of the sea as was his father before him. He ran the Katharine-S with equanimity, calmly taking multiple decisions in times of crisis. After a bit of a mishap he had had at a lake nearby, skipper told me that the best sailors came from those that didn't know how to swim. That made two of us.
THE LAYOUT: In the foreground is the skiff hauled to sit over the seine on the back deck. Right beyond is the head (toilet) and the entrance to the galley with the captains cabin and wheel ahead, just over the bow. The engine room and crew quarters were below and overhead was the wheel house.
THE DECK: Below this back-deck was the chilled hold to store the catch and access to the diesel and potable water storage tanks.
THE FO'C'SLE: This is where we slept. Six bunks, three on each side. Cramped with strong wet dog smells wafting around except when the engine room smells over powered it or if the hatch cover was open. If you hear a voice from the upper bunks saying "cheers", you have about 10 seconds before the sometimes silent and fishy fart descends upon you. John was the usual culprit!
MY BUNK: Apart from some bone-weary sleep whenever possible, this was for staring at the bottom of the bunk above a foot away with the sheet of paper tacked showing dates crossed off before I will allow myself to quit or until the end of the season. It always felt like what might be a proverbial "back to the womb" kind of place, listening to the slap of the waves through the hull and the steady thump of the engine or the bilge pumps through the door. The little reading light was my greatest comfort.
THE ENGINE ROOM: Next to the fo'c'sle was the heart of the vessel with all its engines, batteries, pumps and dirty, greasy water sloshing around in the bilge. Multiple emergencies required us to clamber into the engine room and solve some problem or the other. There was also a story of an interesting added afterthought - a "smoking gun" was customized to screw into one of the existing steel pipes, pulling one over any sniffer dogs who wouldn't be able to smell a damn thing in there.
THE GALLEY: The coffee, the food, the little table and the huggable exhaust that ran through from the engines made the tiny galley the center of life on board. One didn't (couldn't) move around much while cooking because the oven, fryer, the range and the sink were a compact unit. The little B&W TV with the VCR on the little table was the only source of entertainment when we were anchored in some bay or the other.
MYSELF: Tired out, Taking a break.
JIM THE COOK: An old hand, brought back as a result of my early disappointing, sometimes disastrous attempts at cooking for the crew. A collective sigh of relief went up (including mine) when Jim stepped back again on board and the quality of food went up a few hundred percent.
THE HEAD: Just off the back-deck and strangely named. There was a time when the door fell off and a newspaper held in front was an optional accessory. As you can see baths were not an option when we were out fishing.
THE SKIFF: The powerful 15 foot aluminium skiff so critical to fishing operations.
LENNY: On the left, was our absolutely competent skiff-man. A "Guns & Roses" fan, he was our resident philosopher. "Habits" was his answer to almost any question directed at him.
JOHN: Was a local from Alaska and an old hand at commercial fishing work. John, mostly worked the skiff.
GREG: Easily the most colorful character on board. Full of good cheer, always ready for a good time and his escapades on and off board were many. While fishing, Greg usually piled the cork line when the seine came on board.
JIM: A good man to have around and a peaceful, leave me alone and I will leave you alone type of guy. He worked hard, never shirked on his job. Most often, set after set, Jim piled the lead line.
THE INSIDE PASSAGE: The natural ever-changing, sheltered from the open sea, soul-filling route we took from Seattle, past Victoria, Vancouver and through Ketchikan in Alaska was through the inside passage. If I remember right it took us about 3-4 days at a speed of around 8 knots.
DOLPHINS. For some reason dolphins seem to really enjoy running just ahead of the ships surf, sometimes breaking out of the water. I've seen young ones shadow the mother, swimming equally fast and weaving in tandem to her movements. They are a joy to watch. Skipper believed it was bad luck to net a dolphin. Once, we stopped fishing and lost all the salmon catch as well in order to let them go. Some traditions, one way or the other, work for good.
