Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25121
ng wit you've caug quic ieved of a navigator post I had obtained by fa iling to inform the pper that I didn't know how to read either a chart or a Global ning System device, I discovered via terse bursts of instructions new job. I was to take hold of each sockeye salmon-a beautiful, istening, two-foot long fish on the average, the ruby of salmon b-species-pull it out of the net, pounce on it, and ram a knife nto its gills while twisting firmly before throwing it into the tig fish collection bags in the hold below. I did this. Then, after the set, I was to hop into the hold and pack the st batch of "bled" fish with ice, which filled a compartment in he stern side of the hold. There was no scooper for this, so I used a T"",,,-nV.-Tnur. I did it lovingly, as I would want any fish preparer to. ·s was the aspect of my job for which I was most praised at th of the opener, which refers to the window of time during which he Alaska Department of Fish and Game allows commercial fishing a particular species. Then, covered in gore, I climbed out of th d and was handed a lit cigarette by the mate, who was increas ngly bearing a resemblance to Chewbacca, in both appearan nd language. We did about six relaxed sets during the 12-hour opener. In ition to that, we had about seven hours of total travel time and ral more of just waiting. The boat, as predicted, wound up board ing enough sockeye salmon to break even that day, after gas co and before the mate's take. Or, looking at it as though commercial fish ing were a cash economy, the skipper made about $4/hour, if you don't count nets, the days of boat maintenance leading up to the opener, nor clean-up time after sell ing the fish to the processor. I did n't once hear my skipper moan about prices, about expensive net tears arguably caused by me, about anything. The conclusion for the 64 skippers who keep at it in Cook Inlet is thus easily deduced: they can't not fish . And, after only one perfectly calm, meteorologically-idea l and thus extremely unusual day, I'm beginning to see why. At one point in the dazzling afternoon I was standing, yelling at a sea lion who was treating our net like a self-serve bar. The sea lion swam under turquoise water which, were it not for the incongruity of visi ble glaciers on the west side of the inlet, could be equita bly compared to some of the more pristine shelves of the Caribbean. At this moment I thought, "Is this where I want to be, after what they tell me is 28 solar years on this planet? " ng my sun burned lips and taking a silly mascu line pr ide in my bruised, bl is hands. "I'm worki ng, physically and mentally, I'm responsi ble gathering my own food, and I'm in good, if Lucas-derived, com pany." With these skil ls, I could survive in epochs ranging from the Ice Age to the Wireless Age. And, as many Alaskans like to point these are ski lls that could have quite a premium renaissance in increasingly likely event that people stop believing in the illu of credit economy. Alaskans discuss these issues seriously. I rea lized at the end of the opener-as the skipper passed cs of my delicately packed and now stone-dead premium fish up to bib-wearing wage slaves of the processors-there is a big differ ence, between seeing the world economy with your own eyes and hearing NPR intone to you what the experts say about it from behind wall s of think ta nks and investment firms. The cheap Chilean farm salmon are in American supermarkets. The Russian market is opening for the first time in a century. There are fewer fish here. There are more options for buyers. Hmmm. Now, I'm no economist .... As a friend of mine, who is married to a fisherman who made it big and built a house in an exclusive part of the wilderness, once pointed out: "One day this harrowing and dangerous life will be marketed to adventure tourists for sure. n I thought about the pitch: "Come pay for a ride over 30- foot crests in the frigid Arctic waters off Alaska. Survive and it's all the pollock you can eat .... " It may just work. It's the only way this industry is going to survive. Sheraton International? Disney? Are you listening?