Commercial Shrimping in Alaska

What I learned about commercial shrimping in Alaska 

NOTE: interesting facts will be in red bold font

Aboard the Hummingbird with Captain Snead (my hubby, John), we departed for our adventure early July 5, after an amazing Seward 4^th of July firework display, parade, mount marathon and a 14^th year wedding anniversary dinner at Ray’s Waterfront where we embarked on our life together (our first date nearly 20 years ago).

Captain John fueling up

 After about a $500 fuel fill up, we were off. We departed Resurrection Bay out into the open Pacific. Weather channel announced 7 foot waves, so we got to see what they looked like and they were big and rolly, sort of like riding on the back of a bull in slow motion. Birds were everywhere: Eagles, Puffins, the Common Murre sort of looked like a mini loon floating out at sea, the Cormorants were magnificent, Gulls everywhere, circling the boat and a few unidentifiable winged species.

icebergs afloat in Icy Bay

We ended up in Icy Bay, half way to Whittier, full of ice berg figures afloat around us. It was sort of like how you can find faces in clouds, these bergs sometimes looked like critters. One that had beached itself on a shoreline looked like a great white bear rummaging around. Did you know that it’s a $2,000 fine if you are found to have any iceberg on your vessel (some have been known to use this as a source of icing their catch)? They carry bacteria that can contaminate food, best not to go this route. Captain Snead brings two large heavy-duty coolers full of an estimated 250 pounds of ice each. Took both of us to guide them onto the boat; notice I didn’t say lift.

The best shrimping is found in Fjords following lateral, medial and terminal underwater moraines* and that exactly what Icy Bay is.  On certain maps you can see these underwater features; pays to know and understand these types of geographical phenomena’s for a successful approach to the trade.

Captain John and his "other" first mate, JC

 After getting the pots rigged and baited with herring we would drop 600 foot of line, to include 5 shrimp pots and a buoy at the tail end. Shrimp are found at depths between 300 and 400 feet. In Alaska the maximum amount of pots you can have is 60; 5 pots to 1 buoy or a buoy on each end of 10 pots. The 5 pots per buoy works for us and I even lightened the load by plowing over one of our lines as John dropped them, tangling it into the propeller which broke the line and I lost us 5 pots of potential product. I believe John gasped the dollar amount of our loss, but in my regret, I immediately let it out of my head and continued with whatever task I had at hand. No worries of the shrimp being trapped forever though, law requires the pots to have a small hole in the nets that is stitched together with a type of string that will break down and release its contents in such events. Yeah, for science.

The shrimp we would pull in would be the large and meaty spotted prawn, which are the common ones found stuffed in restaurants; the sweet tasting coon striped shrimp and an occasional tiny red shrimp fished mostly on the east coast and found in your frozen section of the supermarket.

Shrimping in Alaska can occur only between the hours of 8am to 8pm…thank goodness as I believe John would have had me dropping and pulling pots around the clock. We need to report to Fish and Game everything from when (date and time) we drop and pull, where (latitude and longitude), how many of each species per line and a lot more. John was writing everything down; then when we got home he filled out a report and called all of it into a recording. Helps fish and game to keep them from being obliterated and areas will be shut down to instill rejuvenation of population.

Other items we’d find in the pots were the small tanner crab, jelly fish, baby lingcod, octopus, starfish, sea snails, coral, lots of mud and shells. Because we are out there to shrimp, we keep nothing else and release everything back into the water. The fish, once out of the water, need some assistance. I’d hold them in the water and move them back and forth to get their gills working before they’d swim off.

Critters seen among the tinier ones, when we were in the open ocean on our decent and return was a rock piled up with sea lions, a pair of killer whales, otters and a pod of porpoises sped along our wake for a portion of the trip.

The return was a little more problematic, which can happen in the world beyond land, with the loss of our second engine, we were knocked down to at a creep of 10 mph. Unable to get the weather report, we returned to the open ocean of waves that increased up to 9 feet, which was like riding on a large surf board that would break with the sound similar to thunder as it enveloped the sides of the boat. It only worsened as we approached Resurrection Bay, rain became heavier, we lost visibility of any landscapes and were navigating by compass alone. We needed to remain farther from the coast than usual as the waves were less reckless. We had entered into the open ocean at 4:15 in the afternoon and didn’t see the land markings of Resurrection Bay until 8:00 that evening. It was middle of the morning before our heads met our pillows at home in Anchorage. It made for a long and treacherous journey.

*a mass of rocks and sediment carried down and deposited by a glacier, typically at its edges or extremity.

Circle of Life

I burrow my hands into the nutrient enriched soil, gently raking loosened soil over the delicate roots, being cautious to not damage any meaty earthworms* I come across.

 

As much as I love the earthworm, I too love the robin who comes ­to feast upon them.

 

 

As much as I love the robin, I too love my cats that choose to prey upon them.

 

I do respect the eagle, but I am not fond of them preying upon my four legged furry friends.

It’s a vicious circle; the circle of life, no matter how I look at it.

I respect it.
I understand it.
And I am thankful for it.

I travel not far to my church of worship in my own back yard.

I burrow my naked toes into the cool and tickly grass and take root.

 

 

*My passion for earthworms began in my toddler days when I’d handle them like pets and then placing third in the 7^th grade science fair reporting my finding on the effectiveness of temperature on their heart rate.

Dreamy

I've always believed that whatever I'm lacking in real life, I make up for it through my subconscious in dream. So imagine my surprise when I just awoke to feeling utterly bored and restless. So much so that I was poising a Facebook "send" asking for things to do for the middle aged person.

When in the reality of my real world I'm exhausted. Oh, to be bored with nothing to do, no, the dream was not one I wanted to slip back into. However, I am lacking warm sunshine and a little R&R. Sleep take over and let the dreams begin...sand between my toes, salty smell in my hair...mmm...

What the Cat Coop!

My neighbor asked me why I had built a chicken coop; hence my new structure was dubbed the Cat Coop. Tired of my cats waking me up early to accompany them in the back yard, I built this structure so that they could have constant access with the outside, day and night, all year long, and most importantly, I don’t risk their being lifted by an eagle.



The initial layout of the coop.

 

To remain invisible to the homeowners association, I painted the framed structure with the left over paint from the house, so that is sort of blends in; stretched dark heavy duty wiring over the frame; and then attached three frames together and then to the house with hook and eye latches so that it can be fully or partially taken down.



The steps and bird netting.
 Cat door in window not designed until the second summer.

 

Because there were a lot of strange angles around this part of the house and considering the stretch above the window access, I needed something pliable to top off the roof of this structure. You’ll see in the earlier photos I used a bird netting which draped nicely and was hardly noticeable. Yet, the cats discovered they liked chewing through this and nearly hung themselves a few times. Solution, I used the last of the heavy duty fencing I had to start up and over to begin the roof, bought “chicken” wire to connect it from the heavy duty fencing up to hooks along the outer wall and up over the window. The chicken wire worked out fabulously because it was easy to manipulate into seams to make the necessary angles. It was almost like working with fabric, but then it would keep its shape.

 

Changed the bird netting in for this sturdier and more pliable chicken wire.
You can see here where the bleeding heart bushes are filling in.

To complete this treasure, two steps were placed outside the window that the cats also use as perches and a manipulated cat door to fit the frame of the tiny window. What already existed in the closed in area were two bleeding heart bushes for shade, nice thick cool grass and a hardy harvest of cat nip. They discovered a natural kitty litter spot up under the window's eave which I occasionally need to rake out and replenish with top soil.



Bee hive visible on the left. Cat nip crop in on the far left corner of the coop.
And yes, the cat is on the outside in this pic. They do still get to roam the full back yard,
but only when I can accompany them.

 

The Cat Coop: a perfect and easy solution that has brought peace and happiness to my household.

Fitness Class

Excitement rose in me when I saw that my gym offered a fitness class called: Barre*Fit. Thinking it would be a replica of all the great resistant exercises and stretches I experienced in my years of ballet, I was taken aback when I got there and students were pulling out weights, balls, blocks and yoga mats from buckets in the closet. I thought, what does all of this have to do with a workout at the Barre?

 

I had the same experience years ago when I took an exercise ball class and weights were incorporated. I don’t understand why folks feel the need to incorporate weights into EVERY fitness class offered. Really, it’s not necessary. An ultimate work-out can be mastered with proper resistance and breathing techniques. Though being that it was my first time, I grabbed all the “suggested” paraphernalia I could and set up shop by a mat on the floor.

 

 

 

The class started out with the usual warm-ups and the “grape vine.” Oh, come on, can someone else come up with a more interesting warm-up than the grape vine…? I think the gyms keep this familiarity because they don’t think the zombies who come to their classes can learn anything new.

What followed was a 45 minute work-out that combined yoga-type positions on the mat and barre-type conditioning at the barre, or if there was no room at the barre, a mirror to touch to keep ones balance. Honestly, the exercises were actually creative enough to keep my interest, but I found no real reason to incorporate any of the extra tools apart from the mat and I was plenty sore the next day.

But what bothers me the most about these fitness classes, and I suppose I’m spoiled because of the excellent dance instruction I grew up with, is that the classes seem so superficial. In most cases, the instructors are instructing so they can get a free membership and are actually getting a work-out while they teach. They seem to have absolutely no interest if someone in their class is doing something wrong that could hurt them. I saw so many people trying to figure out the movement with a hit or miss attempt at throwing their back out or pulling a hamstring. The instructor doesn’t even seem to look around to see how people are doing. They are just going through the work-out and yelling out the moves, maybe offering an alternative if the move might be too complicated. That’s it!

Ballet folks, the teacher will tell you the movement with a chosen classmate to do the moves for the students to follow and the teacher will walk around and comment on what you need to do, or what a good extension you have and “use” your name in the process; sometimes even using some hands-on technique to help the student get the idea.

Oh, and the outfits, I had just as good as a work-out in my morning stink, Harley tank top and baggy sweat pants as those girls in the skin tight $300 outfits, freshly washed hair and, no shit, make-up!

 

*Barre – French, literally means bar; a horizontal bar at waist level on which ballet dancers rest a hand for support during exercise.