Page 46 of Weathering The Storm

In a different day and age, taking home forty percent of our quota shares in three weeks would be nothing to scoff at, butlast year the fishery closed over a month early when the total allowable catch was harvested well before the January deadline. It could easily happen again, and that’s all a part of what goes into playing the game out here.

Fish old spots and hope the populations haven’t shifted since the last season, or take a risk on fishing somewhere new?

Make your way around the Aleutian Islands, hoping to make your catch near the harbor, or venture out into colder, more remote waters?

I’m sure some people would assume I only took over the ship because I was groomed for it. This is the business I was born into, and that’s how plenty of people come by their purpose around here. Less an occupation than a birthright.

But I remember sitting up in the bridge with my dad whenever he’d pull out the maps and put together a strategy for the day, the week, the season. The way he automatically made adjustments for the volatile tides, the winds, the weather, the crew, the animals. The migration patterns of different species and the way the environment has changed andbeenchanged by us.

I wanted to thinklike him more than I wanted to drive the boat or operate the machinery. From the time I was a boy, I had the fisherman’s screw loose in my head.

We all keep casting lines and setting traps to test our luck, even though we know damn well that luck is the most impossible test to pass.

As it stands, the forecast is clear, so we continue tracking toward the heart of Bristol Bay in search of new grounds. We’re about 220 nautical miles east-north-east of St. Paul when we finally strike gold on another hotspot. Ten to twenty legal males per pot. The kind of numbers that make all the lost sleep worth it.

It makes it a little easier to say bye to Seth before each shift, too, knowing that the sooner we hit quota, the sooner we can both break for a few months. Even if I’m still not exactly sure what we’re going to do when we’re back on dry land.

I’m too old for this whole dating thing, and somehow too inexperienced for it as well. How much of his time am I allowed to ask for? Things between us are too new for me to want all of it, aren’t they?

All I know is that I love the thought of getting to know him outside of theSuoja.Holing up in my cabin for the winter. Playing darts and watching movies until I learn all his favorites. Staying in bed late… or never leaving it at all.

When the weather warms, we could go fishing just for fun, for the love of nature. Sleep out under the stars and cook something we caught over a fire.

I think about it a lot. I’m thinking about it now, while I’m watching him work from the wheelhouse. Sleeves rolled up, no face or head coverings, because the mid-afternoon sun is shining and the sea is silken.

If not for the frost around the edges of the window panes and the cold emanating from the glass, the weather outside would almost tempt you into believing it’s spring.

If not for the radio broadcast that crackles through, it would almost be enough to make you forget what this environment is capable of.

“…This is the National Weather Service forecast for the Eastern Bering Sea and Bristol Bay. 1200 Alaska Standard Time. Gale warning in effect for the Alaska Peninsula. Storm warning in effect for the Unimak Pass zone.

“A low-pressure system currently centered approximately 380 miles west-northwest of Dutch Harbor is tracking southeast at ten knots. North Bristol Bay: Northwest winds twenty to thirty knots, seas eight-to-twelve feet. Conditions steady.

“South Bristol Bay: Northwest winds thirty-five to forty-five knots. Seas fourteen to eighteen feet, building to twenty-two to twenty-eight feet into tomorrow afternoon…”

Storm season’s in full swing, it sounds like. I’m glad we’re managing to stay off the course of this one, but there will undoubtedly be others behind it.

I glance down at the GPS, finding the spot on the bright blue where the system must be ripping through right now. More than far enough for us to keep fishing.

Still, never far enough away for comfort.

“I’m thinking we’ll hunt up here over the next couple of days,” I tell Seth, outlining our grounds with my index finger over the navigation screen. “Don’t want to push any further south and get caught up in all that nasty weather blowing in. We can haul pots after the storm clears, do some drops closer to Nunivak. Depending on numbers, maybe offload at Dutch. Try our more tucked-away spots around the islands and hope they haven’t been hit too hard yet.”

“Sounds like a good plan... that we can go over later.” Seth grabs me by my wrists, dragging me up from my chair and planting a kiss on my lips. “Go on. I don’t wanna see you until oh-five-hundred. You’ve been at the wheel for the last twenty hours.”

He spins me toward the steps that lead down into the captain’s quarters right when Perry comes up from the crew mess.

“Hey, Captain.” He nods at both of us, pulling his balaclava off over his head.

I nod back. “What’s going on?”

“I know it’s time for me to be off soon, but I was wondering if I could switch my break. I’m not really tired yet.”

“Are you sure? Does one of the other guys need to rest?”

“Oh, no sir. Actually, I was gonna ask Seth if he wanted to switch.”

He uncaps a bottle of false naivety and dumps itallinto the smile he gives us.