Sunset On The Bering

My favorite time of day is just before the sun sets on the water. From the deck I can see the golden light that dips below the grey clouds and touches the navy waters to turn them turquoise. The golden-crested swells roll relentlessly as the vessel topples over each one. They play an endless game of hide and seek with the horizon. The sparse rays of dwindling sunlight shine over the moving swells, onto the rails, and through each droplet of water clinging to the net.

Sunset at sea could be anywhere. Without land, boats, or birds I can imagine I’m home, only just out of sight of Catalina, or that I’m visiting far away foreign waters in Asia or Antarctica, or even, that I’m on another planet entirely, with alien creatures lying in wait below the surface. It is familiar and not, it’s exciting and boring, frightening and comforting. It is a blank slate upon which you can only project your own emotions.

In this ever-expanding desert of water, I find comfort in knowing and experiencing an untamed wilderness.


Took this photo out the back of the wheelhouse window a few weeks ago.



Eat, Sleep and Dream Fisheries

Location: Seattle, WA

Temp: 48F

Commercial fishery observers can be out at sea for a maximum of 90 days, it's in our contract. What they don't tell you is that 90 days of isolation is the point at which all previous studies pretty much agree that you will go crazy; really, actually, clinically insane. So naturally they structure the training course to simulate that. It must be working too, for the past few days I have had some over the top bat-crap-crazy dreams. Compounded by the fact that I hardly ever dream at all, I have been thinking twice about what I eat or read before going to bed. 

The first few dreams were your average-grade odd-balls, like talking to fish, wandering on the beach with nowhere to go, or ending up in the "I'm on a boat" SNL music video. But last night's dream takes the crazy-cake. It started off in Long Beach Harbor with my day camp, (fun fact: I used to direct a day camp!) on the harbor cruise tour boat. It was an enjoyable field trip, until I spotted a very large orca (killer whale) charging right at us. The whale was pissed and coming for us. Obviously everyone looks at me, the marine biologist, to do something ... so I do the first thing that comes to mind,  I jump in the water. Oh yeah, my subconscious is a bad-ass apparently. I swim towards the shore to distract the whale, while hopefully getting help, because dreams contain no logic and no cell phones. I looked back and all the sudden the tour boat is now a sinking school bus! So I sprint back to them. (I wish I could swim in real-life like I swam last night.) I dove down to save the kids from the sinking bus, in the middle of the harbor. The orca, obsessed with the bus, dove down to spoon with it as it sank to the bottom of the harbor, which apparently was several fathoms deep (60-70ft). When I arrived on shore all the kids broke out their lunch pales for snack time. Problem solved. No biggie. And the best part was that I didn't really see anything out of the ordinary until I woke up thinking "Why was there an orca in Long Beach Harbor?" 

When my alarm went off this morning, I leaned over the mattress to turn it off and found my marine mammal interaction reports laying on the floor. I had fallen asleep right after finishing them. I figure at least I'm sleeping well enough to dream, and getting in some good marine mammal identification practice. It's official, I now eat, sleep, and dream fisheries management.