LUCKY TO BE ALIVE

  My wife and I watched as the big blow hit town. The weather service was calling for 40 knot blows out on the ocean. "Should have the commercial fleet scurrying to town," I commented

Little did we know the drama that was unfolding at that time on the ocean just a short 20 miles from our comfortable house.

  One of my friends who charters, dives, and dabbles in commercial trolling was, at that very time fighting for his life.

  Stonie (we call him Mac) and his deck hand, 19 year old Ryan were trolling off Cape Edgecumbe when the weather blew up. They knew the forecast, but due to some problems with the troll gear delayed their run

to town. Once they got things squared away the wind was pushing some large waves into their path to town.

  They were fishing out of Macs 28 foot bow picker aluminum boat, the Kaitlin Rae.

  As the wind pushed the rollers into breakers, they battled their way into the growing sea. They took a big wave over the bow filling the front to the house in an instant.

The boat started foundering only to be hit in the stern by another huge wave. The boat rolled over before they could get a Mayday call on the radio. They tried getting their survival suits out but the boat

sank out from under them. It was about 1:00 pm Friday.

  One of the fish totes from the boat floated by and the two men swam to it. Mac helped Ryan get into the tote but could not get himself up over the three foot side himself. He found a tote lid nearby and clung to that

Then a fortunate stroke of fate happened, one of the survival suits became dislodged from the sunken boat and floated to the surface near Mac. He was able to swim over and retrieve it.

  As the waves reached 8 foot in height, and the wind howled, the two became separated. As they drifted apart Ryan shouted to Mac, "We're not going to die here!"

  Mac was able to get into the survival suit in the water, not an easy task in a calm swimming pool, let alone a raging ocean with wind tossed waves.

  The long drift had begun. No one was aware of their problems until they did not return home that evening. At midnight the families declared an emergency and called the coast guard. A rescue helicopter was dispatched to the general area the men were supposed to be fishing. They could be anywhere.

  Daylight Saturday a massive hunt was underway. Sitka's search and rescue was called upon, troopers were out as well as the fishing fleet and the coast guard in their choppers.

  I received a call from my friend, Scott, saying Mac was in trouble. I turned on my radio and we listened for hours as the search continued.

  Our thoughts were that no one could survive that long in the water. If they made it to the beach they might have a chance, if there were no hungry bears getting to them first.

  After 24 hours a trooper boat spotted someone on the beach waving his arms. Mac! He had drifted from the corner of the cape to Point Amelia, about 12 nautical miles.

  Some 26 hours after the boat went down one of the fishing boat happened upon a floating fish tote. The captain of the Nerka motored up to it with high hopes only to find it empty. He scanned the sea again to see another fish tote floating... this one had a young man waving frantically from inside it! The captain contacted the coast guard chopper and they swooped over to pluck a freezing Ryan up to safety.

Ryan had drifted about 17 nautical miles straining to keep the tote floating upright in the raging waves. His hands were blistered and he could hardly straighten his legs from the long strain.

  I am so thankful these two good men survived.

  Living on the ocean is fraught with danger. We all face it on a daily basis. One can never take the ocean for granted. You must respect its raging power.

  A happy ending to a harrowing ordeal.

  We all breathed a, "thank you Lord", when we heard the chopper pilot radio com center Juneau with the report, "Roger Juneau, we have the survivor on board and are heading to Sitka Air station."

Drop By Visitors

  It seems rude nowadays to perform a drop by visit on someone, as used to be common in days gone by. Now one must call, e-mail, or text to obtain "permission" to stop by and see someone. Kind of sad, in my opinion, as those used to be some of the best visits one could have.

  Things are very different on the ocean. Drop by visits are common, and most of the time welcome. The interesting part of the drop by visits is that you never know who or what your visitor will be.

  I was sitting here trying to think of all the visitors we had around the boat this summer. Of course, the big whales come to mind first. They seem to get your attention by bellowing out a monstrous plume of air and water... hard to ignore. Killer Whales are not as boisterous, but also get your attention right away. When you see a six foot tall fin cut through the wave, you tend to take notice.

Sea Lions seem to be constant visitors, but they are certainly not a welcome guest, as they are looking for something on your hook they can steal for an easy meal.

  We had a little seal pup come around the boat for a curious look, but he did not give us time to film him before heading back to his hiding place in the kelp.

  Then there are the birds. Each day I drop the hook to anchor for halibut the birds come. Sometimes it will be one lonely bird, but most of the time they swarm around the boat hoping for scraps and kibbles to eat. The clients and I really enjoy these drop by visitors. We have the usual gulls, terns, one day a frigate bird, murres, storm petrels, shearwaters, fulmars, and the graceful flying albatross.

  I must say the albatross is one of my favorite visitors. They are a friendly bird and come right next to the boat.

When an albatross takes flight off the ocean he must run on the water to gain speed. It looks like a big B52 bomber lumbering down a runway gaining air speed to fly.

Once the albatross is in the air it transform into the most graceful glider you have ever seen. The spread their long wings and skim the ocean surface with a wing tip

just caressing its surface. Even in rough ocean these wonderful birds can skim the surface and never crash into a steep cresting wave.

Albatross are some of the worst begging birds in the ocean. They will sit at the back of the boat for hours on end hoping for a scrap of fish meat.

The albatross will not eat the guts of fish. I have tossed them out into the ocean and the big birds lunge on them, sample them, then spit them out. They always

then wash their beaks out in the ocean as if to say,"yuck, why did you toss that stuff out!"

  Albatross are meat eaters. They can eat a floating rock fish in no time at all. the big beak rips meat apart in a hurry.

  One day this summer we had our usual gathering of birds doing their drop in visits, when a client commented, "Hey look, one of these big birds has a band on his leg."

  sure enough an albatross was wearing a bright band on his leg. I grabbed my camera and snapped a few photos trying to get a close up to read the band number.

I'm sure the birds are banded on the nesting grounds north of us for some type of research.

  As we watched the banded bird we soon realized that he was banded on both legs.

  I snapped a few more pictures and then it was back to fishing.

  I am always thankful for the drop by visitors on the ocean, but when I really think about it, I am more thankful for the drop by, unannounced visits from friends. It  does not bother me at all. If we are too busy to take time for friends, then we really need to reorganize our lives and make room for a friendly visit every once in a while.

A SPLASH OF COLOR

                Rain. It seemed this summer was made of rain. Each day started with pouring rain, but ususally settled into a mist or just a drizzle.
Soggy attitudes seemed to develop among the guides as days of rain turned into months.
  Out on the ocean there are only three colors during the rain, sky gray, mountain gray, and ocean gray. Each has a little different shade of gray.
  It is now August and still the rain continues. The clients and I finish a good morning of salmon fishing and I drop the hook (anchor) for halibut.
I quickly clean the slamon, using the salmon guts and gills for halibut bait.
  Each client drops a baited hook to the bottom in hopes of a halbut.
  I am inside the cabin filling out the log book for the morning salmon fishing when I hear a client exclaim, "Look at this bird!"
I glance out the window and there is a beautiful splash of color bobbing on the ocean behind the boat.
  "It's a Puffin," I exclaim.
  The little puffin is very close to the boat diving for the needle fish I had washed out the scuppers when I cleaned the salmon.
We all race for our cameras and click away. The little puffin seems to know he is the star of the show.
The rain is now forgotton as we ooh and ahh over his majestic head color.
  It always amazes me how one little splash of color can turn a drippy seeming summer into something bright.
  The clients and I chat about the little bird all the way back to the dock.
  If your world seems three shades of grey, look around for that one little splash of color. It sure can brighten your life.

Fireweed Signals The End of Summer

We are blessed in Alaska to have a beautiful wild flower (weed to the locals) which blooms during the beginning of August.

The fireweed blooms in a strange way. It starts with purple flowers at the bottom and slowly progresses to the top. Day after day

we can pass by the fireweed patches and observe the steady progression of the blooms.

  The sad part of the fireweed bloom is that once the purple blooms reach the top summer is over. It is kind of like the opposite

of the ball in New York dropping on New Year's night.

  Right now it is the second week of August and the fireweed has reached half of its march to the top. As August draws to its

close the fireweed blossoms will also reach their end and both close out as the weather of fall descends on Alaska.

  The weather forecasts start leaning towards more extreme winds, much more rain, and the front’s descend in much closer secessions.

  Summer is drawing to a close and the beautiful fireweed signals its farewell in a grand salute.

Surprises

  Every time I think I've seen it all the ocean throws another surprise at me. Today it came while fishing for king salmon.
I dropped the troll gear to 200 feet deep skimming the bottom, when the line snapped out of the downrigger clip. One of the clients raced to the rod and the battle began. The King made an aggressive run burning line off the reel. I was busy clearing the other side
and getting the downriggers out of the way. Jobs done I gave my attention to the struggling client. The big king was now fighting straight below the boat. It did not run, but rather, just seemed like a huge heavy weight bending the rod completely over.
  The client worked and worked on the big king. At last we could see a glimer of king salmon silver slowly coming out of the deep.
  I had the net ready. Something was not looking right. The king was coming up head first with its tail pointing at the bottom of the ocean.
  Kings normally run in long, line stripping lunges. This King just hung straight up.
  Suddenly I realized what I was looking at. A big ling cod had a death grip on the King's tail.
  "You've got a Ling cod hanging on your King," I shouted to the client.
  We all stood in amazement as the pair of fish came out of the depths and into net range.
 I knew I only had one chance to get both fish into the net. One touch of the net on the ling cod and I knew it would quickly release its death grip and head back to the bottom.
 I drove the net deep under the pair and surprisingly came up with both of them.
  We danced around the boat hi fiving each other.
  The King was a keeper but the ling cod was too large under Alaska law and had to be released, after some great pictures.
I love the great surprises the ocean gives to those living the wild life.

Tangled but Triumphant

Once again we were halibut fishing. I had the clients in deep water, over 500 feet.
We had a couple nice keepers on board but were still looking for one more to finish off the day's limit.
  One of the rods snapped down and bowed under the weight of a heavy fish. My youngest client was manning the rod and leapt into action reeling as hard as he could to set the hook.
  After the hook set he began the battle of inches to gain line back on the reel. He would crank a little and the fish would take a lot.
You can tell a big fish almost as soon as it is hooked. The throb on the rod tip is enormous. A little halibut bounces the rod tip in small dips. A big halibut will telegraph a couple feet pull down each time the big fish throbs his tail. I knew this was a big fish.
  The young client would reel the fish twenty feet or so off the bottom, only to have the monster burn line off the drag and race right back down.
The battle had begun.
  Quite some time later the big fish was nearly half way to the surface and things were going well. The young client was pacing himself so he did not burn his arms out reeling in the fish.
  I still had the other clients lines out, as most big halibut are not in our slot limit and must be released once we determine they are not quite over the 68 inches required to be a legal keeper halibut.
  At last the big fish was nearing the surface. I had the line in my hands and was slowly hand over hand bringing it up for our first look. I felt a big throb on the line and knew it was going to make a run.
  "Hang on, it's going to run," I shouted to the client. He braced himself on the rail of the boat and just held on to the rod for dear life.
Line was burning off the reel as the big fish made a run.
Pow! The 90 pound braid line parted. The client fell back as the strain snapped off the rod.
  "No!" I shouted, "It broke the line!"
  Very rarely do I ever have a fish break the line. I have the drags set so that does not happen.
 I was consoling the young man when the clients on the other side of the boat said they had fish on their lines. I went over to assist. Sure enough both rods were throbbing in the usual big fish pattern. Something did not look right. Both of their lines went toward the bow of the boat and merged together. There should be about nine feet between lines, not a triangle look of the lines coming together.
  I raced to the bow of the boat to see where the anchor line was. It was right under the boat where the two lines seemed to be heading.
  "Oh no," I moaned. "That fish ran around all the other lines, around the anchor line, and then snapped off." I grabbed the anchor line and could feel the big fish throbbing on it.
  I raced back to the clients to inform them.
  "We have one option here," I told them. "We are going to have to pull the anchor by hand until we get to the tangle. I'm sure the big fish will break the line before we get to it, but  we have to try."
  I took the young man and one other client to the bow with me and we began heaving the heavy anchor line by hand. We would, all three in unison, "heave" and I would cleat off the line gained.
The next heave and cleat.
  At last I looked down and saw the tangle of lines around the anchor line, and a huge halibut still hanging as well!
  I raced back to the deck and retrieved a shark hook tied to a long line, and my trusty gaff hook.
  Back up front I informed the two guys that once we tried to lift the big fish out of the water to try and shark hook it, it would go crazy and probably break the line, but that was our only option.
  We slowly heaved the anchor line until the big fish's head broke surface. Sure enough, he went crazy. The line held. I grabbed the line with the gaff and the big fish lunged ripping the gaff out of my hand.
"Quick, get the net and catch my gaff," I shouted to the young man. He retrieved the net and made a great snag on the gaff.
"Now I need a knife from the bait bucket," I pleaded.
I was lying on my belly reaching over the bow pulpit as far down off the bow of the boat as I could. When the knife arrived I lifted the big fish up and got the shark hook into its jaw. "Now the knife!"
 I cut all the tangled line and finally had the fish free of the anchor line.
 We battled the fish all the way to the back of the boat and then brought it on board. What a giant. Stretching a tape on it, it measured 72.5 inches, booking out at about 200 pounds.
  I had to go back and free the other three lines from the anchor line by cutting and splicing, but knowing we had saved the big fish for the young man was well worth it.
 With our final fish on board we high-fived and headed for town.

Killer Whales

 Another great day was coming to an end. The clients chatted about catching fish as I motored the boat past St. Lazaria Island towards Shoals Point.
  St. Lazaria is quite an island. It is a nesting ground for many of the sea birds that are in our area. Puffins nest in the grass on the topside of the island. Murres nest on the cliff sides of the big caves on the west end of the island. Thick green grass covers the rocks up to tree line. The thick
Sitkan trees take over and squeeze out the grass on the top of the rock pile.
  I looked ahead and noticed something flash in the water ahead. "Probably a log or some kelp," I thought to myself, concentrating a little more.
  A huge fin sliced out of the water and into the air.
  "Killer Whale!" I shouted.
  More fins broke surface. We had a family of whales headed our way.
  I dropped the throttles into neutral, letting the boat settle quietly to rest.
  Everyone grabbed cameras and crowded the rail.
The big whales came right at us like we were just part of their great ocean.
  There was a big finned bull, a smaller finned cow, and a very small finned calf.
  "A family group of Orcas," I commented to the clients as they clicked picture after picture as the whales broke surface.
  The whales cruised just a few yards away from our drifting boat, never breaking stride in their rhythm of swim, blow, swim and blow.
  "What an incredible sight" one of the clients commented.
I totally agreed. As much time as I spend on the ocean and see such amazing sights, I still never tire of seeing whales, birds, otters, sea lions, and most of all, killer whales.
  As we approached town we all agreed that we had been blessed with one of the most amazing sights of Alaska.