Wednesday, July 24, 2013

How to Fuel an 18 Hour Day of Fish Throwing

Begin by waking up in a hurry to meet the boat pulling up downstairs. Shove whatever food you can find into your mouth before you start pitching fish. This is usually a granola bar, peanut butter and bread, or a bowl of cereal. The food is more important as a base to get the all important Vitamin I (ibuprofen) because your entire body hurts from the past month of working in a fish house. Coffee is the next most important step. No matter how many fish the boat downstairs has, someone must always stay behind to provide caffeine to wake us all up from our 5 hours of sleep. Meals throughout the rest of the day vary from elaborate dishes of fish put together by or loving manager, Celeste...or they are replaced by whatever snacks you can grab every 30 minutes. Sometimes a handful of peanuts, wheat thins, or ritz crackers. Sometimes anything with sugar. Lots of sugar. Candy bars, baked goods, chocolate. So much sugar. I'm a little worried about going through withdrawal when I leave. But, for now, its quick energy and great for late nights and no time. When more calories are needed we fuel up with microwave cheese burgers and burritos. I even learned that Costco makes lasagna that can be microwaved (something discovered when we ran out of propane for the stove).

There are times when I wish I could take better care of my body, but when working for 15 to 18 hours, there's no time to make a nice salad...much less a sandwich. I have learned to love peanut butter more than I thought possible and accepted my constant craving of sugar. I have come to accept anything that will allow me to push my body to crazy limits.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

A Day in the Life of a Scow Girl

I would like to start by saying that there is no average day in the life if a scow girl (a fact I have finally learned after almost 3 weeks and countless questions). I have already written about the days of  waiting. These usually begin with waking up casually when my body tells me to. I enjoy those mornings, but struggle with the cabin fever and I tend not to be the most patient person. Especially when it involves waiting until 10:30pm, when we are allowed to scrub and close down shop. Lately I have taken to watching our resident bear comb the beach (the very close beach). Today, I named him Paddington.

And then there are those other days...

They tend to begin by waking up to my roomies/coworkers/buddies stomping around because there's a boat outside. This causes a panicked rush to put on some fish clothes and hop downstairs and greet fishermen who have been up far longer than I have. Someone is given the all important task of brewing coffee while the other two shove food in their faces and start pitching fish. I am given three choices for jobs: pusher, grader, and icer. As pusher I slide fish up the tray to the grader, who tells me what type of salmon they are looking for. Generally this is small Coho, meaning anything below seven pounds. I'm proud of my new ability to recognize the difference and am accurate within a half pound. I actually get kind of excited about this job because I get to rush around and take on other tasks as well. Graders are next in line, weighing the fish that come down the line and passing them onto the icer, who is given the all important job of throwing fish in totes, chopping ice, and icing the bellies of so many fish. Some of which are poisonous and pokey. This role tends to be competing with the pusher and grader in a hectic race to keep the tray clean. Now...do all of this for 18 hours.  And then remember that it will never be that smooth because nothing here is normal. Generators break down, you run out of propane (which heats your water, allows you to cook, and do laundry), there is an ice shortage, people get sick...or the line on your hoist comes dangerously close to breaking. At several points throughout the day you utilize what my friend has aptly named an Emergency Dance Party and bust a move to the playlist you have been listening to for the last 19 days because the satellite radio doesn't work. These dance parties are made all the more special when covered in fish scales, sweat, fish blood, your blood, and slime. Best dance club ever!

At the end of the day, when you don't care that you just splashed yourself in the face with bleach water, you patiently wait for fishermen and deck hands to finish using the shower so you can scrub clean and feel refreshed until it all starts again in 5 hours.

Monday, July 8, 2013

The Cursed Words of Scow Life

After working three days of twelve, sixteen, and eighteen hours, I have learned several things. One: my body is capable of so much more than I thought possible. Two: don't say the "s" word (skiff), "h" (hot tub), or the "n" word (nap). These words were responsible for two of the last long days, making me understand silent appreciation of down time. We avoid acknowledging what is on everyones minds for fear that it will trigger an approaching boat looking to sell more fish. Putting our tired hands and arms back to work. Which brings me back to point number one. Yes...my hands, wrists, and arms are swollen after throwing and icing king salmon for 18 hours with only 4 hours of sleep...but the fact that I was able to keep going at the end of a hellish few days is a testament to what our bodies are able to withstand. Don't get me wrong, I was exhausted, yet I going myself picking up giant fish after giant fish until we finished unloading the last boat at 2:30 am. A boat with over 1,000 salmon. That boat took 3 hours with four people. And there were moments when I wondered, "What the hell am i doing?" Examples include, hanging over a tote half full if ice and fish as I'm soaked in water, fish blood, slime, and sweat; pushing 150+ pound totes over other totes by myself in the dark and rain on a rocky scow a foot from the freezing water. Somehow, I love it! And I take a good amount of pride in knowing that I was a part of the crew that took in nearly 30,000 pounds of fish in one day. Let's see what else this body is capable of!

Friday, July 5, 2013

Barrier After Barrier

I am finishing day seven of scow life and beginning to understand the warnings I was given. My fore arms, wrists, and hands are swollen and starting to tingle. I got four hours of sleep last night after working 16+ hours throwing fish around. The two days before were 12 and 15 hour work days. Luckily today was a slow day and I found a few hours to nap...only to be told by my boss that yesterday was maybe half as bad as it's going to get. Oh, joy! The next two days should be an eye opener as the King Salmon window closes and everyone will be selling fish they've been catching for days. Fish that weigh anywhere from 8-30+ pounds. Which is great...except when you are lifting, weighing, pushing, and throwing them onto trays and into giant totes then packing them full of ice. All day for two days. I hit a mental road block at least once a day and ask myself over and over again why I'm here. Why am I doing this to myself? What am I trying to prove? And honestly I don't really know. But, I get past each barrier and find myself loving the moment. I'm not sure how long I will be fighting these daily battles. I do know that they make the down time of guitar playing, hot tubbing, and chatting with fishermen and women just a little more amazing. So, for now, I will enjoy a soak in the hot tub to prepare for the long haul. I just have to remind myself...it gets better...and I am getting stronger everyday.