Almost Unbearable

09/12/2007

1643

The smell on the boat this week is almost unbearable. It reminds me of living in an half-empty tuna can that has been used to clean out kitty’s litter box and then left to bake in the Nevada sun for 36 hours…suffice to say, it’s gross and I am having trouble suppressing my gag reflex. My only respite comes at meal time, when the good smells coming from the galley overwhelm the nastiness permeating the rest of the boat. This is probably the first time in my life that I have ever hoped for a sinus infection.

In other news, there’s only about a week and half left until I am due in Seattle for debriefing.

Hello, Doorframe

09/11/2007

0530

When there is no storm, the waves make me angry. The constant rocking back and forth can be very irritating. Especially when you are trying to sit still and read a book. Imagine trying to sit still in inside a human-sized hamster ball that is rolling around on the floor. Plus, when you attempt to walk, you cannot help but walk straight into things…

“Hello, wall.”

“Hello, pole.”

“Hello, doorframe.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

It’s like being fall-down drunk while your mind is fully aware of the fact that you have no control over your legs. Plus, when you think that the floor is moving out from under you, most likely it is really moving out from under you. I’m clumsy enough without these things happening!

That said, the waves transcend from anger-inducing to fear-inducing when there is a storm. My ever-present fear that the boat will suddenly decide to stop floating seems a little less silly when the winds have us under siege.

Final thought: big scary storms seem a lot bigger and a lot scarier out at sea. Now, I’ve got to go. I’m being dive-bombed by my toiletries as they fall from the top bunk.

Will Reek Like Fish

09/10/2007

1618

Today marks the one week anniversary of me putting on this outfit. Same sweats, same shirt for seven straight days. (I do change underwear and socks after showers.) I try to pretend that I don’t smell, but that’s not very likely. Thing is, living on a fishing boat does not do anything for one’s hygiene. In all likelihood, I and everything I own will reek like fish until I can make it back to the lower 48 and give everything a proper bath.

So I just let it be.

Hang loose.

Don’t fight it, y’know.

Home Baked Delights

09/06/2007

1051

Currently there is a basket of homemade chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter in the galley. Yet, I feel like I am running a scam every time that I one. That’s probably because these home baked delights were carefully baked, packaged, and mailed by the women who care about the fishermen on this boat. Ostensibly, I’m not doing anything wrong: the men are always setting out the sweets and treats from home to be shared by all on the boat. Still, I wonder… Would the wives be upset to know that the goods intended for their men are being consumed by another woman? Do they get jealous of the females that their husbands see on a regular basis? Are they jealous of me?

I wonder.

Would you be jealous of me?

Hosing Down My Gear

09/01/2007

0820

I have two choices when it comes to hosing down my gear. There are a set of deck hoses near my workspace that are good for washing away all of the fish slime, scales, and guts after I’m finished sampling. These are high-powered hoses that blast away all of the yuck in a matter of seconds. Then there is a simple garden-variety water hose with a spray nozzle all the way at the opposite end of the boat that we mostly use for hosing off our boots and rain gear before going inside. Using this option takes up significantly more time as I have to take all of my gear down to that end of the boat and slowly wash off all the grime.

My decision is usually not my own. I can never properly harness the power of the deck hose and always lose control of it, which means getting blasted in the face with cold salt water (if I’m lucky) and/or fish scales and slime (if I’m not lucky). There are other days that I don’t even try and simply drag all of my gear to the feeble water hose for a low-key wash down.

Okay, my assessment was incorrect. The decision is always my own, but it’s never a simple question of using the powerful deck hose or the weak garden hose. It’s the image of the deck hose standing up on end asking, “Do you feel lucky, punk?”

Sleeping Through Supper

08/31/2007

0612

Every evening for the past three days, the fishermen have carefully put together a plate of food that they think might tempt the elusive observer to eat. The observer has taken notice of their feeble attempts to bait her out of her nest and looks with disdain upon all meals laced with beef. The roasted chicken is the only bait that has succeeded so far. Otherwise the observer has only been observed nibbling on fruit, honey nut cheerios, almonds, and pomegranate limeade in the early hours of the morning. (Not surprising, given that the observer’s hibernation cycle currently has her sleeping through supper.)

Not What You Write

08/29/2007

1403

For aspiring writers, watching movies and reading books should be a very inspirational activity. There is so much junk floating around out there that the semi-talented person has to think, “I could do better than that!” just by watching movie previews and floating around used bookstores. It really makes me wonder what kind of material has not gotten a green light from movie producers and publishing execs. I should write an angry letter of protest.

Conversely, perhaps this is also a reason to be disheartened. Maybe it all boils down not what you write, but who you know….

My Sleep Habits

08/26/2007

0201

“Do you ever sleep?” – where haven’t I heard that before?

The most recent inquisition comes from the man who pilots the boat during the nighttime hours (aka the mate), and the answer is still a resounding “Yes.” despite the cries of the many people who believe otherwise. My sleep habits are just very different than the average person’s. Borderline bizarre, yes, but they certainly do exist. Can I help it if I usually don’t get tired until 20+ hours have passed? Or that my creative brain is most active between the hours of midnight and 7a? Do other people not have things to do that take precedence over sleep?

On land my life is different. I feel an obligation to be awake during certain hours of the day, so I impose a strict wake-up time of 10a on myself…even if I didn’t go to bed until 5 or 6 that morning (which happens quite a bit when I’m working intently on a project and don’t realize what time it is until the sun comes up). While I’m out here, I can take 3-5 hour naps when I start feeling sleepy, which (as it turns out) is not such a bad way to live.

Keep your fascist sleep regimes to yourself. A democracy rules within my cells…

Fish Body To Flop

08/25/2007

2146

Today I discovered an area of the fish brain that will cause the corresponding fish body to flop when pinched with forceps. It was an accidental and somewhat surprising discovery. I was cutting into a brain case, harvesting an otolith, when I accidentally pinched this part. The dead fish jumped out of my hand! You should have seen my face. It was a scary moment…akin to the time when I thought that a fish was trying to bite my finger off. Can’t trust the oily little beasts…

Not Reduced To Bucket Hygiene

08/23/2007

2125

Haha – the joke was on me when the water went out in the middle of my shower, shampoo still on hair. Fortunately, the chief engineer was able to save the day (or at least the water pressure) once I alerted the skipper to the tiny problem of no water, no water pressure.

I’m just glad that we’re not reduced to bucket hygiene and sanitation. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then be glad of the fact. Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answers to.)