Stable and Healthy

I've never been a big fisher. I never really understood fishing, honestly. When I think of fishing, I imagine sitting on a bank of a pond somewhere in the booneys sipping sweet tea and maybe barbecuing at the same time. It was always a past time that I didn't necessarily feel the need to take up. I've realized at this point in my Alaskan career that everything here is just a bit different than I expect or what I've experienced before. So when Mk and my BP intern friend, Kristine, asked us on Thursday afternoon if we wanted to come down with her and a couple other interns to Homer and go on a halibut fishing charter I thought, "I have no idea what to expect, and this could be super crazy. But, we're in Alaska for goodness sakes. Let's do it." So we did.

We left Friday afternoon to drive the four hours to Homer. We got there in time to have dinner, set up camp and watch a beautiful sunset. We were supposed to report at 5:30 the next morning to our charter to take off and catch ourselves some fish. Mk and I got up at 4:45, got a glimpse of the moon actually shining for the first time this summer, and made the longer walk to the nice bathrooms that had flushing toilets and warm water. It seemed like a good start to a good day on the ocean. Then we got on the boat.

The Foxfire started out onto the open seas. I was tired, so I laid my head down and slept for a few minutes only to have my head lifted from my arms several times due to the sudden lapse in gravity at the top of a steep wave. Again and again my stomach jumped up into my throat as our little ship sputtered and tumbled further away from the solid ground that I was now wishing was underneath me. It was an hour and a half ride out to where the halibut like to roam, and I was checking my watch every five minutes. I thought, "Surely once we finally stop I will feel better." But then we stopped.


I looked out the window. This boat was definitely going to tip. How could we stay upright when these waves are trying so hard to make us roll over? But the smiling deck hands, Megan and Kendall were beckoning us to come out on the deck and grab a pole. Seriously? I stumbled out onto the deck. A walk that should have taken about five steps took me about twenty-five steps and three knocked over people. A pole was thrust into my bare, cold hands and Kendall cheerily chatted about how to let out your line and such things. I was having trouble listening because I was too busy focusing on not dying and keeping my stomach where it should be. I let out my line. And then my stomach wanted to come out too.

Seasickness. Don't do it.

Four out of the five of the people that I went with got sick. Out of every passenger on the boat, I would say at least two out of every three people got sick. Who knew fishing could be so extreme? Now I do. Even so, I got my fish. After emptying my body, I was able to better stand and reel those ugly suckers up from the bottom of the ocean where they like to roam. We were only allowed to keep two, Alaskan Fish and Game rules. I hooked four, but I kept a 12 pounder and a 20 pounder. I got my fish pretty quickly, so I picked a spot on the front of the boat and waited until the engine finally started up to take us back to land. It was a trip that impacted me greatly, and a story that I will have for the rest of my life.

I might want to try that booney, sweet tea sipping kind of fishing now. That seems a lot more stable and healthy.