A Life Wasted

The Last Fishing Trip

There was a break in fishing seasons so going back out on the boat wasn't an option, at least not one I could hope to make any money on. Yet I needed to make money so I took another trip outside. We'd sold my Jeep Cherokee because we needed cash. I had the pickup truck I used to outfit my boat and run around in, but it wasn't capable of running the ALCAN Highway. Mary had her four wheel drive Suburban which she liked, so on this trip I drove Mary's big Dodge van to use to sleep in as needed. I'd gotten pretty good about traveling on a shoe string. I was able to sleep in the van then shower and shave in a truck stop. Not the most glamorous way to travel, but I made do where I could. I remember this trip because I remember driving the van, but I don't remember much about the trip. I think I did a small job and made a little money, but all I can really remember is leaving the van in long-term parking at the Pittsburgh airport and flying back to Alaska.

My next memory was going back to the boat. Mary didn't like me going out alone, but there was little choice since I couldn't possibly pay a crew and there wasn't much prospect of making money fishing Prince William Sound. She suggested taking Emily but I wouldn't hear of it. Prince William Sound was relatively safe, but it wasn't safe enough for my daughter. That, plus the boat was dirty, cold, and uncomfortable. I didn't want to expose any of my kids to that. So I went fishing alone.

There was some fish on the next few trips, but not enough. I did make it all the way across Prince William Sound to the small town of Valdez. In doing so I sailed across the shallow shoal where the super tanker Exxon Valdez grounded and dumped crude oil into the pristine waters.

That weekend before leaving home I'd watched the cleanup effort on the nightly news, but out there, the spot where it happened, there were no cleanup crews and as far as I could see there was no mess of crude oil. In fact, the water and the shore were pristine and beautiful. After docking in Valdez I asked around about the cleanup crews. For an answer I heard much criticism about the media. My own conclusion is that the media suffered from a hyper-green agenda that caused it to report the news in a way to paint Exxon and the oil industry in the worst possible light. One year after the spill the media reported on the spill as if it was a current disaster, yet there weren't any cleanup crews in Prince William Sound. They'd been there immediately after the spill, but the cleanup efforts were wasted in that the sea cleans up just fine on its own. Yes birds and seals had oil removed from them by a small army of volunteers. Birds and seals were saved. But the sea began to clean itself with the next high tide after the spill. It continued to clean itself. Twice a day, with each changing of tide, the sea cleaned the rocks and washed away the crude oil.

Alaskans knew the media exaggerated the disaster. Alaskan's were upset with the exaggerated news reports that made Exxon a villain. They were so sick of those false reports that when Captain Hazelwood, the skipper of that ill-fated super tanker went on trial for criminal negligence in an Anchorage federal court the jury of Alaskans found him not guilty. There is no doubt of the man's guilt. He was criminally negligent because his super tanker turned across a shoal so shallow I had to cross it carefully in my little boat. Alaskan's found the man not guilty to make a statement, one that was never reported in the news.

So on what would become my last fishing trip Mary convinced me to take Lady, our two year old Rottweiler. I'd never heard of anyone taking a dog on a fishing boat in Alaska. But Prince William Sound was so calm that it would work. I think Mary wanted Lady with me because she thought I was losing my mind out there alone, which may have been true. I didn't like the idea at first, but before Lady and I reached the North Wind I was convinced of my wife's wisdom. I was lonely and Lady and I were good friends.

The first time I set gear a hook caught a finger on my right hand. These hooks are large and strong enough to hold a 600 pound halibut, so it had no problem holding on to me. With a sixty pound anchor sending the long line into the deep water the hook snatched me off the deck and over the back of the boat. I always carried two sharp knives strapped upside down on the straps of my gear, kind of like thick suspenders. This way if I needed to cut something loose in an emergency I could pull loose a knife with either hand in a hurry. This was a perfect example of why I carried those knives as I did. In the second it took me to free a knife with my left hand and cut the line my body was half hanging over the back of my boat. A tenth of a second longer and I'd have been in the water. A second longer and I'd have been twenty feet under water and headed for the bottom. As I write this I am still amazed at how close I came to dying that day.