Moose!

Westchester Lagoon

I have been in Anchorage for some time now and finally have my appointment set to debrief. I once again have the apartment to myself which has been nice- for the first few days. I love the silence and solitude, absent of the incessant hum and sometimes roar of the diesel engines, the sound of the pots clanking against the side of the boat as they are retrieved from the water, and the metallic scrape of them sliding back into the water as they are redeployed. But it does get old, as I have no one to interact with and I have done most things of interest that are within walking distance. I confess, an amount of boredom has definitely set in as I await debrief and redeployment. Yesterday, in an effort to abate the monotony of the day, I went on a walk to the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. I refuse to say I bit off more than I could chew, but the trip was quite a bit more of a walk than I had expected, as I did not do much of any planning ahead of time. Round trip, it was about 12 miles.

One of my complaints of the last couple months has been that I have not seen any bear or moose (from a safe distance of course), which are supposed to be somewhat common sights here in Alaska; especially because a couple of my other observer friends had seen them. I had hoped to see one along this trail, as it is where my friend made his sighting. After walking to the tip of the peninsula to the airport and admiring the spectacular view of Cook Inlet; the nicely rounded snow-capped mountain in the foreground, and it's more distant, entirely white, and craggy neighbors, I couldn't help but be slightly disappointed at not having seen one.

Coastal estuary along trail

I began my trip back, this time veering inland on the trail that would take me to the urban route home. I was talking to my sister on the phone (I may have even expressed discontent in my moose-less sightings to her) when about half an hour into my walk, I saw this dark brown shape moving off in the distance by the road. I told her "I'll call you back, I think there's a moose!" Sure enough,

The Moose!

there it was. It was at a safe distance and was quite unconcerned with my presence, and the presence of the cars that were flying by, as well as stopping in the middle of the road right next to it to take pictures. After taking my fill of photographs, I happily continued on my way back to civilization and somewhere to eat. I was talking to my girlfriend, sharing my exciting news, and she graciously saved me from starvation and found for me a restaurant called "The Rustic Goat" on the street I was on that I stopped into. The food, ambiance, and decor was quite nice. They provided the food I needed to get home, and the beer I needed to take the bite off the low/mid-thirties cold that was setting in, as the sun had long since fallen. All that remained was to get home, and I did. Out of the boredom came a very eventful day.

The Rustic Goat

In Retrospect...

Every bracket of time presents experiences unique from the last. This last and final trip on the pot processor Bountiful out of Dutch Harbor was no different. Out of the last month and a half, I have been on land but two short days, and am happy for this temporary respite until I give it one last hard push before returning home for Christmas. As I said in my previous post, this boat presented many challenges from all perspectives. Sampling was very fast paced, paperwork was voluminous due to the continuity of fishing 24/7, and as a result, sleep was very broken up. Conducting delicate specimen collections and measurements when the boat was rocking heavily in rough weather was quite a pain along with every other task, from going to the bathroom, to sitting still, to finding a comfortable position in bed. When walking down the hallway to my stateroom, it would go from a difficult uphill walk, where much leg strength had to be applied to move forward, to steep downhill in which that same force would have you flying ahead into the wall, and I frequently found myself adhered to the wall like a starfish. But, amongst the struggle were many positives.

The Endurance

Ernest Shackleton

During my time on the boat, I read a book called Endurance, about a WWI era British explorer named Ernest Shackleton and his crew who sailed to Antarctica with the mission of being the first to cross the continent on foot. The excursion did not turn out as planned, as their ship, the Endurance, became hopelessly entrapped in the ice floes far from where they needed to be. It is a great tale of mental and physical fortitude, in which unimaginable hardships and discomforts were suffered and overcome for over a year until they made it to a place of relief. This book was quite inspiring and when I would be having difficulties, would just remember that “At least I’m better off than Shackleton”, and that was at least some consolation.

Dutch Harbor from the dock

Boat life is full of ups and downs and many interesting moments. There is always a big social and antisocial component. While I had a strong working relationship with the crew members to gather my samples, working them and doing the measurements/specimen collection etc in my observer shack was a very isolating process, and made me realize how weird I am given the opportunity. We have to play to stay sane. My version was (and sleep deprivation may have had a very strong part to play in this) I would sing the numbers as I would write them on my deck sheets, and talking to myself was common. This would make the time go by faster. The crew members were very similar, and humor was a big part of our relationship, cracking retarded jokes back and forth all night. But the biggest stress relief for me was that the captain of the vessel had an electric guitar that he kept in the wheelhouse. He was trying to learn, and I having played guitar for many years was happy to help him learn, and in return was allowed to play whenever I liked (which of course was not very often due to working). Having not played in some time, the pleasure gained from playing the instrument was immense.

Opilio/Bairdi Tanner Hybrid
(more Opilio)

Perfect micro-environment

There were other isolated moments that were either significant or humorous, or interesting. Like when I am trying to determine whether a Tanner Crab is a Bairdi or Opilio by closely looking at the mouth area (epistome) and am quickly reminded that his arms (with powerful claws on the end) are longer than they look and he is unhappy that I am handling him, as he takes a quick swipe at my face. Or when this little clam came up in my sample that had a tiny family of baby seastars and a scallop living in it. Really makes me appreciate the small things. Or when I was sampling and the rain turned to hail- I won’t forget the sounds of the ice shards hitting the deck and the sorting table. Or when I laughed at the Tanner Crab that in an effort to pinch me, pinched himself very hard and took a moment to realize that it was himself, not I, that was in his powerful grasp. Or how the favorite pastime among crew members was watching Ancient Aliens and frequently talking about various conspiracy theories as if they were anything more than that. As will all boats I suspect, it was quite an unforgettable experience indeed. So long to the Bering for now.

Sunset on the Bering