Since launching Hooked two years ago, I’ve joked that the boats I work on may institute a confidentiality clause in my crew contracts. Some captains, upon seeing themselves in print, discover they’d prefer to keep their business private, while others embrace life with a writer on board. Fortunately, my current employers are all about photo/video/story documentation; they gave their blessing for their family’s Hooked appearance.
When Jeff called to ask if I could fill in for his abruptly departed longline deckhand, his only hesitation wasn’t about my ability to handle the work, but the company. “I’ve got to warn you: our kids are wild and crazy. Jeytlin’s full of energy, and Teyen’s in his terrible two’s. Do you think you’ll be okay with that?”
Jeff knows my maternal aspirations go no further than four-legged family. Children are a foreign country that I’ve never had any desire to visit. Accepting this job on the Kathleen Jo would mean not only visiting, but becoming a resident.
Joel, listening from the other room, later observed that I’d put my best social worker voice on to assure our friend that I respected what he and his wife, Lindy, were shouldering in running a true family business. “Don’t apologize for your family, Jefe. That boat is your kids’ home. No one has a right to make them feel like a nuisance in their own space. I’m proud of you guys for what you’re doing, and it’d be a privilege to share that time with you all.”
All the right words fell out of my mouth. I really wanted this job.
Photo by Sean Rodda.
Eighteen days later, we’ve made two safe, successful trips. We caught 30,000 pounds of black cod while blessed with good weather, charging full bore through a one day turnaround to take advantage of the calm seas while they lasted. There’s been much laughter. I’ve made some money, seen some glorious sunsets, had some fantastic meals.
(How do you know you’re crewing on the right boat? When you’re so slathered with black cod slime and blood that it’s too much effort to get cleaned up to go inside to eat, so you choose to spend the 12-hour day on deck, and one of your employers passes steaming plates of deliciousness out the door.)
Handed a still-warm piece of pineapple upside-down cake, & told to enjoy it before cleaning the halibut? I love working on this boat.
Most importantly, though, it turns out that the reassurances I’d given Jeff weren’t just fast talk. My small shipmates are fascinating. Hearing five year old Jeytlin ask to go down into the engine room to help her dad, watching two year old Teyen’s face brighten as he points to the image inked on the inside of my left arm (“Boat!”), I wonder what makes me so unexpectedly fond of them. Is it the connection to their parents? Desire for them to grow up knowing me as a safe adult in their lives? Or do I delight in these boat kids because I see the best parts of my own childhood reflected in them?
Good boat kids.
Reading Mindy Dwyer’s The Salmon Princess. After a long day on deck, this is a treat for all of us.
My stepmom asked if this time has awakened any dormant maternal urges. Nope. But it’s been a great experience, a privilege to be trusted not only with my friends’ livelihood, but also as a guest player on Team Thomas, sharing a very small family space in demanding circumstances. It’s given me a new appreciation for the families living and working together — an experience that many of Hooked’s readers have had, and one that few non-fishermen can imagine. Those of you who have held these roles — boat kid, fisherman/boat parent, or both — I wonder how it was for you. Looking back, what stands out as particular joys and struggles? (Psst — Karla, Heather, Tom? For that matter: Dad? Mom?) We’ve got a couple new parents in the fleet who are about to embark upon their first season with children aboard, who’d probably welcome the reflections of those who’ve been down this road.
Weather gave us a few days’ reprieve, but the K‑Jo’s heading back out this afternoon, switching our efforts to target halibut. If you want to keep an eye on us, the NOAA weather site is here; we’ll be somewhere in the olive, back in about a week. Until then, be well, buddies.
Thanks for including link to map…I love maps. Sounds like your fishing seaason is progressing nicely. Change isn’t always bad.
Beautiful writing, Tele. Really delightful reading about your life on board and your experiences with the kiddos. Can’t wait for the next post!
my son thinks perhaps halibut and black cod longlining no place to learn his kids to about fishing he would have to take them trolling as a better inviorment your proving him otherwise good on you and your skipper tele tom
As always Tele, an excellent reading experience. Posted at Fisherynation.com
I’m so glad to read that the season is going well, even with the unexpected change of plans. I do hope recovery is going well at home as well.
One of the greatest joys of my life was taking our 8‑month-old baby up the inside passage. We would fish for the next 5 months in SE Alaska mostly out of Sitka. She was long-lining for halibut on the Fairweather Grounds in the Gulf of Alaska at 9‑months-old. Our daughter is 16 now and thinking of crewing.
It is important to have crew members that understand the complications of fishing with a family. It is a dual role — part deck hand, part nanny. One trip, when our daughter was two, Al and I froze salmon at sea without a deckhand. That was a particularly challenging time, very tiring.
Fishing on board as a family, in many ways, was easier than being apart for many months. It is interesting how time can fade the intensity and discomfort of the tougher times and what is left are photographs and amazing memories. We are grateful for the folks that watched out for us along the way. The parents who had done it before us, letting us know that it was not only possible to fish with a kid on the boat but also worthwhile: The Amos family, The Thomas family,The Gau family, the Haun family, The Gore family … and not the least of which is the the family that built the Willie Lee II 🙂
Hey Karla. I’m a novelist doing research for a book in which a woman commercially fishes in southeast AK with an eight month old. I’d love to talk to you if you’re up for it. Rachelweaver2222@gmail.com
So my beloved daughter, since the invitation to comment was issued…
I’ve come to believe that new parents are frequently flying blind with their young children — irrespective of their age, family backgrounds, child development awareness, grandparents wisdom or best intentions of the parents themselves.
Your mother and I clearly recognized (while still at the hospital actually) what a special unique little person had just come to join our family. I had acquired the belief that childhood was a stage that preceded adulthood, and was best passed through as quickly as possible in preparation for real life. Yes, many years later, I’ve recanted that false belief along with many others.
Quite predictably, young Tele growing up in an isolated veterinary emergency clinic, surrounded by adults in a busy work environment, learned self sufficiency very early. Very likely both as a means of seeking attention/approval, and of addressing her own inner needs that were too often out of the awareness of the parents absorbed in ‘adult’ priorities. Thank goodness for Grandpa Jim who came to live with us through most of the clinic years, and provided a kind, adult presence for young Tele.
The very self sufficient child was seemingly a perfect fit for a small boat environment, where continual awareness, attention to detail, and an ability to be helpful were considered admirable developments. The isolation of the boat years was lessened by the other boat kids that hit the docks soon after the tie lines had been secured. It was with new awareness when I realized that they were looking for peers, not more adult experience.
I now marvel at the depths and endurance of the bonds that formed during those young years among those young shipmates. It seems that there is an awareness of understanding and trust among them now as adults, that is not as frequently present from long past school mates. A major part of their present identity includes the special experiences, and responsibilities that they shared as children, and that has forged much of who they are today.
I feel so much love and gratitude today to feel that I participated in some, perhaps small way, by choices in your earlier years that provided the environment, motivation, or opportunities that allowed you to explore nontraditional paths to find those that give you social and professional fulfillment and truly blossom as the lovely, talented, gracious lady that you are.