The Life of a Commercial Fisherman: Greenhorn Trip Day 1

“There is nothing I can’t do.”   This is what I told myself.

Mistake #1

When I was 24 years old, for the first time I clumsily clamoured aboard the FV Miss Maddy, a sixty some odd foot Scallop Boat birthed in Barnegat Light, NJ. I was about to embark on my Greenhorn Voyage as a Commercial Fisherman in the North Atlantic. I would soon learn just how tough I wasn’t.

When I first set foot on the boat, it was late April of 2004. The weather was fair, low 60’s if I recall correctly. I struggled to make my way through the entrance into what I called “the kitchen.” Mistake #2.

Let’s get this straight right here and now boy – it’s not the kitchen; it’s the galley. It’s not the wall; it’s the bulkhead. It’s not the floor; it’s the deck. It’s not a bed; it’s a rack. It’s not the toilet; it’s the head – and there isn’t one.

These would be the first words spoken to me on my first trip by John, the Deck Boss.

The deck boss went by the acronym HNIC, an acronym that I will not spell out due to the inappropriate nature of the title. The Deck Boss did the same job all the Deck hands did, worked in the same conditions, and earned exactly the same pay as the other Deck Hands. The difference being he was the most experienced and by default, third in the pecking order behind the Captain and Mate.

Before my intimidated mind could compute the fact that John had just told me I would not enjoy the privilege of a toilet for two weeks, it was the First Mate’s turn to chime in.

Congratulations, B*#%! You’re the twelve-hour man. Which means as soon as we throw the lines, you get to washin’ them dishes.

A Scallop Boat was allowed a 7 man crew. This odd number presented a challenge when attempting to evenly distribute manpower throughout the day. The result was two crews or “watches” consisting of three men. The watches were made up of either the Captain or his Mate (second in command) and two deck hands. Each watch would be “on-deck” or working for 6 hours while the other watch slept. The odd man out, the 7th man, was known as the twelve-hour man. He would work two consecutive watches, one with each crew, and then be off for two.

I made my way into the bunk room and looked around. The room, which slept four men, was about the size of my closet as a child. Standing in the middle of the room with my sea bag slung over my shoulder, I took up the entire space. I threw my gear onto the only rack available, a 5-foot long bunk with a foam rubber mattress covered with an unidentified black residue from the last guy who occupied it. I was in a hurry to get out on deck and make a good impression with my new shipmates, so I put off making my bed and stowing my sea bag and went right to work. Mistake #3.

Several minutes later, the captain looked down from his perch overlooking the deck and made the call “Let’s go Fishing.”

I had no idea what was waiting for me beyond the buoys of Barnegat Inlet. The next twelve days would prove to be the longest, most painful days of my entire life.

~Man Overboard