VIEWPOINT

By Ken Knutsen

Commercial fishing is a rather chancy business as perhaps many of you know, making it alluring to those independent spirits who make a living this way. According to a recent study, commercial fishing was ranked as the most dangerous. But what a boring world it would be if everything were predictable!

When I started fishing commercially over 30 years ago, I had never gone to sea; I didn’t even know what a tide-rip was – really! Early on, I asked a tough old Norwegian curmudgeon for advice. Scornfully, he replied “set across the tides and don’t piss into the wind.” Good advice as far as it goes, I suppose.

Even with experience, unforseen events often plague net fishers – weather, breakdowns, dogfish, hake, logs, kelp beds and tide-rips, to name a few. Tide-rips, erratic, swirling tidal currents, can be particularly troublesome as the following tale will illustrate: A near disaster became an almost comical farce while fishing Hood Canal, oh so many years ago now.

It was a typical fall evening – rather foreboding, low clouds, dank and gloomy. The sea was choppy but not rough. I had set my net at the entrance about a half-mile from Foul Weather Bluff.

Some time passed; the tides were fast and furious. Soon a rip-tide encompassed my boat, swirling me over the cork line several times. I had not heard it coming because of the noisy chop. I saw that I was moving to the shoals at Foul Weather, so I hurried to reel in the net. To my surprise and chagrin, my net had filled with tons of jellyfish. The gear belts were squealing and soon the reel stalled.

Sweating profusely, I grabbed a butcher knife, leaned over the stern and slashed away at the web. Sweat poured into my eyes, almost blinding me. Up to my armpits, I hand-emptied the net; poisons from the jellies infiltrated my body and the stinging was pretty bad.

Somehow, I managed to clear the net, although I lost perhaps 20 fathoms of gear. Then my eyeglasses fell overboard; gads, I didn’t have another pair aboard!

What to do now? It was pitch dark but I could see the fuzzy lights on shore. I remembered there was a small harbor just inside Foul Weather; somehow I had to get there.

I steered by boat from a mental picture in my mind and cautiously anchored up. I then spent hours cleaning up and soothing the stinging rash over much of my body. Then to bed.

I awoke near dawn. I heard voices nearby, presumably from a seiner. “Oh, he’ll be okay when the tide comes in” one crewman said. What’s going on here? I leapt from my bunk and hurried up to the deck. All around me was dry land. I had anchored in a little pool just deep enough to float my boat!

I reflect: tough luck old chap that I lost some gear and fishing time. But it sure could have been worse; fate was kind to me,and I smile.

I made sure to have a spare pair of spectacles aboard thereafter!

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