Heading Home, Sweet, Home

07/28/2009

Secure the pots, clean off the deck and set a course to Dutch Harbor because opilio season is over.

I wish I could have told you I was excited when the season was over, but that just wouldn't do the emotions I was feeling justice.  I have never felt that kind of emotion before, but I love it.  If it were a drink, it would be:
1 shot jubilation
2 shots exhaustion
1 shot satisfaction
Served chilled over pride garnished with hunger

I worked on deck of the Cornelia Marie for an outstanding 64 days straight.  We didn't have a day off, eight hours of sleep or a peaceful moment in those 64 days, and hence I feel 20 years older, weathered and hungry, and I'm using words like hence. I started this show excited for the experience then I got seasick and vomited about 15 times a day.  It was hell on earth and the vomiting lasted all the way up until there were four days left in the season, when I made a miraculous turnaround and haven't thrown up again yet!  I must say the IV, five kinds of pills, acupuncture or just time worked; I mean, at least one of the 7 things worked.

All in all I am just happy to have finished safe and alive.  I have survived 100-mph winds, 30- to 40-foot waves that engulf the wheel house, slamming against the weakening glass, breaking cranes sending 500-pound pots crashing just feet from you, and waves that sweep across the deck picking you up and cascading you into the storm-shelter wall.  I have fallen down stairs and been lifted up by a wave that pounded me up against the ceiling and then back down to the floor. I've knocked myself out against a pole and tried to keep standing but collapsed to my knees instead.  I've tripped, fallen and stumbled in this perpetually moving world for 64 days, and I couldn't have been more honored or excited to have been a part of it.

I think of this experience as "Hell Week."  Just as the Navy Seals have their "Hell Week," I believe working on Deadliest Catch is the producer's "Hell Week."  It takes the best the industry has and makes them better through insane conditions, intense physical and mental stress, while teaching to become impervious to time or fatigue.  It was an experience that left me bruised, battered, exhausted and 15 pounds lighter, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.  If you ask any Navy Seal what makes them a Seal they will without hesitation say, "the training." It transforms an ordinary soldier into our country's best.  I think the same thing of Deadliest Catch, and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity and experience the Deadliest team has given me.

Finally, I would like to thank everyone for reading my blog.  I will leave you with two things, a list and a poem.

List: Tidbits and facts you probably didn't know from the boat
- I haven't worn a pair of jeans in 54 days.
- I have worn sweatpants every day for 62 days.
- I haven't slept eight-plus hours in 64 days.
- I haven't slept on solid ground in 51 days.
- I have injured four parts of my body.
- I haven't had any fried food in 51 days.
- I have personally shot about 198 hours of footage.
- As a boat, we have shot far more than 1,000 hours of video.
- I have produced about 47 stories and have them all in my head
- I have vomited in six different locations on this boat.
- I have only showered four times in 54 days (not by choice).

A Poem:

Dutch Harbor

I've never been so far west that I was east.  The gray-blue ocean begging for my breakfast, but I'll fight you with all I have. 

I pitch and roll
Freezing water grips me
Ice hug

Bering Sea I don't want to embrace you, I don't want you, I don't

Snow-dust donkey ... it's gone

Big Weather, Big Seas

07/21/2009

A journal entry from Josh during the Opilio season:

Weather is getting worse and worse by the hour, and the winds are reaching 100 mph.  I have never seen wind blow that hard before, and it is incredibly scary.  The wind blows so hard at times that you can hear the windows stress, creak and squeal in the wheelhouse.  I believed, though, that the Cornelia Marie would hold up against Mother Nature, but who really knows.  Capt. Phil said it’s OK, but he was obviously nervous. Phil’s leg was shaking so much that I’m surprised it didn’t drill a hole in the floor straight to the galley. 

Capt. Phil is arguably one of the safest captains in the fleet.  His motto is, "My crew is like an engine; if I wear them out, nothing can get done," so he tries to keep his crew "fresh." (Keep in mind that being "fresh" is relative in the Bering Sea. Fresh means working 30-36 hours straight instead of 40-45 hours.)  With that being said, Phil is notorious for blowing out his engines.  Regardless, he tries his best to keep the crew out of harm's way.  When weather gets really bad, he will never hesitate to pull his crew off deck to keep them safe.   However, there are times when the boys want to stay and fish, so it gets frustrating being pulled in all the time.   Now that the season is over and I’m home alive, I look back and appreciate Phil’s safety-conscious mind.  It’s never worth anyone's life to stay out and fish for an extra few hours.

Want to hear something crazy, though?  I actually prefer worse weather over calmer seas.  Yes, it’s true. As the weather got worse, my seasickness actually got a tad bit better.  Capt. Phil explained that the motion of the ocean during smaller seas is harder to predict and moves the boat left, right, up and down.  This random motion makes it very hard for your body to adapt and thus I got really seasick.  However, bigger seas create more of a "predictable" roller coaster full of big ups and huge downs.  This makes it easier for your body to adapt to the motion, because it knows what to expect.  Crazy, huh?

Fishing is Like a Roller Coaster

07/14/2009

The seas are getting bigger, the wind is howling and everyone is getting cranky.  This is the point of the season where the excitement of the sea has worn off and all you want to do is get home.  You're tired, you're overworked, you miss your bed, a day without being cold, a moment alone, a moment with a girl and standing on ground that doesn't move.  Every time I went on deck I looked at my boots and that orange rain gear and I just wanted to rip them to shreds, burn them and feed them to the ocean: we were ready to go home.  

It's exhausting and everyone is tired and frustrated, and that's why good fishing is as important now as it's ever been.  With each crab in the tanks, you are that much closer to reaching your quota and going home.  So when Captain Phil is on the crab and pulling in pots that have some of the biggest numbers he's ever seen, it's the best feeling in the world; it's like turning 16 and driving for the first time.  Those times are the highest of the highs, but when the numbers get cold and tailor off, that's the lowest of the lows.  It's like turning 16, failing your driving test, and having your girlfriend break up with you for the jerky captain of the football team (yes, it's that bad). 

A bad cold streak will turn a crew cold and magnify the smallest problems into world tragedies.  Take, for instance, breakfast on the Cornelia Marie. Jake would give Josh a hard time about not cooking a "full-share meal." He would say things like, "Josh is a full-share guy now, but he doesn't make a full-share breakfast."  Personally, I am not 100 percent sure what "full-share meal" means; we would have bacon and eggs or French toast, but Jake didn't find that to be a full-share meal.  I would think a full-share meal would probably include a mimosa or bloody Mary, but there wasn't any drinking on the boat so there goes that.  Regardless of what a full-share meal actually entails, the point is that our meals were fine as long as the pots were full. When the pots started coming up short, so did the meals.  Low numbers are just part of the season -- they happen to every boat; not every pot can have 500s in it.  Fishing is like a roller coaster: When you're way down, just give it some time and soon you'll be on top again.

I am NOT Josh Harris

07/07/2009

Welcome to the Bering Sea, located 2,553 miles north of Los Angeles, which I call home, and about 60 degrees colder.  The Bering Sea is a slushy hell where I lived onboard the Cornelia Marie for 68 days in January and February 2009.  Now that I am home safe and sound, relaxing on my couch as I watch the fruits of our labor, a couple of things strike me.

Watching the show, I see things that I definitely remember (big waves kicking my tush), but I also see things I don’t.  When I was onboard the Cornelia Marie, I was aware there were other boats in the fleet, but you forget about them.  We have little communication with the other boats; at times we talk via radio but not often.  So when I watch the show, I am shocked to see other boats stuck in situations we found ourselves in.  For instance, all the boats came into contact with the ice in one way or another.  However, we were the first to go through it and it cost our engines dearly.  As you know, we blew our piston and were stuck in St. Paul.   I thought that the other boats would have known, but the ice is so unpredictable that no one could have guessed how fast it would have moved.

Also, I really appreciate the kind emails you guys send.  However, I just wanted to let some of you know that I am NOT Josh Harris.  I appreciate all the kind emails where you ladies think I’m that Josh and tell me how hot you think I am.  However, you have the wrong Josh; I am Josh Silberman, and if you think I am hot, well, then thank you and you can still email me.  However, if you want me to try and set you up with those “sexy” Harris boys, I just can't do that. Sorry.  Haha!  Anyway, let me end this blog with a haiku I wrote onboard the Cornelia Marie:

Snow dust dancing free
On the boat in the ocean
Never time to sleep

Get Some Answers

06/30/2009

Josh answers more viewer questions this week.  Keep them coming and he'll do his best to answer:

Q: I find it kind of funny that fishermen get annoyed by the camera's presence; what do you guys do when they get really upset?
A: When they get really upset, you do your best to give those guys a little break from you.  It's not easy, though, because you are stuck on a little boat together, but some time alone is always a good thing.

Q:  I've been wondering, what do you wear to stay warm when it's -5°, the wind is howling, and the waves are constantly washing over you?
A: Layers, layers, layers.  I wear two layers of long underwear, a fleece, sweatshirt and then the Grundens.

Q: How many camera crew are on the boat at one time?
A: Two shooters/producers per boat.  Todd and I were on the Cornelia Marie.  I was on deck and he was in the wheelhouse.

Q: I notice you get shots of the crab boats when they are coming at you. Do you have another boat out there all the time or just when weather gets bad or what?
A: A chase boat called the Sea Star cruises around the Bering Sea shooting us as we fish.

Q: Do you also edit the footage at sea?
A: No, we send the tapes back to L.A., where they are all logged and edited.

Q: Do you have any advice for someone interested in shooting on the Bering Sea?
A: Yes, find a different job ... ha ha.  Seriously, this is the most dangerous job in the world.  Deadliest is not a joke or made too look more dangerous because it's on TV. It's the real deal and can get scary. 

You Asked, Josh Answers

06/23/2009

First, I wanted to thank all of you guys for the kind and supportive emails.  Out of any show I have worked on, Deadliest fans are by far the best.  Second, I wanted to dedicate this week's blog to all the questions you guys have emailed me.  FYI: If I didn't get to your question, it doesn't mean I don't love you.

Q: Do you ever get to interact with any of the other crews in the fleet?
A: Occasionally we do, but not very often.  We sometimes see another boat when we offload.  However, most of the interaction occurs before or after the season.

Q:  Are there any women producers out there with the boats doing what you do?
A: No, there aren't any women out there on the boats this season.  However, there was one woman who worked with the Coast Guard.  Her name is Rosie, and she is awesome and super talented; she also used to work on a boat a few seasons ago.

Q: What happens to the boat, and what do the crews do in between seasons?
A:  These are full-time fishing boats. When they are not on TV, they are still out there tendering herring and other fish.

Q: You said that you got to help out with the actual fishing, but I was wondering: since you have never crab fished before, what did you find was the most difficult part about fishing (other than the pitching deck and huge waves crashing down on you!)?  Was it the baiting? The sorting? The pot maneuvering?
A: Standing up, ha ha.  Actually, one of the hardest thing is to push a bailer full of crab across the deck and into the hold.

Q:  How do you guys manage to stay calm when things go bad?
A: This is a good question; it's not easy, but you have to.  You are stuck out on that boat no matter what happens or what weather you're in.  Freaking out isn't going to make the weather go away.  So it's important to just deal with it, be calm and focus on your work.

Got more questions?  You can email Josh directly or post your questions in the Comments section below.

Bering Sea Brothers

06/16/2009

A lot of you guys have been emailing me wondering what's up with Josh and Jake fighting all the time.  Well, they're brothers and brothers fight, especially when they're exhausted and living in cramped quarters.  Also, they know how to push each other's buttons and sometimes I think they do things just to get under each other's skin. For me, watching them fight is hilarious. I mean, they'll fight over the dumbest things. They would fight over how to put a pot on the boat, how to do bait or how to cook a potato. I mean really, guys, a potato?  I get it, though. I live with my brother and we fight about how much water is in the dog's bowl.  

Working with the Cornelia Marie guys is truly an honor, and it starts at the top.  Capt. Phil is the best -- a lifetime fisherman who has been fishing the Bering Sea for decades.   Phil has been through it all and understands the nuances of fishing the Bering Sea and always puts the safety of the crew before all else.  Working with Phil is sort of like dealing with a smoldering fire: he's always smoking and could turn into something ugly in a flash.  Phil is a tough man and expects from his crew what he puts in and that's a lot.  

As a Deadliest Catch producer on a boat, you walk a fine line between fisherman and producer.  You want to earn the respect of the fishermen and prove you can hang with them, work their hours and do what they do.  However, your job isn't to catch crabs -- it's to produce the best possible TV show that you can.  So what's the happy medium?

The happy medium is different for each producer, but for me I wanted to be 100 percent fisherman and 100 percent producer.  This meant spending every moment with the guys on deck while they were working.  I would shoot as much as I could, but occasionally I would put the camera down and help them on deck.  It was fun learning how to bait a pot, sort crab and push the totes along the dock.  If I could learn how to be a greenhorn deckhand, it would help me as a greenhorn producer.  

Meanwhile it is COLD, COLD, COLD out in the Bering Sea during opilio season.  It's so cold the ocean is frozen, and it's like a slushy out there.  One cold night I wrote this poem while wrapped up in blankets in my bunk:

If hell froze over, I would already be there.

Plunging through the Bering Sea, I'm cold, cold, cold.  So cold that a mere hug would no doubt crush my bones.

If hell freezes over, I would already be there, and in true form I'm joyfully stuck.  Stuck like a sardine in the rafters of Costco; you could never find me.

Dancing snow and the rhythmic coma of the bow bouncing warms my senses, but I'm still cold, I'm still horizontal, I still will smile.

If hell froze over, I would already be there.

Happy to be Frozen in Hell

06/09/2009

What is stuck in my beard?
A. Vomit
B. Saltines
C. Miscellaneous items
D. All of the above

*********************

"There is no time in the Bering Sea, just Time Code."

*********************

I remember looking at my calendar and it said Wed, Feb. 18th. Ahh, the 18th ... it makes me laugh a little bit.  I had no idea how long I'd been at sea. Like no clue.  Being out at sea is like a big time suck; hours and days go by and you have no clue how long you've been gone.  Sometimes I didn't know how long we were working until the sun came up.  I was like "huh, interesting ... it's morning again."

The Bering Sea is an interesting place. It shrinks things.  It shrank my body, it shrank the boat and it shrank the world.  The mighty 145-foot Cornelia Marie looks like a behemoth while docked.  However, out in the ocean getting tossed around like an untied shoelace on a trampoline it shrinks to just another grain of salt in the ocean. My world got so small, no phone, no Internet. I mean, I had no idea what was happening in the world. I didn't know who won the Super Bowl, if Obama was president, or if any of my friends had gotten pregnant or engaged (even though I gave them specific instructions that no one was allowed to while I was gone).  In the Bering Sea, there is only one thing happening in the world and that is fishing.

This season we consistently saw 30-foot waves; they engulfed the boat like an apple dropping into a tank of water.  Sometimes I wondered if the boat would come up. Thank God, it did every time.  Big waves make it hard on deck and off.  One time I was chasing Steve and the boat hit a big wave and I fell down the stairs. Ryan and Jake were downstairs changing into dry gear and had a perfect view and laughed at me for days to come.

All in all, I think of my time on the Cornelia Marie as Producer Hell Week and I consider it an honor and a privilege to have been there, as it only made me better.  If you ask any Navy Seal what helped make him a Navy Seal, I bet he would say Hell Week ... and that is how I feel.  I couldn't be happier to have been frozen in hell.

The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.

06/02/2009

An entry from Josh at sea, at the beginning of Opilio Season:

Well, well, well, it's opie season. Hooray!  We finally made it to opie town, and in opie town, things are a lot colder, the ocean is more dangerous, Phil is back and the Cornelia Marie is falling apart.

I couldn't be happier that the legendary Capt. Phil is back at the helm of the CM.  He is known as the king of the opies, and after a rough king crab season, it's amazing to have the smoke-inhaling, energy drink-pounding, crabby-as-hell captain back.  It's great to have Phil back, but, a drag that the CM is in dry-dock for repairs.  Everything is wrong with this boat and it's frustrating for everyone.  Todd and I are itching to get back out to sea, and it's a bummer to see other boats leave as we are stuck here playing cards.

However, there is good news on the horizon for us (by us, I mean you and me).  This season I took a ton of journal entries whenever I wasn't sleeping.  It was really important to me to record the chaos that is Deadliest Catch: Opie Season.  Here is my first journal entry:

So my friends, here is the news: I only had a 12-hour day today, which was AWESOME!, so we (myself and my boat partner, Todd) took the remaining light we had and took some pictures.  Then if that weren't enough, I found this weird thing they have up here called ... um ... the Internet.  Weird, huh?

THE GOOD:   Hear me now and believe me later  -- the boat is coming along, and I would say fishing is in our immediate future.  However, a ginormous ice-pack is threatening to close the fishing grounds, so unless you know Mother Nature or are dating Storm from the X-Men, I have no clue when we will go fish. Dutch Harbor in the winter is awesome and here is why: I get to wear sweatpants to work every day, bald eagles are as common as pigeons in New York, I'm not expected and don't have to shower, I get to do power turns in the snow, and it's a girl-less society (which means no drama or distractions).

THE BAD: It's as cold as a witch's mammary in a brass brassiere. Plus, I've never seen more people smoke more cigarettes in my life. (I'm not talking boxes here, I'm talking CASES, like the ones in Costco that you can't reach because they're at the top of the rack.) Capt. Phil is a chimney.  It is ridiculous and I feel the cancer growing in my lungs.  There is a constant haze of smoke in the wheelhouse that will no doubt be a Phil calling card.  My new nickname is Mouse, because Phil refuses to have two Joshes on deck.  I am not sure how to feel about that quite yet; I mean Mighty Mouse was awesome.

THE UGLY:  This is going to be a year to remember. We're experiencing the worst weather since 1975, and it could become the worst in history, so that is exciting.

What's it Like at Sea in a Storm?

05/26/2009

Hello Deadliest fans. Let me start by thanking you guys for the bagillion (that's right, "bagillion" -- it means "a lot") emails I got for the T-shirt contest.  It was really fun to hear from you all, and I must say Deadliest Catch fans are some of the greatest ever!

Last week we played a little guessing game where I gave you guys 10 "facts," three of which were untrue.  Here are the correct or not correct answers:

1.    Josh Harris eats peanut butter cups all day until we run out (he averages about eight packs a day): 
TRUE: I don't know how he gets all his vitamins and nutrients to survive the Bering Sea, but he does all right.

2.    We throw shot tapes overboard in waterproof cases to be retrieved by the Sea Star and sent back to L.A.
TRUE: It's a painful thing to watch all your hard work floating amongst the waves, but thanks to the Sea Star it has always worked out OK.

3.    Between Todd and me, we have shot over 400 hours of footage. 
TRUE: I don't have the exact number, but I would say the Cornelia Marie generates about 3,400 hours of tape each season (including deck cams).

4.    The guys pop No-Doze like crazy to stay awake. 
FALSE: You would think they would use No-Doze to stay awake.  However, they never do. They're all natural.

5.    We eat a ton of crab on the boat. 
FALSE: There are a few reasons we don't eat crab.  First, after being knee deep in it all day, the last thing you want to do is eat it.  Second, you aren't allowed to.  Alaska Fish and Game regulates how much crab each boat is allowed to catch.  So if you eat any of your catch it must come off your quota. To adjust all the paperwork associated with eating 5 pounds of crab is a pain in the butt.  If you are caught eating crab, or there is evidence that you ate crab (crab legs in the fridge), the fines are huge.  So it's really just not worth it.

6.    The Cornelia Marie holds roughly 300,000 pounds of opies.
TRUE: It's a damn big boat.

7.    The only thing that made me get over my seasickness was acupuncture and two different kinds of prescription pills. 
TRUE:  Thanks to Dr. Anna in Dutch Harbor.  She specializes in medicine and acupuncture, so she gave me the royal treatment: two IV bags, two courses of acupuncture and four prescription pills.  Thank you, Dr. Anna.

8.    The longest Todd and I stayed awake was 32 hours. 
TRUE: It may be slightly more, but I was too tired to remember.  As long as those guys are fishing, we are awake shooting it.  Sometimes we are even shooting while they are sleeping. You never know when something is going to happen, so you need to be prepared.

9.    A pot weighs roughly 500 pounds. 
FALSE: Some of you actually did research. Good job! They are about 800 pounds.

10.    Jake Harris cooks some of the best steak I've ever had. 
TRUE: It's true, ladies -- both those Harris boys are good cooks.  However, the "Jake Steak" is delightful.  Maybe it's because he made them after we arrived on land for offloading, and I hadn't eaten in days.  Regardless, they were delicious.

A lot of you guys emailed me to ask what it's like at sea in a storm.  Well, let me tell you.  The Cornelia Marie definitely experienced some rough ones and it was nuts to say the least. I've never experienced anything quite like it and imagine I never will again.  You can't fish in those conditions; in fact you can't really do anything in those conditions. There is nowhere to hide from the intensity. You must either ride with the waves or fight your way through them.  Those are tense times on a boat, and I think for the most part you'll find everyone up in the wheelhouse on alert.  I will never forget Todd coming up to me and saying: "If you can sleep, make sure you sleep with your survival suit next to you."  That was as scared as I've ever been. Fresh off the Katmai tragedy, how can you not be? 

In general, you can't sleep much out there.  You're either working all day and all night, or there's a bad storm and you simply can't. If I did sleep, it wasn't an easy task. Since I was top bunk, during bad weather I had to wedge my legs in between the mattress and the frame.  This helped keep me in place so big waves wouldn't send me flying out of bed and into the wall. 

Throughout the whole Deadliest Catch experience, (I'll admit) I wanted to go home a few times, but I never wanted to or would quit.  Through it all you know home is in the future, eventually, and that keeps you motivated.