Discovery Channel - Deadliest Catch Diaries

Entry No. 4: Time Bandits Will Be Time Bandits

Aboard the Time Bandit, on a wall above the galley table, there is a framed watercolor of a derelict fishing boat, stranded on a beach in the Hillstrands' home port of Homer, Alaska.  When I first noticed it, Andy told me that he and his brothers used to play on that very boat while their father was fishing in the Bering Sea.  When their father returned to port, all of the boys would greet him and run around on his deck. Watching their wild antics one day, their dad was reminded of a film called “The Time Bandits.”  The name stuck, and it is now painted on the bow and stern of their modern black schooner, representing both banner and bounty for the Hillstrands and their crew.

Unfortunately, this particular day was not a day of king-crab bounty.  Regardless of how hard the crew worked, or how fast the block would spin, the Time Bandit’s pots were coming up nearly blank.  There were sea snails and other odd creatures coming up in the pots. This indicated that the pots had just soaked for the last 24 hours sitting on top of bare rock, not in the dark mud the crabs prefer. Capt. Johnathan was in the wheelhouse yelling, “Snails? Snails?” The deckhands burst into laughter. As more and more of the large snails came up in each pot and dropped onto the sorting table, Russell, one of the deckhands, yelled out “Sounds like a bowling alley.” Only humor could keep a day like this going.

Fortunately for the crew, there was plenty to laugh at. Andy and I were standing together on deck between pots.  I had the camera up, and I was getting ready to ask him a question about how the crew manages to get through tough times when the fishing sucks.  At that precise moment a seagull slammed into the top of my head and flew straight into Andy’s face, feathers flying everywhere!  Andy started yelling, “We are being attacked by seagulls!” Then in a fit of silliness, Russell jumped up on the sorting table and Andy, in his white cowboy hat, lassoed him. Russell used his gloved fingers as horns. Deckhands Neil and Nate ran for some seal bombs, and one minute later there were smoking fish parts flying in all directions, coating my camera and lens.

Sure, the crab fishing might have been bad, but everyone was laughing and running around on deck anyway.  All of us were acting like a bunch of silly Time Bandits.  Later, after all of the fish guts and feathers had settled, I remembered that I never did ask Andy that question.

Entry No. 3: Storm Tossed

Sometime in the middle of the Time Bandit’s storm-tossed journey out to the king crab fishing grounds I found myself jarred suddenly awake.  The boat had just been hit by a strong wave and I was having a “moment.” Disoriented, I had a profound sense of needing to know if everything was OK.

As I crawled across my stateroom in the darkness I was reminded that the f/v Ocean Challenger had just capsized sometime during the last 12 hours. I remembered the looks on the faces of the Time Bandit’s captains, Jonathan and Andy Hilstrand, after the mayday and as they closely followed the incident on the radio.  I, too, feel a deep sense of loss for the men who did not survive the vessel’s sinking. I feel my own vulnerability as well. Even as a guest aboard the Time Bandit, I am a committed member of the crew.  I am often confronted with the reality of our situation out at sea.

The Time Bandit seemed pretty normal once I had reoriented myself.  Everyone except Russell, who was on watch, was deep in slumber.  The men were soaking up every bit of sleep they could get in anticipation of the long, hard hours of work ahead. As I approached the helm Russell continued staring straight ahead. Aside from the usual roar of the engines the boat was silent.  Neither of us wanted to break the peace. I looked over Russell’s shoulder at the navigational computer.  We still had 11 hours of steaming to go before we would drop our first string of pots. I looked forward just as our bow impacted another wave and sent spray flying a hundred feet in the air.

Back downstairs I contemplated walking out onto the deck for a second to clear my head of sleep.  As I began to open the sea door I stopped short.  We are all supposed to tell someone else when we go out on deck. Last year, our Time Bandit cameraman Patrick Cummings stepped outside this very door for “just a minute” without announcing his plans to anyone. Within moments he found himself “swimming underwater across the deck” after he had been hit by a wave that was over his head.  He later told me that he had a “moment” himself.   As he fought in the whitewater, he feared that he would be washed overboard and nobody on the Time Bandit would even have known.

As I crawled back in my bunk I thought of how lonely it would be to see the boat steaming away from you with nobody aware that you were in the water.  I thought again of all the men who were lost on the Ocean Challenger and of the other fishermen that have been lost just during my four years in the Bering Sea.  With the sinking of the f/v Ocean Challenger the number of these unfortunate souls has grown to nine men.  I felt around in the dark for my camera, always by my side and ready.  Reassured that everything was as OK as it could ever be aboard a Bering Sea crab ship, I wrapped my arms around my survival suit and headed back to sleep.

Entry No. 2: Tossing Lines

With the majority of the eight Deadliest Catch vessels rigged with cameras and sound equipment, I finally step aboard the Time Bandit, dragging my own seabags behind me.  I am happy to have drawn the Time Bandit as my assignment this time. To some degree, at least, I understand the Hilstrand brothers, Jonathan, Andy and Neil.  They seem like my brothers already.  The last few nights we have spent together in various bars.  The sincerity and depth of their laughter is still ringing in my head.  I feel welcome here. The Time Bandit is an ideal platform to continue my quixotic quest.

When people discover that I am one of the Catch producers who goes to sea with the ships, they often ask,“How can you do that?”  I quickly answer, “Are you kidding? How can I not do this?” I have been on a quest for adventure and waves since I was a boy.  Where else but to the Time Bandit could my quest lead me?  To date I have only seen seas as big as 40 feet, but I have heard tales of waves over 100 feet high.  Maybe this will be the trip that I will get to see them.

Many of the storms that I have seen out here have been vicious.  Nothing prepares you for the wind -- that part is always beyond imagination.  When we are struck by winds above 60 miles per hour, the ship is adversely affected. Once you have heard the howling of severe winds through the rigging you will never forget it.  The ice is unforgettable as well.  I have had to beat and break ice off the ships and spent countless hours on deck trying not to slide or fall, all while trying to hold a camera still.  I have seen the sea freeze nearly solid and have been forced to drift in the ice pack.  I can truly say that the ice is very dangerous.

There are a few boats in the fleet that I consider "battle boats," i.e., ships that seem to me to be stronger than others.  The Cornelia Marie is certainly a battle boat, one of my favorites.  The Time Bandit is another. She is a schooner, a house-aft boat, wide and steady. The Hilstrands helped their father build this boat.  As I throw my seabags in my stateroom, I load a fresh tape into my camera and push RECORD.  There is no time for delay.  The lines will soon be tossed. The story has already begun.  I look to the horizon with hope.  Out there the waves and the king crab await us.

Entry No. 1: New Season, New Gear, New Challenge

Just before dawn today, I was standing on the deck of the Cornelia Marie with my brother Todd and Zac McFarlane, the two men I will have to lean heavily upon in order to complete what is becoming a monumental task.

Over the next week, we will be running the crews that will rig “our” crabbing vessels with cameras, microphones and all the other gear. We have done this before, except this time we will have to rig eight boats, and all the new equipment we have brought is not our usual stuff. This will be our first year producing the show in HDTV. None of this new equipment has ever been tested in the Bering Sea, possibly the toughest environment that any show has ever been produced in.

Before it is all done, much of the equipment will see four sea journeys, each with its own unique challenges. Last year, the temperature dropped to -20 F. How will this new gear fare? I don’t know. I can’t guarantee anything, and that is a spot I am not used to.

Dutch harbor is already awake now in the pre-dawn hours. The king crab season approaches, and the docks are buzzing with activity. Dutch has changed a lot since I first came here four years ago. About half the boats that once fished crab out of this port are still fishing today. More than a thousand men have lost their jobs, many of them my friends.  The island seems sad in some ways, but there is little time to heed.  With only a week until the fishing begins, my crew, each captain and every deckhand in this town is involved in the favorite pastime of Dutch Harbor: hard work.

When the boats are rigged, I will head to sea aboard the Time Bandit. Jonathan, Andy and Neil Hilstrand are some of my favorite crab boys. They are not yet in town, but I keep my eye on the harbor’s entrance, hoping they will arrive soon. I need to have every vessel being rigged day and night until we are done. Problem is none of the new equipment was designed for this task, and every piece of it is giving us fits in some way.