Discovery Channel - Deadliest Catch Diaries

Entry No. 9 : Waves of Stories; Stories of Waves

Neil Hillstrand always fascinates me.  As the youngest Hillstrand, he grew up under circumstances that are exceptional by most standards.  Sometimes, as I listen to him tell his tales I think to myself, “Can you imagine growing up in Homer, Alaska, with Johnathan and Andy as your older brothers?”  Like all of the men of the Bering Sea, Neil has a raft full of stories to tell.

Today, as he was cooking another excellent dinner, Neil told me a tale of how he used to fish in his own skiff on the inlets and coastal waters of Homer.  After he had made his catch, he would take it to a sandy spit of land.  There he would cook his fish on a driftwood fire and eat it while he stared out across the sea.  The tale seemed pretty normal until he mentioned that he was 8 years old at the time. At 8, I couldn’t walk home from school alone -- while Neil was fishing the ocean alone.

As Neil finished his tale, Russell put an old VHS tape into the VCR.  All of the Time Bandit crew sat down at the table and watched as images of huge waves and proportionally smaller crab boats flickered onto the screen of the galley’s TV.  The waves in the video were at least 50 feet high.  The crew watched as two struggling crab vessels fought their way through the crashing waves.  The Bering Sea tossed the Time Bandit as we watched, adding a sensory enhancement to the overall viewing experience.  Inspired by the video, the crew of the Time Bandit excitedly burst into waves of stories and stories of waves.

For more than an hour I rolled camera as I watched and listened.  It was a fabulous experience for me - - what stories!  I knew even while I was shooting the footage that it was unlikely that this scene would be used on the show. It did not matter to me.  I was compelled to record it anyway.  I feel that it is an honor to have been accepted into this community of exceptional men.  They have all been through a lifelong string of wild experiences. I never tire of their tales. I just wish that we had enough time to share every one of these incredible stories with our viewers. 

Entry No. 8: Wind Whipped

As we were leaving the port of Dutch Harbor and heading out into increasing winds and seas, the Time Bandit’s deckhands climbed the stack of pots.  The vessel’s two captains, Andy and Johnathan Hillstrand, watched each one of them intently through the wheelhouse windows.  Each deckhand was wearing a new safety device, a chest harness.  Russell, one of the deckhands, also carried a coil of rope that he intended to use to lower the other deckhands over the edge of the pots in order to tighten the chains that secure the stack.

As the deckhands were belayed over the edge and into danger, Andy and Johnathan discussed how they had each been affected by their recent rescue of another vessel’s deckhand.  They had been touched to the soul by the event.  As he spoke, Johnathan almost came to tears. Andy said that in his dreams he still hears the guy yelling, “Help me … Save my life!”

We all watched closely as the deckhands completed their risky duties.  They soon returned safely to the deck and into the vessel’s galley, happy with the results of their extreme-conditions test of the new safety gear.   At that moment we were suddenly shaken.  There was a terrible crash and the whole ship shuddered.  It felt like the Time Bandit had just been lashed by a giant whip.

After the impact, Johnathan and I locked eyes.  We had just seen a helicopter flying overhead.  Both of us assumed the same thing -- the helicopter had just crashed into the stern of our ship.  We quickly ran to the back door of the wheelhouse, opened it and stared outside at the stern. Everything was intact.  Outside Johnathan turned to me, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Wind!”  I was shocked, and he was, too.  It had been a burst of wind like none of us had ever experienced before.  We laughed and shook our heads. 

With Priest’s Rock just off our starboard rail, Andy brought the boat around to port in a complete 360-degree circle, a “Time Bandit left-hand turn.”  This Hillstrand family custom is used to shake off any bad luck.  As the boat was spinning I laughed to myself.  I was headed out into the Bering Sea for my fourth winter. 

Entry No. 7: The Storm Before Opilio Season

The Bering Sea was tossing, not quite a torment; whipped up, but waiting patiently.  The snow was falling lightly and the wind bit hard through the folds of my new Time Bandit jacket, a birthday gift from the Hillstrands and their crew.   As the wind made its now familiar howling and tore through the Time Bandit’s rigging, I struggled to get through the sea door and into the galley.  The steel of the ship thumped with a beat, not with the constant pounding of waves, but with the stomping of dancing feet above my head in the wheelhouse.  We were not facing another Alaskan storm at sea.  The Time Bandit was tied to a dock in Dutch Harbor.  A party inside the ship was raging full bore.

It wasn’t my first night partying in Dutch, but I think it was the best night ever.  The Time Bandit’s galley was filled with crab fishermen, a load of girls from town, and many of the Deadliest Catch regulars.  "Pork Chop," also known as Rick Quashnick, owner and captain of the Maverick, was there telling stories in the galley and swaying back and forth like I had never seen him.  A few feet away Larry Hendricks, captain of the Sea Star, was engaged in yet another fit of hysterical laughter. The house was full and the cheers were deafening. As I climbed the wheelhouse stairs, I squeaked past Mike Rowe, pinned against the wall. He gave me one of those “Can you believe this?” looks as I passed him. 

Upstairs I pried my way through the tightly woven crowd.  Across the wheelhouse, I could see Johnathan sitting at the wheel and changing the dancing music back to a song that had just played several times.  Johnathan had a girl leaning on his arm and a whiskey bottle in his hand.  As he saw me approach he handed me the whiskey and began to dance.  We all began to dance like there was no tomorrow. We had good reason.  Winter had arrived in Dutch Harbor and most of us onboard would soon be risking our lives again.  Tomorrow, the majority of the boats would head to sea.  The time had come again to fish opilio crab and battle ice several hundred miles beyond the harbor’s mouth, out in what Mike Rowe calls “the vast Bering Sea.”

Entry No. 6: Redemption

Today was a day of redemption aboard the Time Bandit.  Each member of the crew had been suffering due to the poor fishing.  I have been watching each of them closely as several days of bad luck have come and gone. When we are not filming the crews in their best light, like when the fishing sucks, the pressure on deck is increased by the presence of the camera.  As each empty pot came over the rail I continued to film, knowing that something was going to have to change soon. As I peered through my camera’s viewfinder, I reflected back to my past king crab seasons.  I thought about my time on the Maverick a couple of seasons ago.  I smiled as I remembered that we had hauled an amazing king crab pot filled with 100 “reds.”

Although the fishing has been horrible, Capt. Johnathan Hillstrand is a confident guy.  In this house-aft boat, he virtually overhangs the deck.  His face is visible to the crew at all times.  The crew looks to him for reassurance.  When they get frustrated they also provide emotional feedback that reminds him of his responsibilities to each of them.  He has been under a lot of pressure.  It is his job to put the pots on the crab.   As we steamed to our new location, I looked at the computer monitor and noticed that there were at least 90 pots waiting for us.  Johnathan had high hopes.  The guys geared up and hit the deck.

From the first throw of the hook, we knew that our luck had changed.  The first pots came up huge -- 80s ... Wow!  After the empty pots, these seemed incredible. But they were only the beginning.  As the tempo increased it became clear that we were really on the crab.  These pots had a good soak on them and we were sure to see some numbers. Still, I don’t think anyone would have guessed that the fishing was about to go from rock-bottom to all-time-best.  But that is exactly what happened.

The Time Bandit struck gold. More king crab has come over the rail in the last 24 hours than I have ever seen hauled onboard in one fishing session.  When a pot came over with 114 crab in it I was amazed, but the numbers kept getting bigger and the crab were all very large and clean. Pretty soon all of the pots had more than 100 crab in them. Two golden pots had captured an amazing 156 king crab.  Ninety pots later the Time Bandit’s crew had filled her hold and turned the bow toward harbor.

The crew, elated with the fishing, celebrated with gusto and cheer. I feel lucky and honored to have been aboard on the day that each man on the Time Bandit credits as his best day fishing ever.  Today the crew of the Time Bandit pulled 90 pots for an average of 114 crab each.  It is possible that none of us will ever see a string like that again.

Entry No. 5: Staying One Step Ahead

As I dashed across the Time Bandit’s deck, horizontal sea-spray filled the air.  The nagging rain had stopped sometime while we slept. I noted this as I hurried to the forepeak (the storage space in the hull of the boat), with a cup of too-hot coffee spilling over and through my hand.  It happened to be dark, but that did not really matter.  After a six-hour run, we had arrived at our northernmost string of pots. Regardless of the actual time of day, “morning” had come to the Time Bandit.

Inside the forepeak, I quickly ran through my morning routine.  I hopped up on the end of a milk crate, to be eye level with the two video decks that constantly record the fixed microphones and fixed cameras that we place out on deck.  I changed the 276-minute tapes, and then labeled the shot tapes that I had ejected while the milk crate slid back and forth precariously on the greasy floor.  I also readied the hand-held camera that I use on the deck, checking the battery, changing the tape and cleaning the lens.  When not in use, my deck camera is tied to the wall in the forepeak.  To reduce the nasty lens-fogging problem, this particular camera has to remain in the cold.

Back in the wheelhouse, I hurried through my preparations with my wheelhouse hand-held camera. It is the camera I primarily use indoors.  After changing batteries, changing tape, cleaning the lens and knocking several salt crusties off the camera body, I pushed the record button and began to “roll.” I had made it this time. I had actually gotten everything going before the boys got up.  Two seconds later, the Time Bandit boys began to rise.  Two hours later, I was still rolling.  It was then that I remembered that somewhere I had set down a cup of coffee.