Discovery Channel - Deadliest Catch Diaries

Getting Our Footing

The North American has finally arrived on the king crab fishing grounds.  We are late, but ready to fish. Our deck-cameraman Danny slides from his bunk uneasily.  It is his first journey into the Bering Sea.  I notice that it takes him a while to stand and catch his balance.  Danny is unaware of my gaze and concern as I watch him.  He has been seasick and lying in his bunk since we first climbed onboard.  It is now time to go into production mode, and I really need him to rally. 

Engineer and deck boss John Skaar (pictured in orange) also rises from his bunk.  He is anxious to hit the deck and begin baiting and dropping pots over the rail.  He too will have to manage his crew on deck.  Travis, one of John’s deckhands, is seasick as well, but John is not worried about him.  Travis has had a lot of experience fighting though his nausea.  He will be OK.   John is more concerned about managing the other two deckhands, each a master fisherman with his own ideas about how a deck should be run.  He will have to lead Davin Nes (pictured in yellow), a highly experienced fisherman, and Eric Nyhammer, the captain of the Rollo, who has joined us as our fourth deckhand for king crab season.  Both of these men will certainly voice their own opinions.  John practically grew up on the deck of the North American.  It is his home turf and he is likely to defend that position.

As the crew steps out onto the wooden deck, they walk right past cameraman Danny, who is now doubled over puking by the bait-chopper.  All that I can do at this point is shake my head and climb up into the wheelhouse to film the captain during his first pot drops in three years.  It is time to fish and time to shoot.  In the days ahead, each of us will have to define our individual roles and positions aboard this vessel.

Photo: Marc Carter/DCL

Family Legacies

On Deadliest Catch I am fortunate to have the opportunity to work with my wife, Rhea, our land-based producer, camera operator and audio supervisor. Our son, Rex, is also with us this season.  Only 11 months old, he is taking his second trip to Dutch Harbor. I guess you could call him the “Deadliest Catch Kid.”  We are all blessed.  Few families in the television industry get to travel and work together.  In the world of crab fishing, the opposite holds true.  Many of the boats are filled with families -- fathers, sons and brothers working together, or on separate boats, to continue their family fishing legacies.

Looking down through my lens from my perch on Mount Ballyhoo, I see my wife crouched behind some discarded fishing nets.  She is trying to stay out of my shot while we both film the arrival of Deadliest Catch's newest boat, the North American.   Like the Northwestern, Time Bandit, Cornelia Marie and Wizard, the boat is family-owned and operated.  As the boat slides into the dock, Rhea and I are excited.  We will finally have the opportunity to meet both Capt. Sten Skaar and his brother/engineer, John.  We are also anxious to meet the remainder of the crew.

Wearing a black and white Norwegian sweater, Capt. Skaar extends his hand.   His boyish looks and warm smile convey a message of welcome.  Rhea and I are immediately invited aboard the boat and are introduced to the crew.  First we meet young Travis  Arket, the vessel's energetic techie vagabond. His Uncle Jimmy fishes on the Storm Petrel.  We also meet seasoned professional deckhand Davin Nes.  Davin comes from one of the famous Bering Sea crabbing families.  His father, Magnus, is a legendary captain.  His two brothers, Jeffrey and Michael, both fish the Bering Sea.  All of the crew mirror Capt. Sten's warmth and welcome.  Our final crew member, the captain of the Rollo, Eric Nyhammer, has yet to arrive.  He too comes from a famous fishing family.

Soon Rhea and I are led into my state room.  There I find that the crew has prepared my bunk with a brand-new sleeping bag and fresh pillow. This is surprising, but what is most surprising is the presence of a mint on the pillow -- the captain’s personal touch.  As I look at the crew laughing at my surprised expression, I really begin to understand that this is going to be a very different crabbing trip.  "Welcome to the North American," says Capt. Sten.

Rising Stakes

Today is just another day on the dock for me.  Our crew has been at sea for more than a week and I am still waiting for “my boat,” the North American to arrive.  It has been a frustrating wait.  Every day takes me further from the stories that are already in progress on other boats out there.  I know that Captain Sten Skaar and the crew of the North American have their work cut out for them.  Their boat has not fished in two years and they are playing catch up.  Not only do they have to prepare the boat for fishing, but they also have to go through a host of rigorous checks of all of their safety systems.  I have received word that some of the other Deadliest Catch boats are beginning to suffer breakdowns and equipment failures.  The stakes are rising for them as well.

Thinking back, this isn’t so different from my start with the show. I had to wait in Dutch Harbor for my first boat, the F/V Sea Star, too.  While I was waiting I learned that there had been a major accident on board the Sea Star.  I was shocked to learn that my assigned boat had just called in a mayday. I heard that the crew had made a routine check and discovered that the lazarette, the watertight stern compartment on the boat, was flooded with six feet of water.  The vessel was in grave danger of sinking, and the ship’s Captain Larry Hendricks had no choice but to call for rescue. I didn’t sleep at all that night.  I spent the hours writing should-I-not-return letters to each member of my family.  It was probably the most emotional night of my life.

Five years later, I truly understand that there are many dangers to vessels in the open sea.  I also understand that the ice and rough waters of the Bering Sea multiply all of the factors that can cause critical problems on fishing vessels.  Thinking again of the North American and of the insidious dangers that we will face this season, I have decided to be more patient.   I now realize that every extra minute that Captain Sten, his brother John, and the rest of the NA crew spend getting their boat ready is a moment well spent.  In this moment of clarity I truly understand what is at stake. That stack of letters still sits on a shelf in my closet at home.  It is only through the care and vigilance of others that they will never have to be delivered.

Season 4 Entry 2: Increasing Seas

With the king crab season now under way, I find myself still standing on the rocky shore of Dutch Harbor.  Through the lens of my camera, I stare out to the north into increasing seas.  In my frame, at the harbor’s mouth, I can see Priests Rock, always the patient observer, staring out to sea as well.  I check focus and wait patiently for my shot.

As I press the red “record” button, descending clouds obscure the rock.  I feel the barometer dropping in my bones.  As I roll camera, the F/V Cornelia Marie crosses my frame rising and falling in spray.  Capt. Phil and his crew are heading out into rough seas once again.  Most of the Deadliest Catch boats are already out there, and the weather is really starting to “come down.”   As soon as the Cornelia Marie clears my frame, I frown, knowing that my cameraman Danny and I are now the last sea-going production team left in town.  This year we have been chosen to film the journey of the North American, our newest Deadliest Catch boat.  Unfortunately the North American, which has not fished for two years, has been delayed with preparations.  As a result, Danny and I are stuck in Dutch Harbor.

As I leave the dock, I load my camera and tripod into my pickup and then I am forced to climb in through the passenger door. The driver’s door is jammed because, earlier, I tried to open it in 60-mph winds.  In one startling moment the door ripped out of my hands, hyper-extending the door hinges.  Now it’s stuck.  Dutch is like that.  It is hard on everything and everyone. 

As I drive back to the hotel, the gusty winds slam against my truck. I pass City Dock and notice two tugboats struggling to keep a cargo ship from ripping the dock apart in the wind.  It is quite a scene, but soon my thoughts return to the crab boats and then to our producers and cameramen who are already out at sea.  I am envious of their situation as they face the growing storm.  I know that these thoughts would seem irrational to most people, even to the fishermen themselves.  Strange as it may be, it has become my professional passion to chase storms.  With the seas growing, I cannot stand the fact that I am not out there.

Season 4 Entry No. 1: Tide Against Current

With the production of the fourth and newest season of Deadliest Catch before us, I again find myself flying out to Dutch Harbor.  The place is not easy to get to.  Many times members of our crew have been turned around mid-flight when the unpredictable Alaskan weather shifted and made landing in Dutch impossible. Almost every member of our crew has a story to tell about the crazy landings that we have had on Dutch’s short runway.  Even when the plane is on final approach, landing is still not guaranteed. As the plane flies into the Aleutian islands' canyons and makes its final turn above the Delta Western fuel dock, all eyes onboard are fixated ahead staring at the gyrating view through the turboprop’s windshield. Ten feet off the runway, while the passengers hang on in terror, the pilot makes the final decision whether or not to commit and actually land the plane.

For the crab vessels, the trip to Dutch is even more of a challenge.  The Bering Sea is just one of the legendary “pieces of water” on this planet. On their way to Dutch, many of our boats will have to brave the north Pacific and cross the Gulf of Alaska.  Eventually they will have to take the narrow and dangerous passes through the Aleutian Island chain.  These passes -- False Pass, Unimak Pass, Unalga Pass -- have infamous reputations known to all northern mariners.

Looking down from my window, I am offered a rare view of these particular passes, more like huge rivers than anything else.  Two great oceans, each with its own tides and currents, are forced to meet and equalize themselves in these narrow places.  The fishermen fear them -- and for good reason!  Many boats have been sunk, and even more have been damaged or run aground in these passes.  When the tide runs against the current the danger triples, the waves stack up and their faces become nearly vertical, their crests pounding down with ferocity.

Somewhere down there a handful of crab boats have departed from Seattle and are now headed for Dutch.  Our newest boat, the boat that I will be on this year, the F/V North American, is down there and so is the F/V Wizard.   Aboard the Wizard, for the first time ever, one of our cameramen, David Farkas, is filming this pre-season journey.  I smile to myself thinking about him being tossed around down there, already engaging the violent sea.  This year we will be sharing this treacherous trip with our viewers.  I can’t wait to see what David captures on tape. I will tell you this … hang on! By plane or by boat, if you are headed to Dutch Harbor; it is going to be a wild ride!

More to Catch:
Want to know more about the journey to Dutch? Find out in our video podcasts.

Want to know more about Alaska and Dutch Harbor? Visit the Wiki.

Photos: Corey Arnold/ DCL 2008 |

Entry No. 12: Magic and Wonder

Every once in a while, when I'm aboard the Time Bandit, the subfreezing temperatures, wind and spray combine and, magically, water freezes before my eyes. We have never managed to catch it in the act, so it has never appeared on the show. This amazing phenomenon occurs when the boat hits a wave and spray jets upward from the bow. Gravity kicks in and the boat and the droplets fall at the same speed. For a few seconds water hangs suspended in midair and is literally frozen. When the boat stops falling the droplets all suddenly tumble to the deck as ice and scatter in many directions. It is a magical moment.

One of my favorite things to do on a crab boat is to climb into the crow’s nest on the foremast of the ship. The bow is usually tossing and rolling. Climbing the narrow steel ladder is a challenge all by itself, especially when it is icy. To stand and face the sea in the crow’s nest while waves bash the bow below, sending spray vertically as you arc forcefully through the air, wind in your hair and seagulls as your escort is wild, brash and amazing. It is another of the magic moments one can experience at sea.

Once a killer whale came up to the surface within 10 feet of where I was standing on the boat’s starboard rail. It was matching the speed of the vessel and swimming parallel to it. As I watched in amazement it rolled a bit to its starboard side, exposing its left eye to stare directly into my own. The whole moment lasted only five seconds. Then the whale disappeared, leaving me in awe and wonder.

Being a member of the Deadliest Catch production team has provided me with a long string of these unforgettable experiences. Many of these were captured on film, but some were not. For me, there is another Deadliest Catch magic moment that happens when I am traveling or working in a foreign country and chance upon a fan of the show. Usually it happens when they say something like, “Hey, remember when the Time Bandit pulled those two king crab pots that had 156 crabs in them?” As I look at them quizzically and respond, “Yeah?” I just can’t help but feel amazed that this person intimately knows some of my personal experiences. It is almost as though he had been looking through my own eyes. Now that I find truly amazing!

Entry No. 11: Icebound

Ice was forming rapidly on the Time Bandit. I figured that it was time to put down the camera and help the deckhands remove some of it. You have to earn your safekeeping on a ship. I tossed on my iPod, put on some rock 'n' roll, and started swinging a hard plastic sledgehammer to the beat. Over the next several hours, ice, pain and music all flowed together. As I worked, the ice continued to form. It felt like we were losing the battle and this worried me. I had lost a battle with ice before.

The previous winter I was aboard the Maverick when the vessel became icebound. The Maverick was iced up, full of crab and had a stack of pots on deck. Though the vessel’s captain, Rick Quashnick, desperately needed to get his catch back to a safe port where it could be unloaded, he was deeply concerned with storm warnings he had received from the National Weather Service. High winds and heavy freezing spray were forecast.

Rick was agitated and uncertain. Unwilling to face the oncoming ice storm, he surprised everyone on board by turning the boat and heading back into the ice. At the time I thought he was going crazy. Now I can see that he chose the least of two evils. At least we would not have to face big waves within the ice pack.

As the Maverick headed into the pack, all of the deckhands were beating ice off the rails and deck. The propellers struggled with the thickening ice. The sound of their scraping and grating intensified the energy of the moment. Surely we could not afford to break the propellers or lose the rudder. Rick was wild and intense. Some of the deckhands were second-guessing the captain’s decision and the mood on the boat went black. Moments later we were done. The Maverick could go no farther. Captain Rick threw his hands in the air in despair, turned the main engines off, and headed into his stateroom.

Not a single person onboard the Maverick escaped the fleeting sensations of doom. Staring across a frozen sea of ice in near silence, I stood outside on the deck feeling completely helpless as I felt the sting of the increasing north winds upon my face. Little did I know that these same north winds would bring our salvation. They would eventually blow us south, the ice would break up, and we would be free again.

Entry No. 10: Drunk and Disorderly Seas

Andy Hillstrand is an easy captain to get along with.  He seldom gets angry, spending the majority of his time with a smile on his face. Today, however, his usual smile was absent.   Andy was deep in concentration. All of his attention was focused on a drunk and disorderly sea.  He was on guard as each wave struck the bow of our vessel, tossing spray across the length of the boat, blasting the wheelhouse windows and temporarily blocking his view of the deck.

Breaking the silence, I asked Andy a question, but he did not hear me; instead he darted his head to the side and quickly sized up the approaching waves.  In conditions like these a rogue wave could suddenly appear and wreak havoc on the Time Bandit. Andy was doing his best to protect his crew, but he also knew that the work still had to be done.   The deckhands worked with their heads down, trying to finish up before the brunt of the storm hit us.  They were all wet and cold.

A small wave, only 10 feet high, broke as it approached our starboard rail.  Its whitewater slapped the side of the boat, sending spray straight into Russell’s face.  As he whipped his head to clear his eyes of salt water, he glared up at Andy at the helm.  Captain Andy raised both hands up in a gesture that said, “Sorry, dude.”  Russell just shook his head at the captain.  Before he turned around and headed back to work he noticed me in the wheelhouse windows and our eyes met briefly. I suddenly felt guilty for being warm and dry.  I decided that it was time to head back out on deck.

Downstairs I donned my foul weather fishing gear, cleaned my lens and stepped outside into the wind and spray. Before I had made it 20 feet, a knee-high wave washed across the deck.  I leaped into the air several times trying to avoid the inevitable, but my boots filled with ice-cold seawater anyway.  My antics, obviously a source of amusement, did not go unnoticed. All of the deckhands were laughing at me. Mimicking the captain, Russell threw both of his gloved hands in the air, palms up, making me laugh as well. As I squish-squished the remaining steps across the deck the chill began to sink in.  I was wet and cold, but feeling entirely free of guilt.

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.