Discovery Channel - Deadliest Catch Diaries

The Last Pot

As the last pot comes over the rail, the celebration begins.  The end of "the grind" is a relief to the crew, but for our greenhorn Darrell "D-Bo" LaBay it is salvation.  He knows that this will not only be the last pot of the trip, but it will likely be the last pot of his life.  Caught up in their celebration, none of the other deckhands even look in D-Bo's direction. The only one to take notice was the captain.

As the boys rejoice, Capt. Sten stands above them on the upper deck watching their antics.  He too is smiling, but it is a reserved smile. He knows that his job is far from done. There is still a lot at stake, and he is not yet ready to celebrate.  He is deep in reflection, hoping that the crew has counted every crab that they have put in the hold.  He knows that their miscounts could become his expensive mistake.

Capt. Sten has the difficult responsibility of catching exactly the right amount of crab.  If he brings more to shore than he is allowed to catch, he will receive a stiff fine. It will also work against him if he has not caught enough.   Either way, if he comes in over his quota or under it, there will be a loss of revenue.  For Sten, this issue is quite serious.

Ever since October, when the king crab fishing season began, Sten has thought a lot about his father, the North American's owner, Erling Skaar. He knows that his dad will be evaluating the profit margin this year, trying to determine if he has made the right choice in allowing his sons to fish the North American again.  Now that opilio fishing has ended, it is time to count the chips and see where they fall.  Unsure if they have succeeded in their father’s eyes, Sten and John are unsettled, anxious to prove the viability of the vessel's operations.  Their livelihood and lifestyle depend on it.

On the deck below, the deckhands begin their post-fishing duties.  For the next couple of hours, they will clean the deck and wash the bait jars.  Inside the house, they will carefully clean the galley and staterooms.  It is their intention to be completely done with their duties by the time they hit shore.  That way they can immediately head to town and the bars to celebrate the end of the season in earnest.

Sten watches the crew for a few minutes, then turns and heads back into the wheelhouse.  As I continue to film him, he sits down in his chair, turns the boat toward Dutch Harbor and then stares out the window over the bow.  Throughout all of this he maintains a calm silence.  It is apparent that he is still in deep thought.  Guessing what he is thinking, I frame up the camera in a medium shot and ask him, "Do you think that might have been your last pot, too?"

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.