The Tavern

I made my choice. The next day the captain probably found the note I left on the sink. I wonder what happened next. Was he pissed? Resigned? I will never know. I wonder what he told the other captains at the bar. Word in such a little town spreads like wildfire. Often times, people know what you did before you have even done it. I caught hints, but never actually heard anything. But I suppose it wasn’t all bad because I worked on two more boats that summer. Or maybe all the other captains knew the guy was an asshole.

I was extremely low on money at this point and needed to find work quick. My brother and I quickly started scheming. My plan was to kill time at the tavern, reading and talking with the locals. The Tavern had an opening to clean in the early hours of the morning, but nope. Been there and done that. But the Tavern did prove to be a window into fishing culture. These communities are small and the community gathering places are few. Mainly where ever alcohol is sold. In my quest to find a new boat to work on I opted for the Tavern. I would show up around 7 or 8 PM and read a book or play some pool. This ended with me meeting some interesting characters. It wasn’t until later that I learned that the Tavern was where the deckhands and unsavory folk drank. The bar is where the captains would go and if I wanted to find a boat to work on, I should have gone to the bar.

One night I hit some balls around the pool table when a short, old, drunk guy with a full grey beard stumbled up and wanted to play pool. Earlier that night I had been thoroughly schooled by a boat engineer from South Carolina. Shortly after the engineer had tried to subtly sneak away from the table without making me feel bad or he was just bored and didn’t know how to politely get out of it. Anyways, I wanted a win so why not? It seemed like Sand point had an unusual number of pool sharks. The old man was stumbling around, but he kicked my ass without trying. That led into a conversation about his lord and savior Jesus Christ and how he had changed his life. He recounted diving off of kodiak for cucumbers and couldn’t remember what he was doing. Somehow he shot to the surface and survived whereas he should have been dead from breathing monoxide or something like that. Not bad as far as conversion stories go. He also recounted how he got his son out of an insane asylum that his ex-wife had put him in. Apparently his son hated him for that or so I gathered. Not sure why he was committed or why he’d hate his father for getting him out. Not sure I want to know. I have found that there are many stories I don’t want to know. He told me how he sluiced for gold nearby and how he was a very very wealthy man, but he was happy living on a shitty boat, going salmon fishing, and by my impressions, being the town drunkard. He even offered me his job on the boat he was fishing on that summer. I politely turned him down as he seemed overly eager to be a martyr and I didn’t want to encourage him. He spent a good two hours trying to tell me about Jesus Christ. I tried explaining to him I was raised an Adventist and probably knew the bible better than he did. I don’t think he understood. But I was kind of drunk and my thoughts we muddled so I couldn’t talk much and he talked too much. At one point he said I was difficult to talk to, I responded by asking what he wanted? Shortly after I called it a night. Strange man.

Another night I met a man who claimed to be the equivalent a prince in one of the Tlingit tribe clans. This guy was something, I don’t even know where to begin. So lets start with the history of his tribe according to him. His was the only tribe to resist the russians. His tribe was also one of the few who had developed some primitive metal working skills with copper. This allowed them to make copper plates they’d insert into their clothing to use as armor against gun bullets. I forget the details, but at some point the tribe was mostly wiped out. While my memory is hazy, I think he was talking about the Battle of Sitka, To the point where his family were the only remaining clan “royalty” left. They moved inland a way and began repopulating again. They were also a warfaring tribe, launching raids on nearby tribes and sometimes as far south as the tribes found in the Salish Sea. He was proud of this history and wanted to reclaim the glory of his former tribe. How was he going to do this? Well, lets talk about his personality a bit first. When he was younger he used to smuggle alcohol into his community which was what is a called “dry community”. No alcohol is allowed in these communities. He’d then sell it to the locals for large sums. But first he had to drive out all the other competition, which he apparently did through fairly hostile means. So one of the sons of the tribe’s chief sold liquor to the local alcoholics so he could make a few bucks off his own people. He was proud of this. After finishing high school he joined the army where he served several years in the middle east. What he did I am not sure. I have noticed many Native Americans in Alaska join the military. According to tribal rules, before he can become chief he must prove himself worthy. To do this, he apparently has to something glorious and also have a shit ton of money. The money part he was doing well in. He was working on one of the Alaskan ferries, making well over $100k a year with at least 3 months paid vacation time. What did he do with his vacation time? Work as a fisherman in Sand point. That summer he probably made another $100k in 3 months. He had ambitions of becoming a ferry captain, which earn even more. While doing this he planned on creating a secret society within his clan of select individuals who shared similar goals for this tribe. That is, make it powerful again and to become sovereign from the US and Canada. One other interesting tidbit I learned from him was how his clan treats non-native teachers. They want them to come in, teach the kids, and when tenure is getting close, they start treating the teachers like shit in order to get them to leave. The reasoning is that those teachers do not share the same culture and values so they don’t want them sticking around for too long and brainwashing the kids.

The day before I met the prince, I had been walking the dock and came upon an unsuspecting boat. I idled up to, looked at the boat admirably, and started talking with the crew. Eventually, the captain came down and tried to walk off his boat and away without talking to me. “excuse me sir, I hear your boat is specially designed for fishing salmon.” his response was “hmmph” I interpreted that as a yes. “what about the design makes it so?” He was not enthralled with the conversation, but responded. I forget what he actually said. After realizing he wouldn’t be rid of me so easily, he asked what brought me to Sand Point. I gave him my 30 second speech about my brother being a teacher and how I wanted to try my hand at fishing. At the time I was aware of how quickly reputations spread, but I wasn’t sure if the captains knew who I was yet. I was hoping they didn’t, given Dick’s reputation as a respected asshole and loudmouth I couldn’t be sure though. The captain perked up a little at this. I had heard the previous night from my brother’s captain that this guy might be looking for a new crew member due to one having alcohol problems. The captain confirmed this during the drive back to my brothers place. The captain was kind enough to drop me off, although it was more an opportunity for him to access me by asking questions like “what skills do you have?” I spewed my prepared list such as “I know my way around a wrench” and so on. The next night I was at the bar when I met the aforementioned Prince of the Tlingit, who just so happened to be a deckhand on that very same boat and was present during the drive. Which is how we ended up talking at the bar. He gave me some valuable tips on how to impress a captain. His tips were -

1: Be confident. (fair enough, I thought I had be reasonable confident, but I suppose it wasn’t a “fisherman’s confidence”, which is a completely different beast composed of boisterous, lies, charisma, and a sack full of shit.)

2: Dress for the job you want to work. (point taken, I was wearing my usual northwest Washington casual hiking clothes. I should have been wearing Carhartts covered in grease and dirt or sweatpants and a sweat shirt which is standard fisherman garb)

3: Hold yourself with confidence (I was amused when he went to point out how I was holding myself wrong, but when he had said that I immediately and subtly widened my stance, pushed my shoulders back and looked him dead in the eye. He stopped when he realized there was nothing to critique) I usually hold myself like that, but I have noticed that most people have little context for how tall I am until they are standing next to me. My guess is my facial expressions are not confidence inspiring.

All those tips are absolutely true though. Rules to live by when looking for jobs and meeting people. Going off those recommendation though, I guess I must not have left a strong impression. I ran into the captain a few days later. We chatted briefly. He abashedly mentioned his crew member had shown up to work after all, but that he’d heard the captain of the Tachyon might be looking for a deckhand. Sometimes Fortune doesn’t give you much choice in what you do. In this case, I immediately knew my brother’s captain had been talking to the other captains and they knew not only who I was but that my brother’s captain wanted me to work for his cousin Gabe, the captain of the Tachyon. It was decided what boat I’d work on before I had even set foot on the dock a week prior. My brother’s captain had suggested the Tachyon earlier, but I was resistant to the idea because it was what’s called a “set netter” which is different from Dick’s boat which was a “Purse Seiner”. The important difference is in how much money you can make. With Set Netters, you are looking at $5k — $10k for a deckhand during the summer, which is pretty much guaranteed. For a Seiner, well, you can walk away owing the captain money or you can make over a $100k in a summer. I was there for the money. But after the captain suggested I check out the Tachyon I was resigned. I knew the decision had been made for me. So I dragged my feet down the dock to the Tachyon and introduced myself to the captain. Lo and behold I had found the boat I was to work on for the month of June.

One evening before I had found my new boat, my brother and I were relaxing, reading some books when a guy walks over to us and starts talking. He was 28 years old and had just bought his first boat. He had a degree and had tried making in the civilized world but the 9 to 5 job was going no where and he wanted out. In high school he had fished near Sand Point during the summer with his father. So when he was looking for a way out of modern life, he thought back to his time in Alaska. A few hundred thousand dollars later he had himself a cute little seiner and was steaming back to Sand Point. When he arrived he found himself with a deckhand he wasn’t too fond of. So he went looking for a some potential deckhand material. He told me he was looking for a deckhand, my brother told him I was looking for a boat to work on. He told me to stop by his boat the next day. So I did. That was my introduction to the quintessential fisherman’s boat. Weed and porn magazines littered the galley table. He showed me around the boat, we talked for a bit. He had to back pedal a bit because he actually had a full crew, but there was a guy who needed to shape up. I got the sense it was drug and alcohol related. The captain had to give the crew member a chance first before canning his ass. But you could tell he really wanted to. I said I’d check back in a few days or weeks. I never talked to the captain again.

The tavern had a good atmosphere, lots of space, two pools table and was usually fairly quiet when I was there. I always wondered why. Then I stayed later one night, found out everyone showed up around midnight and drank until four in the morning after which they’d stumble back to their boats. I never lasted that long, which is too bad. I heard there is usually at least one bar fight each night. Sadly, this is the one Alaskan experience I have not seen. But I can imagine how they’d start. I played pool with one old wrinkly carpenter who worked at the local fish processing plant. He was kind and took my number saying he might know a few folks looking for a deckhand. Nice guy. Kicked my ass at pool. Three hours later I listened as he told a small and very drunk Aleut how he wanted to throw him through the tavern window. The little guy was so out of it I don’t know if he understood. Because those are fighting words in any bar in Alaska.

I did get a sense for what it must be like for women in Alaska. The night I was being proselytized the gorgeous bartender walked over and distracted the old man for a few minutes. I am not sure if she was trying to give me an opportunity to run away, even if not I should have. The story she was telling was an example of the stereotypical fisherman. Apparently some guy she knew had come up to the bar quite plastered and told her he wanted to shove his cock in her mouth. Her response was something like get the fuck out and he’s lucky her husband wasn’t in town. For any women thinking about spending time in Alaska, this is how you handle men up here. That’s to say, with a very very rough hand and sharp mouth.