Out On the Open Sea

Brandie, Joel, and I made up the crew for our commercial fishing outfit. Brandie was the owner, Joel the skipper, and I was the green crewhand who didn’t know squat. After several hours of delay, the crane operator at the docks finally launched both our skiffs, and we were off on our way to start the salmon season. The skiff Joel and I were in had twin 115 outboard motors and eight six-gallon gasoline jugs to get us to the fish camp. It normally takes five or six tanks to get there, so we had plenty of gas. Brandie drove the other skiff by himself, also with twin 115 outboards, but they were hooked straight up to two 55-gallon drums of gas, which were going to last us for the season. Besides the gas, a few bags of gear, and our coolers with the food for the season, the skiffs were completely empty. Unfortunately, since we had been delayed several hours, it was now a flood tide instead of an ebb tide. This meant that instead of millions of gallons of water flowing out of the bay, giving us a nice current to ride out on, millions of gallons of water were now flowing into the bay, so we now had to buck tide the entire way out. This added about an hour to our trip.

I didn’t really care though; I was having a blast. I was in the funnest place to ride in a skiff: right up at the bow. I can see all the open water out in front of me, and the entire time the bow is being bounced up and down on the waves, which makes for an exciting ride. Each time the boat goes down and hits a wave, a shot of sea spray jumps up into your face, so to avoid getting doused in saltwater you have to turn your head away and let it splash onto the back of your rainjacket’s hood. Occasionally I’d get the timing wrong and a nice cold wave of salt would greet my face, and invariably find its way into my mouth. All this spray that was flying into the boat made its way to the back of the boat where Joel was, and collected in the slop bin at his feet. Eventually this filled up, and when it did so, he showed me how to open the plug at the bottom and let the water drain out. We were going fast enough that the other water couldn’t come in.

Before we set off that day, we had thought we’d seen a break in the weather. Well, we were right. We had most definitely thought we’d seen a break. This turned out to be most definitely false. In fact, the longer we were out there bucking tide, the larger the waves got, and the harder the wind blew. This made even more water splash up over the sides, and the skiff banged down harder and harder on the water. As time went on, it became more and more difficult to stay on without falling over, and so I steadily made my way to the rear of the boat. Next thing you know I’m all the way at the back with Joel and the gas tanks. Speaking of which, we had to change gas tanks even before getting out of the little bay of Egegik. This was an alarming sign, because we should have been far out of the bay before needing to swap tanks. Joel decided it’d be best to just run one engine, so that way we’d be sure to have enough gas to make it.

Sure enough, the storm intensified. The waves kept getting bigger and bigger. What had started out as a choppy day soon became three-foot seas.

Joel’s face became stern, “I’m hoping this will settle down once we get out of the bay. Often times it’s actually calmer out there.”

Partly reassured, I, well, just stood there; not that it mattered at all that I was partly reassured, because what else was I supposed to do out in a boat in rough seas? At any rate, we continued on. Once we passed the final sand bar and made it out into the open sea, things didn’t really get better. In fact, they got much worse. Now we were driving through five-foot seas, and the amount of spray coming over the sides was incredible. As the hours went by, the waves grew higher and higher, and our gas tanks became lighter and lighter. Three times we hit the crest of a wave wrong and went airborne before slamming down like a sledge hammer on the water below. This was kind of fun, but I knew it was a great way to flip a boat, and we’d surely die if that happened.

Everybody knows the ocean is big, but it was only now that I fully realized the sheer massiveness of the ocean. I even had a taste of what the Israelites must have experienced walking through the Red Sea. When we were in the trough of the wave there was a wall of water on either side high enough to scare the living daylights out of me. When we were climbing to the top of the wave our entire skiff would be at the steepest angle till we made it to the top, where we could see the land off in the distance and catch a glimpse of Brandie’s boat before being brought back below to the bottom of the wave. Few things will rejuvenate your prayer life better than being tossed around like a cork in twenty-two foot seas.

All of a sudden, it hit us. We went airborne and as soon as we slammed down on the water a wave crashed into us broadside. Joel and I were smacked across the head with a surge of water, and our boat took on water over the side before once again righting itself. We carried on, and I kept praying that we’d just make it through and arrive safely. It was a constant fight to approach each wave correctly; one slip up and we’d be dead or drowning. Probably the scariest thing though was that I had absolutely no power whatsoever over the situation. All I could do is trust the skill of my skipper and pray God would keep us safe. And pray I did: “Lord, please keep us safe, but if it’s my time to go, I am ready. But if I do make it back home, I’ll be content, even if we don’t catch any fish this season. Lord, grant us peace!”

Just then Joel shouted, “Oh boy!” (Actually, that’s not what he said, but we’ll just leave it there.) “Our plug came out, we’re taking on water!”

I looked down at my feet, and he wasn’t lying. Water had filled up the entire slop bin and we were ankle deep already.

Joel started giving orders, “The plug came out when we hit that wave, it’s at the bottom of the slop bin. Take off the grate and find it!”

I quickly started trying to get the grate undone, but the water had already completely covered the grate and I couldn’t see what I was doing. Never having opened the grate before, I was at a loss for what to do.

Then Joel roared, “Get that stinking grate out!!”

I yelled back, “I can’t, I don’t know how to open it!”

Filled with frustration, he gave me the wheel, and for a few frightening seconds I steered while he got the grate open and threw it to the front of the boat. “Start bailing!” he barked while taking the wheel back. I grabbed up the nearest bucket and began bailing, while thoughts rushed through my mind: “I am literally bailing for my life. In the middle of the sea. With twenty-foot waves. I can’t believe this is happening! Keep us safe Lord!”

I didn’t think about this at the time, but I’m really thankful that I didn’t scoop up the plug in my bucket and throw it overboard. We would have been in a real tight spot indeed.

Adrenaline kicked in. I’ve never pitched buckets so fast in my life, and amazingly, it was fast enough. The water slowly lowered beneath the level of the remaining half of the grate, and so I left my bucket and started running my hands all around the bottom of the slop bin.

“It’s not here!” I yelled.

“It’s gotta be down there,” Joel bellowed back, “look under the other half of the grate!”

I got down on my knees and thrust my arm under the water beneath the other grate. It just about froze my whole left arm, but I kept groping around for the plug. At last, the tip of my finger touched the end of it, which, of course, was in the far corner of the slop bin.

“I can touch it!” “Get it then!” But my arm wasn’t long enough. I tried and tried and tried. Finally, I went all in, jamming my arm in so hard that the metal dug into my skin. Two of my fingers managed to grasp the tip of the plug, and I pulled it out. I placed the plug back in the hole and clamped it shut. We both breathed a sigh of relief.

But we weren’t out of the woods yet. During all that commotion, we had been driven off course and lost sight of Brandie’s skiff. We were alone on the water, and all our gas tanks were perilously light and we were running on fumes. We carried on another thirty minutes or so before catching up with Brandie, who had stopped and waited for us.

Joel hollered across the waves to Brandie, “Stay close, we’re gonna run out of gas soon!” After another hour of driving, the sea calmed down to a mere six feet and we ran used up the last of our gas. We didn’t have the tools to get anything out of the 55-gallon drums, so Brandie had to pull us with a strap. If we were going slow before, now we were really going slow. After what seemed like ages, we made it to the Ugashik district, but since it was now low tide, we had to wait on the sand bars for another hour. At long last, the water became deep enough to float us, and we went the final twenty minutes farther and made it to shore.

I never thought I’d be so happy to be on land again, but I was elated. After seven hours of being beaten around by the waves, with no food and little water, we were worn through. Four hours later, after getting all the necessary work done to set up camp, we sat down to eat dinner. We rehashed what had just happened, thankful we had made it through safely. A little while later I was lying in my bunk, about to drift off to sleep. “Thank you Lord for the life you have given me!”