my return home...for now

i am not sure if people keep reading this. i have been terribly inconsistent. my journal was stolen halfway through my trip at a bus stop in mendoza, western argentina. i have struggled entering into writing again. hopefully the new year will bring new inspiration. i am leaving for tahoe tomorrow and will post when i return a little bit about each of my friends that embarked the first part of the adventure with me in buenos aires.

dostoyevsky

"the awful thing is that beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. god and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield is the heart of man. but a man always talks of his own ache."

- dmitri karamzov

words from james joyce

"he wondered whether he could write a poem to express his idea. perhaps gallaher might be able to get it into some london paper for him. could he write something original? he was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him like an infant hope. he stepped onward bravely. every step brought him nearer to london, farther from his own sober inartistic life."

from "a little cloud"

a serious inquiry into the true meaning of devotion (solely with its relation to the life of a sports fanatic)

over the mere twenty two years that i have lived, i have always been a sports fan. i remember at an early age going to a very cold and windy candlestick park with nana and papa, bundled in jackets and beanies, to watch the 49ers play. i remember giants games at candlestick and a's games at the coliseum. i remember super bowl games and playoff disappointments. i remember lineups and statistics. i think it would be safe to say that i have wasted parts of my memory on sports. i could have used this space inside my head for economics, sat words, the spanish langauge, and probably many other useful skills or tidbits of knowledge. and yet the strange thing about my little sports mania problem is that it would hardly be considered a problem in buenos aires.

my devotion to sports is a fleeting as the cal bears' recent success in the top 25. the life of a sports fanatic in buenos aires takes a much different form. beneath a blazing argentine sun, matt and i made our way out to boca to see the legendary boca stadium and watch boca juniors play infront of the most maniacal fans on earth. the streets of boca were lined with police. the sun lit the dark blue and bright yellow striped stadium. the green, red, pink, blue and purple houses surrounding the stadium instilled energy among all the fans. matt and i opted for the safest seats we could find. unlike any sporting game i have ever attended, the expensive seats are high and the cheap seats are on the field. the difference being: if any celebrity like matt damon or jack nicholson, kate hudson or owen wilson sat on the field, they would be seriously risking their lives. this is the key difference that must be grapsed when understanding the craziness of argentine futbol. the stadium puts all the tourists up top for their safety. so matt and i paid more to sit farther away, but walk away with our lives and bodies intact.

after making our trek to the top of the stadium, we watched the end of boca's youth team play. the fanaticos were starting to warm up. flags and banners lined the stadium. blue and yellow were as common as starbucks in san francisco. when boca juniors took the field, the stadium erupted with newspaer confetti, drums pounding and songs echo across the walls. this was only the beginning. during the next ninety minutes of futbol, the songs only grew louder and the drum beat furiously. on the other side of the stadium at the very top sat a small section of black and red dressed estudiantes fans. when estudiantes struck first with a shocking goal, the estudiantes fans went loco. they danced and cheered as loud as the boca fans. but when boca equalized in the second half, the stadium shook. the concrete moved to rhythym of the dance induced earthquake. the fans rushed forward to the gates that gripped the ground and separated the players on the field from incoming chaos and madness.

the devotion of boca fans is unquestioned. their song thundered despite being down a goal for most the game. i saw fathers hoisting their sons in these sections admidst the madness to jump and sing along. to be a boca fan is to be born a boca fan. most of boca is a very poor neighborhood. boca juniors carries the hope of a broken community. futbol is the pride of boca. the life in their songs. the joy in their dance. and the twelth man (the name of the fans) shakes their arms as one showing the solidarity of their devotion.

the boca hymn:
“Boca Juniors; Boca Juniors, you great soccer champion – you who awaken love, enthusiasm and faith in our chests. Your blue and golden banner was unfurled in Europe as a triumphant emblem, wherever it was called on to fight.

Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail….

With your victorious emblem, in colors gold and blue, our vigorous youth waxes enthusiastic on the pitch….. Your colors electrify, triumphant Old Boca, and your battlefields cover you with glory.

Boca is our victorious chant, for never is it afraid to fight ; Boca is enthusiasm and valor, Boca…move forward to prevail…."

captain stephen jackson

i must say also that even though i am in buenos aires, i am very excited for the upcoming golden state warriors season and even more thrilled to see stephen jackson named as a captain.

quote from espn.com: "Webster's Dictionary defines a captain as "a person of importance or influence in a field." Stephen Jackson's past might not have put him in that category, but his future certainly will."

the wonder of delivered ice cream

the weekend was sunny, but now rain has crept back into buenos aires. it is actually hard to say the rain creeps in here. the recent thunder echoed like cannons and the lightning illuminated our living room. when it rains, it pours. october in buenos aires is not much different than october in northern california. some brisk sunny mornings and some dark, cloudy and rainy days. although, spring should be arriving shortly. october usually means pumpkins and post season baseball. last night, mark and i huddled around his computer to watch the yankees and indians play game 4 in new york. we argued about calls mainly due to the distorted picture on our computer screen. mark sold his soul to the devil for a small price and became a new york yankee fan. (side note: we were called "yankees" at a party on saturday night by some argentines. so, i corrected them saying, "no, mark is a yankee" and needless to say, this is one of many jokes that are lost in translation.)

on this rainy monday evening in buenos aires, our stomachs cried for ice cream (helado). buenos aires ice cream is unbelievable. it would be injust to even attempt a description of how wonderful this ice cream is. our refigerator is decorated with a rainbow colored assortment of magnetic advertisements. after reading an orange magnet about how much ice cream we could rceive for only a few pesos, our appetites were searching for the nearest phone. we gave into our heart's deepest desire like a bunch of first graders on a hot summer day willing to break open their piggy banks. calling in an order is a very scary thing to do as it has to be done in castellano. usually, mark has the duties as our fluent castellano speaker. bravely, no, sacrificially, i volunteered my castellano skills to bring this forbidden ice cream home to our apartment and better assist our baseball watching. with the phone shaking in my hands, i begin to dial the numbers. 4...8...3...1... i quickly hung up the phone, heart pounding, sweaty palms as if i was going to ask a girl out, realizing i did not know what flavors we wanted. after a lengthing dissertation, we settled on four flavor. frambuesa (raspberry), tramontana (not sure, but good), mousse de chocolate, and dulce de leche. i wiped the sweat from my brow, tightened my grip on the plastic casing of the phone and my fingers steadied to enter the digits. worried that it may be too late, i soon discovered that it is never too late in the evening for ice cream. i slowly conveyed our desired flavors and even though the man on the other end may have been slightly irritated with my castellano, i was able to hang up the phone a new hero in our apartment. not even the rain could stop the ice cream man's delivery (the rain actually did stop the internet company from coming one day). our bell rang in about twenty minutes and in shock, the three of us (mark, andrew and i) scrambled off the couch to find our spare change as if the ice cream man may leave for another block any minute now. mark stayed glued to the computer watching the slow demise of his yankee dynasty. the ice cream was in a cylindrical, white foam container. this ice cream could be the eighth wonder of the world. the yankees lost. a rainy night in buenos aires.

quiet monday afternoons

mondays in buenos aires are almost as slow as sundays. many shops are closed and the streets are not too busy. the city feels as if it has dozed off for a nap. the air outside on monday was cold and crisp much like a sunny winter morning back home. a soft breeze blew on our faces as mark, andrew and i began searching for the hidden bike stores of buenos aires. the subway dropped us near one bike store where i tried to communicate that we were looking for used road bikes. it took a lot of hand motions and broken spanish (or castellana as the argentines say) before we saw our first used road bike. the bike was a classic, from the seventies, but out of our price range. our attempts to find the other bike stores were futile. either the internet lied or these stores no longer existed, most likely the latter. although, the internet has lied to us several times about directions.

our wanderings led us to the polo grounds, where there seemed to be an upcoming horse race. we walked beneath the overpass and beside walls of rainbow colored graffiti. as we walked up a small street, covered in shade from the trees overhead, mark spotted a black, rusted one speed bike. the bike immediately grabbed his imagination as the bike he would want to ride. we set off hoping to find such a bike. mark stopped and decided he woud leave a note in the spokes for the owner. andrew and i waited for mark to return, but after about ten minutes, we were growing impatient. as andrew and i arrived back by the old, black bike, we found mark inside the store talking to the owner. the locksmith store was small, but operated by five men, probably best friends who enjoyed arguing about futbol and politics.

mark soon had struck a deal with the store owner and while he gleefully went to search for a bank, andrew and i stayed to chat with these men, who were very interested in these young american boys. they asked us what we thought of argentina so far. we love this country. they asked what we thought of president bush. before i could answer, fredericko let me know what he thought. fredericko spoke the most with us. fredericko is a few inches shorter than i am with slicked black hair and golden teeth. he was wearing a red striped adidas jacket and nike shoes. he spoke much like italian mobsters i remember from the movies, very passionate and with large arm movements. fredericko was not too fond of president bush or the woman that will soon become president of argentina. he gave bush a thumbs down, jfk a thumbs up and clinton was asi-asi (so so). i think it was largely dependent on who had visited argentina. andrew soon struck up a conversation about futbol with fredericko. i filled in parts of mising vocabulary for andrew, but mostly the love of sports replaced our language deficiencies.

mark returned with his money and we left the shop with smiles and warm handshakes. andrew and i were extremely excited about the conversations we were able to sustain with these men in the shop. the men in the shop were extremely excited to lend us advice about the city and where we had to visit while staying in argentina. a great way for us to spend a quiet monday afternoon. andrew and i left for home on the subway, while mark rolled away on his new, old, black bike.

hope. live. roof.

after a week in buenos aires, i could see that my only hope would to be able to live with a roof over my head. the search for an apartment has been extremely difficult. without the assistance of mark ¨stars¨ arrieta and his wonderful spanish, we would be in the dark altogether and all together. i am in an internet place and in a couple minutes, we are going to walk down the street to sign on our place. finding a place for seven was an impossible task, so stars, mark, andrew and i will all be living together. aaron, brian and ben are still working on landing their place. i have to head out. i´ll storytell a little later. hasta luego!

sunday market in san telmo

there's poop on your shoes!

i hope you can appreciate the immaturity of this post. buenos aires is a unique city in many ways, but i have to say i have never seen quite a scene of dog poop as i have here. to each his own and each of us have had our own experience with this animal littering. over my expansive lifetime of twenty two years, i have stepped in dog crap, maybe one of two times. over the past two days, andrew, aaron, mark and i have all lined the treads of our shoes and beared the awful stench that would thus follow us throughout our walks of the city. i'd like to be viewing the old buildings around me, the parks the run through palermo viejo, but the war zone that invades the pavement is too dangerous to be ignored. nonetheless, i guess we are provided with a little entertainment waiting to see who treads unluckily next. i have also really enjoyed the street stencils. there is some pretty neat graffiti art on the walls, but many times there has been such a disregard for public places. the picture above is of stencil that was on a wall outside the zoo.

wednesday in buenos aires

yesterday, we arrived in buenos aires. the city was covered in clouds, darkened by the coming rain. our apartment is in abasto, a little more ¨worn¨ part of the city. we were able to walk around and see many old buildings. i am in a cafe right now so i am posting quickly. we ate a whole cow last night. everything. throat. heart. arteries. liver. intestines. the better parts also. i still have a strange aftertaste and i can´t say my stomach felt exactly normal this morning, but i am still breathing and so are my fellow companions, mark, aaron and andrew. i will put up our address and some photos when we move into a more permanent place in a week or two. i am working on a little more significant post for tomorrow. i am so excited to be here and i am walking back to the apartment for a little nap before we head out for dinner around eleven! hasta luego!

ahem! adventure! part 2

i am within a week of leaving the country. i am excited (see picture). so onto the next adventure and the new stories i hope to be able to write about. i will be living in buenos aires for the fall. if you feel inclined, come visit. if not, write me letters. i am hoping that in addition to responding to emails, to actually write letters and revive the lives of those postmen who have felt neglected since al gore created the internet and email. i look forward to writing, reading, learning spanish, buying a cheap bike and being with my friends.

"your life is a journey you must travel with a deep consciousness of god". 1 peter 1:18

dean anderson

"sean! get up. go pull the hook!"

the sun was just cracking in the distance. it was probably around four thirty a.m. this was a more pleasant wake up call i received during my time on the boat with dean anderson. i could never figure out why he always referred to the anchor as the hook. usually, his gutteral groans and expletive filled complaining were our wake up call. other times, a conversation would travel from the cabin in the bunks. who dean was talking with i will never know or understand, but he seemed to enjoy talking to himself. dean talking to dean conversations would go something like this.

"i can't believe that sno pac is shutting down for the day. my luck. i decide to transfer to ugashik and what happens? boats are getting thirty thousand pounds an opener in naknek (dean has a tendency for the dramatic because only one boat, one time in naknek landed thirty thousand pounds in one opener). i should call and see how my dog is doing. why am i out here? i don't need to be doing this. i want to watch the net for while. good thing i'm this. my hand hurts. why isn't this stove working? i am freezing! i am starting to feel like and old man (you are an old man)."

his conversations with himself were mostly incoherent, scattered and often a tool to make james or i feel bad for sleeping (to be fair, dean usually doubled if not tripled my sleep). his conversations were in all actuality much more colorful because dean has mastered the use of all expletives in noun, verb, adjective and adverb forms to say the least. during my first week of work with dean, i thought dean was attempting to create conversation with me. i interjected my thoughts at one point and dean turned to me with surprise. he was so accustomed to talking to himself that he was unaware that a.) he spoke aloud and b.) that another living being could interact in his conversations.

dean is probably in his mid to later fifties. he lives in cour de laine, idaho and he loves potatoes. apparently in idaho or "dean world", potatoes are "taters" (pronounced "taiters"), a term i do not think i have heard since second or third grade. dean loves taters with breakfast. he loves taters with lunch. he loves taters with an afternoon snack. he loves taters at dinner and he loves taters as a midnight snack. he loves taters cooked with a whole onion and fried with a whole bottle of oil. i sabotaged his tater-loving one night. i woke up to empty out our five pound bag of taters into the dark river waters while dean dreamed of his wonderful tater breakfast. i have never felt such satisfaction for such a hateful action.

to further elaborate, dean's eating habits are comparable to some sort of hyena mixed with these bugs i recently watched on planet earth whose sole purpose is to eat bodily excrements. needless to say, dean has never been married. dean has/had a nervous eating habit. when struggling with a decision, dean eats. i saw him put down two whole packages of oreos in one sitting. during another tough decision, a whole container of jelly beans met its end. he emptied cookies and candy during these decisions without blinking an eye. if dean were a jellybean, he would be some sort of combination from the harry potter jellybean collection. maybe mix an earthworm, earwax, rotten egg and dirt jellybeans and you would discover dean anderson.


dean is oddly shaped, maybe like a pear. mainly, this is due to his very unorthodox eating habits, but his shape is not helped by his very unflattering clothes (see next paragraph. after spending two weeks of preparing (every morning) a breakfast better than what most kings eat (pancakes, eggs, bacon, taters and onions), james and i could no longer digest anything dean desired. we brainstormed a new plan. "the great bacon and grease sabotage: our efforts to permanently clog dean's arteries and end the salmon fishing season". we chose not to eat anything i cooked for breakfast because we believed dean would eat it all regardless. when the sun came up, i would fry up dean's breakfast, including that pound of bacon he craved. everyday without any help, dean ate it all. sometimes, he would use the bacon for bacon and mayonnaise sandwiches. dean continued to stretch sweatpants that did not need to be stretched any further.

i wish i could truly describe the magnificence/horror of dean's choice of clothing. one of the greatest parts of fishing is that all one has to wear are sweatpants, t-shirts and fishing boots. as simple and non-descript as these outfit creations can be/are, dean's nonetheless demanded attention. these outfits caused you to cringe with horror. but still as bad as they were, you could not look away. He pulled his sweatpants above his belly button and right below his nipples. the legs of his sweats looked like an adolescent who has outgrown his pants. he would pull his socks up and attempt to tuck his sweats into his socks. then he would put on a flourescent striped (think hammer pants) shirt and sweatshirt and tuck them into his sweatpants which would be already giving a wedgie better than any junior high bully. it is hard to make a statement with your clothing in alaska, but dean could drop jaws wherever he went.

"so, do you have any more hunting trips planned?" i asked dean sensing that he might start feeling excluded because of james' dominance in the story telling arena.

"well, last summer i went on a hunting safari in africa. i would like to hunt red deer in england or new zealand," he replied as he watched our net out the cabin window.

"really? new zealand or england? hmm. those are two pretty different place," i shot back with excitement to see how dean's grasp of geography was.

"no they are right next to each actually," he responded confidently and leaving me grateful for having passed mrs. brunkal's map tests in eighth grade.

up to this point, i have only shared about the humorous memories that make up the character of dean anderson. these are the thoughts i try to remember rather than the side of dean that darkened days in alaska. i try to forget how he threw countless plastics and waste into the ocean with no regard. his anger over meaningless tasks would only trigger a rage to throw more and more harmful waste into the water. dean is a liar. he lacks integrity in his work. throughout the trip, dean would receive calls about real estate back in idaho and many times the calls were about money issues in which dean had cheated and lied to clients or partners. never once have i seen our capacity for darkness as i did this summer. the deception on our boat ran deep and i walked carefully along the web of lies dean spun. whether with james or dean, they both sought and cared only about their own well being. shadows lay over each man's heart and endless greed and exploitation ran through their veins. dean's selfishness was unlike any i have ever experienced. he cuts all corners. he burns all bridges. dean desired to do the least amount of work (preferably none), experience the least amount of danger, and leave james and i with as little as possible along the way.

this is a sad story because part of why dean talks to himself is because he is lonely. he has no one left that he has not betrayed or hurt. fishermen speak poorly of him and how he treats his crew. i was told on numerous occasions to look out for how dean spins finances. i have never felt so cheated. yet, i have come home to a place where i am known and loved. dean goes home to a dog, a business where he continues to cheat anyone he can and conversations with himself. i wish that i could write about seeing a change in his story, but unfortunately, the dean i met has never sought out any sort of redemption.

i recently read what i had written in my journal during one of my last days in alaska when i learned about how dean had purposely deceived me. the first is a quote from mother teresa and the second is from romans 14:17-18.

"love to pray. feel often during the day the need for prayer. and take trouble to pray. prayer enlarges the heart until it is capable of containing god's gift of himself. ask and seek, and your hearts will grow big enough to receive him and keep him as your own."

"for the kingdom of god is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the holy spirit, because anyone who serves christ in this way is pleasing to god and approved by men."

i just started working on my post about captain dean. i have been studying for the g.r.e., playing tennis and such at home. i should have it up in the next couple days. until then, here is a video to capture either the madness or greatness of spring sing.

james robinson

james robinson is twenty four years old and from boston, massachusetts. he is a couple inches shorter than me, but i think his arms are larger than my thighs. i met james in the king salmon airport on june twenty fourth. wearing black cargo pants and a black, sleeveless t-shirt, he lifted his army bag over his shoulders upon hearing his name called in the small airport. i'm not sure what i expected, but i was somewhat not surprised.

"alaska. i can't believe i'm here. twenty hours of flying. i'm doing this so i can get on one of those crab boats from the deadliest catch. have you met any of those guys?" james asked me with a thick boston accent as he lit a cigarette.

i hadn't met anyone from the show, but i would soon enough and i didn't really want to dash his dreams by telling him that salmon fishing and crab fishing are quite different. so i asked james where he was living back in the lower fourty eight.

"yeah i live in florida. kinda a hic town. i really knew i was a redneck when my wife and girlfriend were pregnant at the same time. my wife lives in boston and my girl is down in florida," james seemingly boasted to me.

i realized that i might be hard pressed at times for conversation with james. i kept my eyes on the road as we headed back to the boat. i drove the old ford along the two lane road that connected king salmon and naknek. in between the the two towns, there are open fields of green tundra and bush that run alongside the naknek river. the forget me nots dotted the white lines of the highway. the fish would be arriving in bistol bay soon.

i pieced together the story of james' life throughout our time on the water. it was tragic in many ways, but i found some of his story fascinating. i soon learned that conversation was more exciting than i could ever imagine. i think authors search their lifetimes to find these characters. for example, james is a nun chuck instructor in florida and is training to be a ufc fighter like chuck liddell.

"how are you with a bow staff?" i asked with a chuckle.

"i'm ok. my brother is pretty deadly with a bow staff." james lit another cigarette as we drifted another net in the naknek river.

unfortunately, the napoleon dynamite joke was completely lost on james. i was disappointed to say the least. i thought i was pretty witty with that question. sadly, i do not think that james understood any of my attempts at humor. to him, i was anomaly. he is probably telling his friends stories about the strange kid from california right now. a california hippy. someone who did not believe in violence? played beach volleyball? enjoyed reading books over bar fights? james called me a hippy all summer, mainly because i do not derive my fun and entertainment from gang fighting, watching fighting or craving ultra violence.

james sells swords and knives at flea markets in boston. i was delighed to hear that all his weapon paraphernalia had been left in boston. to my surprise (actually i do not think i was that surprised), i found out james had spent a substantial amount of time in jail. over the next few weeks, i would get advice on how to survive prison. james never seemed to understand that i had no intention of spending any time in prison. regardless, i was interested in any story that james willingly shared.

the stories that were shared on the back dack of this fishing boat brightened any darkness that hovered on fishing days in alaska. we talked about who would win in a fight. a hippo versus a polar? luke skywalker versus bruce lee? superman versus batman? we often debated movies. james loves any movie with gratuitous sex, violence and jean claude van damme. we never agreed on movies. good will hunting was probably the only movie that i remember james agreeing was a good movie. in some ways, i think james sees himself as a will hunting. a smart kid in a poor environment. unfortunately, he does not hope for a good will hunting ending. rather, he would truly love to live as tony montana and experience the real life scarface. james does not believe in any sort of justice except the kind that he can inflict.

our time in alaska was nearing an end, when james began to go silent. i was slightly worried when james went silent, mostly because the wheels that turned in his head worked somewhat differently than mine. silence for me meant that i was thinking about california sunsets or argentina adventures. my thoughts wandered to my family and friends. maybe what would happen on the next season of lost. sometimes i would daydream about watching a baseball game or if i would buy the second harry potter book when i arrived home. nothing too substantial, but daydreaming would often assist me in making it through the day. but james was slightly scarier when he stopped talking. james told me that he often thought of ways he could "take care of" our captain dean (this is not in any sort maternal "taking care of"). these scenarios involved such things as tying dean's hoodie to the anchor and tossing him overboard. i was never too sure how serious james was about these ideas.

one afternoon james approached me on the back deck. i had less than a week before i would be returning to california. there was not too much that could bother me at the moment. james had agreed to stay on the boat into august with dean, but now the idea of being alone with dean did not seem to appealing to james. james told me that he was quitting when we arrived at the tender. he, then, proceeded to tell me that he would be going into the cabin to discuss money with dean and if he felt dean was cheating him, then i should probably stay on the back deck.

on the back deck? is he insane? so, my journey in alaska has taken a seemingly drastic turn. i may be the sole witness to a murder in a matter of minutes. all i could think of were stories james told me throughout the season about how no one who rats or snitches (translation: testifies against a criminal) can live for very long. i could see it all very clearly. i would be the key witness in james' murder trial. as i would sit on the stand and recount the details of what happened, james would darkly watch me from the defendent's chair. his gang would be in the audience writing down my name, address, etc. james would turn to them and give them some sort of signal like the ones you see in movies. i would then proceed to be put in the witness protection program and shipped to a shack in north dakota where i could live until james' gang found me and then it would be off to the desert of new mexico. i would be hunted the rest of my life just like a bad dream. all for an adventure in alaska one summer.

thankfully, james resisted any drastic measures and we arrived at the tender before any of this could happen. When he quit, the tender refused to give him a ride back to naknek and we were forced to take him back. james decided to finish the season and i was glad to no longer be the key witness for a murder trial.

home

after a long journey around bristol bay, i arrived last night in oakland. it was quite the experience. i will post some more pictures and stories over the next few days and weeks. i think i may smeel like fish for weeks to come. i am just settling in, so i'll post a few stories a little bit later.

life at sea on the bristol bay

it has been a while since i posted. hopefully some of you are still checking in. i have spent the past week fishing and figuring out how to get these sockeye salmon out of nets. the days are strange here in alaska. boats are only allowed to fish certain openings on the river in order to allow the right amount of salmon through in order to provide enough for the following year. so the fish opening can be anywhere form 8 to 4 to 12 hours. the openings are at strange times too. one was from 11 p.m to 4 a.m. we just finished fishing a 12 a.m. to 7 a.m. opening. today we transferred to the nushagak district and are waiting for it to clear. i have to head out now. i am covered in fish guts, blood and scales.

No time to Post

This is Dad posting for SeanyBigWave!!

After waiting patiently for Captain Dean to arrive for 3+ days, last Sunday was the eventful meeting. They struck their deal(got a raise after 1 day) and have been working non-stop for the week getting the boat ready an hence the reason for no posting.

Some important factoids:
1. Captain Dean snores like a grizzly bear-thank goodness for ipod earphones
2. Captain Dean starts work at 6am and ends work at 11pm-not much time to eat, but that has improved over the week.
3. The boat is about 28 feet long. It has a bucket if you get my drift.
4. The third crew member was to show up yesterday afternoon-Sunday. Sean and Dean were going out yesterday for a test run.
5. Captain Dean is type A and not a warm fuzzy, but Sean says that thru the week all is well-it better be they eat, sleep and work non-stop. He is in commercial real estate in Cour de Laine Idaho.
6. Captain Dean caught 175000 lbs of fish last year. They fish in groups in 4 areas and they are regulated by Fish & Game as to when the run is open/closed-so many salmon have to make it back up the rivers to spawn.
7. Sean is anxious to get out on the water and test his sea legs and stomach.
8. Planning to be home by the end of July-will be dependant on the season.

All is well in the booming metropolis of King Salmon and Naknek with Sean. He has learned a lot from Dean on boat preparation and fishing, but now is ready for the real experience.

More to follow...but the posts will now be intermittent as we most likely will not hear from him as frequently.

walking along the road

i was looking for a ride yesterday, when an old green bronco pulled into the turnoff and the driver said he would give me a ride after he bought some stuff inside the store. the back of the car was piled high with nets and fishing gear, so his buddy told me to just climb in and sit on top of all the stuff. the driver returned and with total dismay said to me, "you're sitting on the eggs!?!?" i did not know what to do. i was freaking out looking for the eggs until he started laughing at me and said that he was only playing with me. his name was ron. i asked him how far he was going and he responded by saying that he was shipping me to shanghai on a slave ship. ron was really kind. after he dropped me off, he told me to stop by his boat whenever for some coffee.

i am heading off tomorrow to meet my skipper, dean. we are going to talk about a contract and so it looks like this could be my ship. i talked with some people around town and they said dean was a good guy and that he runs a safe ship! well, that is all for now because i am getting kicked off in the library.

the sea is calling

yesterday was bitter cold. it rained all morning. someone said it thirty seven degrees outside. so i decided that hitchhiking would be miserable with all the rain and wind and it was a better idea to try and stay warm all day. an older man with a large, white santa-like beard came up to me as i strolled through the shipyard. "how ya doing today son?" "i'm fine thanks," i shivered my reply. he cracked a smile beneath his beard and asked me, "are ya missin' the california weather?" i smiled at his warmth, "yes, i most definitely am". i'm not sure how, but somehow alaskans seem to have a radar for people not from alaska. people especially seem to notice that i am from california. the other day a waitress asked me if i was from california. is it that obvious? oh well.

anyways, some news on the job front. i think i may have a job. i have been talking with a captain who is in seattle and is trying to buy a boat. i spoke with him this morning and said he was 99.9% sure he would be landing this boat and he would need me. so booyah! hopefully, this works out. he seems like a good guy. i am praying that this will be a good situation. i will call him back this afternoon and know for sure.

i, also, realized that i have not answered a lot of questions from the comments. i am eating. mark and i brought some food up and for dinner, i walk into town and eat from a multitude of restraunt choices, eddie's or the king ko inn. the mosquitoes are huge and everywhere. one of the deckhands on the boat next to me was bit by one and his eye was swollen shut. i'm staying dry. the rain is on and off. it is amazing how fast the weather can change around here. i miss everyone! until next time...

some light is coming

i thought that without my partner in crime, mark, that this adventure would be completely and unbearably miserable. however, i have survived and i am really enjoying the people i meet throughout the day. last night, i hung out with two guys in our yard, taylor and adam. taylor and adam go to washington state university. taylor has been fishing with his grandpa since he was thirteen and now he is runnning his grandpa's boat. both of them have been really helpful in offering me some advice on boats. also, they are both quite the sports fanatics and it was nice to talk about sports for the first time in a while with these guys. most fishermen i have talked to only talk about fish and having such a limited knowledge in fish, i can only talk around that topic for a few minutes. i also met a captain named john webb and his boat is called the webslinger. awesome. john is an older man with wavy red hair and a bushy red moustache. also awesome. one of his men backed out and he told me to keep checking in with him for a possible spot. this boat is like "the" boat in the yard. it would be a huge land for me if i could get on his boat. i met with another captain this morning about a possible spot. i have been super encouraged as i am meeting people who need to fill deckhand positions. i keep praying for that right boat and captain and a lot of fish in the net.

wandering, encounters in alaska

today is an awfully cold day in alaska. i woke up in the boat this morning freezing and the wind was howling outside. i have been pleasantly surprised by the people i am meeting here. most of the people my age have been really helpful and supportive. i met a guy named patrick. he is from minnesota and has been living all over the world, most recenlty spain and finland. he spent his past winter in north lake tahoe at squaw. he has been putting a good word in for me around town. i met an old captain named chuck on one of my first days here. chuck has been fishing for somewhere over thirty years. he has a great white beard and wears the same blue sweats and jacket everyday. yesterday, he invited me onto his ship for some water and a conversation. he was giving me all the advice about how to get a job on a boat. he told me stories about his time in vietnam, which he referred to as the university of southeast asia (we were talking about how i finished college), and the winters he spent on crabbing boats (the real deadliest catch). he has been a great person and everyday is offering me some new advice. i met andy last night who is the captain of his own boat. andy has been having some problems with one of his crewmen and may fire him and if he does i could be on his boat. i would be super excited about this and i hope it happens soon! my other new friend is named dan. he works in the control tower in the airport. dan gave mark and i a lift on our first day and since i have to walk past the control tower to the boat yard, i spend a little time in the control tower talking with dan and watching planes land and take off. dan's an excellent photography. he has spent a lot of time here and for people here all year, this place seems a bit lonely. i think dan has enjoyed the company. i'm praying that i get on the boat with andy and take off on sunday. i really like the sound of that.

well i wandered into to the naknek library to post again. today i am on my own. mark and i rock-paper-scissored for who would take the job offer last night and i lost. mark shipped out this morning at six a.m. our neighboring boat in the harbor took off this morning and gave my a lift into naknek (about 15 miles about the road from king salmon). it was the greatest feeling to be on a boat. matt, the skipper of that boat, has been teaching us a lot about salmon fishing. i have learned so much already. he has really been looking out for us. it was sad to see them leave today. last night matt went with me to me a possible skipper to make sure i was going to be in a good situation. the skipper didn't make it into town though, so hopefully i will get a chance to meet him tonight. matt is only 22 and he is the captain of his own boat. he has been fishing for since he was 13. anyways, i am going to wander the docks again today. i would be really stoked if i could meet this captain tonight and get onto his boat. hope the outside world is doing well. this town can feel like an island. i am more excited, though, about getting on a boat and starting the season.

alaska begins

so mark and i stepped off the plane and into a bug filled city named king salmon. the bugs are awfully annoying because whenever you are outside, they swarm around your face. we found our first home, the kirra b. this is our friend's boat that we are staying on until we find a job. we have been going back and forth between naknek and king salomn, wandering the docks looking for a job. we might have just received our first offer, which would split us up, but it may be a great job. pray for us in this decision that we will probably be making by tonight! we have met some interesting characters already. alaska is an interesting place. until my next post, i love and miss you all.

ahem! adventure!

i am leaving tomorrow for king salmon, alaska. my flight leaves around nine from san francisco. a couple hours to seattle and then, i will be spending the night in the airport waiting for my morning flight to alaska. i will step foot into completely unknown terrain around noon on saturday. contrary to popular belief, i will not be seen on the discovery channel this summer or anytime in the near future. this seemed to be a popular misconception people had during conversations about my summer plans. once we find the boat that we will be sleeping on for the next few weeks, mark and i will begin pursuing our dream careers of salmon fishing. well, probably not our dream careers, but this is the beginning of our adventures.