Dean J. Adams - Four Thousand Hooks: A True Story of Fishing and Coming of Age on the High Seas of Alaska

FOUR
THOUSAND
HOOKS

A True Story of Fishing
and Coming of Age
on the High Seas of Alaska

DEAN ADAMS

2012 by the University of Washington Press

16 15 14 13 12 5 4 3 2 1

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University of Washington Press
PO Box 50096, Seattle, WA 98145, USA
www.washington.edu/uwpress

Printed and bound in the United States of America
Designed by Ashley Saleeba
Composed in Warnock Pro; display type set in Cubano

Please visit fourthousandhooks.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Adams, Dean J.
Four thousand hooks : a true story of fishing and coming of age
on the high seas of Alaska / Dean J. Adams.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-295-99197-9 (cloth : alk. paper)
1. Adams, Dean J. 2. FishersUnited StatesBiography.
3. FisheriesAlaska. 4. AlaskaDescription and travel.
I. Title. II. Title: 4,000 hooks.
SH20.A36A3 2012 639.2092dc23 2012019070

Diagrams drawn by Joan Forsberg
Map drawn by Pat Grant

The paper used in this publication is acid-free and meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

FOR TWO WOMEN AND FIVE MEN

DIANE AND LORI
JACK, FREDDY, KAARE, WALLY, AND CHRIS

Profile diagram of the Grant

1Chute

2Rudder

3Propeller

4Skiff support

5Skiff

6Captains stateroom (behind pilothouse)

7Rigging

8Anchor winch

9Checkers

10Hatch cover

11Scuppers (3)

12Roller

13Gurdy

14Gear anchors on rail

15Companionway

16Galley stove exhaust pipe

17Sky light

18Ventilation funnel

19Ships anchor

20Guard

21Water line

22Main boom & deck lights

Cutaway diagram of the Grant

1Focsle

2Fishhold

3Engine room

4Aft cabin

5Lazarette

6Ships anchor

7Ventilation funnel

8Companionway & ladder

9Bunks (6)

10Table & bench

11Sink

12Stove & fridge

13Water tank

14Forward mast

15Aft mast

16Antenna

17Aft boom

18Main boom

19Gurdy & coiler seat (black bar)

20Hatch combing & cover

21Anchor chain

22Anchor winch

23Ballast

24Radar

25Smokestack

26Life raft

27Pilothouse door

28Shitter

29Bait table & tent (shaded area)

30Chute

31Fuel tanks (4)flanking engine

32Main engine

33Bunks (2)

34Propeller

35Rudder

Western Gulf of Alaska and the Bering Sea

THE IMPACT JOLTED THE OLD SCHOONER. TIMBERS SHIVERED down the length of the vessel. In that moment, I understood the elasticity of one hundred tons of boat and cargo.

The collision had been sharp. Uncle Jack had told me, If we hit something... like a log... take the boat out of gear. Thatll keep the propeller safe. My book flipped out of my hands to the floor when I lunged for the engine control. The Grant slowed, cutting through the sea by momentum alone.

Just outside the railing, a huge log passed bythirty feet long, stripped of bark, and spiked with hairy splinters. Waves sloshed over its back. Most of the logs mass was below the waters surface, like an iceberg.

Freddys head popped up within the shelter of the focsle companionway. The ships cook looked riled. His eyes locked onto the log, then shot up to me inside the pilothouse. I gave him a nervous giggle that he couldnt hear, shrugged my shoulders, and smiled back with a look that said, Sorry about that.

Freddys eyes glared at me as he descended back into the focsle.

To survey the ocean ahead, I squinted, straining to see through the salt-crusted windows.

Seven weeks had passed since I had begun my education on the Alaskan ocean, learning that logs collect in lines of drift at eddies, drifting together with other flotsam and jetsamlogs, seaweed, and debrisat the borders of ocean currents.

Seven weeks ago I was fifteen years old.

Satisfied that we had clear sailing ahead, I reached up to the engine control and put the boat into forward gear, pushing the throttle handle forward. The belly of the boat was full, with 70,000 pounds of halibut packed in ice. The Grant labored to regain cruising speed.

On deck below the pilothouse, our 3,000-pound deckload lay hidden under layers of tarps. These days the halibut schooners rarely returned to port with full loads. The boat was heavy and lazy. It was a great feeling.

I wedged my butt onto the seat and had just bent over to pick up my book when the door burst open.

Freddy flew into the pilothouse. Shouting, he fought with the knob to Jacks stateroom door, trying to reach my sleeping uncle, Jack! Jack!... hey, Jack! Were taking on water in the focsle!

The door gave way with a loud crack. I heard my uncle spring out of his bunk and cry out, Huh, wh... what!

In his underwear, Jack dashed out the door, chasing after Freddy down into the focsle. In less than a minute he was back up on deck, racing to the pilothouse. His face was drawn so tight his lips were white. He reached past me, groping for the engine control and took the propeller out of gear. Then he wheeled around, stopped with a jerk, reached down to the floor to grab my book, and hurled it over the side of the boat into the ocean.

Without a word to me, he ducked into his stateroom and snatched up his clothes. Feet shot through pant legs and arms through sleeves. He slipped on his boots and dashed out the door, this time running to the stern.

Chris and Wally appeared from the focsle, roused from sleeping in their bunks.

With the boat out of gear, I guessed that I was relieved of duty and skulked up forward to see what was happening in the focsle.

I stuck my head down the companionway and looked below at the same time as a rush of water spilled over the galleys floorboards. Water was pouring from the bilge into the focsle at a volume so great that even I knew our pumps couldnt handle it. Instinctively, I muttered Oh, shit! the traditional oath of the wayward voyager. Chris suddenly was beside me, peering down. My mind raced.

Cant we just find the hole and plug it? I asked him.

Nope. The hulls double-planked. The holes in the outer planking and we cant find it down there, cause the inner plankings in the way. Theres no way to get at it.

Behind me, Jack appeared, returning from the engine room below. The