THOUGHTS AND COMMENTS FROM AN AMERICAN Merchant Mariner
Thursday, April 7, 2011
not what I needed right now
I've been jonesin' to go lobstering this week. It's been 3 years now since I stopped killing God's creatures for fun and profit on even a part-time basis, and I'm missing it badly just now.
We're coming into the time of year when, in my youth, I used to give up whatever I was doing to go fish for another season. I'm not actually considering giving up my job (and the life that comes with it) anymore, but the feeling is there, and it's godddamned strong; I could give it all up and go do the one job that truly defined me as a person in a manner that I could welcome. Well, I didn't welcome being broke all the time. And I don't think my wife would welcome the incredibly foul smelling laundry and massive pay cut, along with me being underfoot every night. Of course, to be fair, when I was fishing full time I had neither wife nor family.
Still, look at this picture, and maybe you'll see the tidal pull that's making me half nuts.
That's a friend's boat, and it's a clone to the last boat that I ran captain on when I was fishing.
With time comes a tendency to gloss over all the rainy days, all the little cuts and bruises and defeats, stitches, broken toes; having the Notorious B.O.B. drop a lobster pot on my head from about 10 feet up (which I unfortunately stopped by using my face to break its' fall), for example. I think of these things, and remember what I really gave up when I gave up fishing. Now, however, to give up sailing on this floating gas station I'd be making an even greater sacrifice; cold comfort, to be honest.
I am Paul B, and I spend most of my life at sea. Ships, Science, the life of a mariner, biology and (mostly) true stories of life among the best and the worst people in the world, the United States Merchant Marines. You'll find it here, maybe. You'll definitely find rants, raves and discussion on life aboard a merchant ship. Come back and see the Brazilian girls, too, who show up fairly regularly.