"Yeah, some of the natives are kinda messed up. I've seen them rape their buddies. I'm not kidding. They'll get that drunk. One time we were walking back from the bar in Homer, and we saw something moving under the dock. I thought it was a sea lion or something, and we got closer, turns out it was an Eskimo. He was kicking his buddy to see if he was awake, and he wasn't, so then he just stuck his dick in his ass. He was raping his buddy, right there under the dock!!"
PART 3: THE TIME BANDIT.
After breakfast, we got all packed up and went to the airport for our charter flight. Despite the gallons of poison I poured into my stomach the night before, I was feeling great. The rest of the crew, not so much. For example, Eddie was still so hung over, he puked in the parking lot: Yes, that one picture is Eddie picking up the eggs that came out with his puke. Sophisticated, these crabbers.
One of the really cool things about flying a charter was that we didn't have to go through security or any shit like that. As we sat in the plane and waited for everything to get loaded and the pilots to start it up, I noticed that the crew was visibly anxious and worried.
Tucker "What are you guys afraid of? It's just a charter plane."
Fourtner "Man, these things make me nervous. I don't want to die in a plane."
Tucker "Fuck that. Plane death is way better than dying by falling into the Bering Sea. If we smash into a mountain, that's it, it's over in a second. If you fall into the Bering Sea, you have two minutes to consider how stupid you are as you freeze to death."
They weren't convinced.
As we approached the island, we banked multiple times, then headed down through the clouds for what seemed like forever. Finally we broke through, 30 yards above the ocean, and about 100 yards from a huge mountain to our left. It seemed close enough to touch.
As we flew around the island to make our final approach, Bunny's eyes were wide as saucers. I looked back at her, and she said in the most pitiful voice I've ever heard, "Where are we going to land? There's nothing here!"
Fourtner had mentioned in an email earlier that the place we were flying, King Cove, was a pretty desolate place. But that doesn't really do it justice. Here are some pictures: We eventually did find the airport, and landed. On the GRAVEL runway. We came to a stop near the only thing at the airport, a parked truck all by itself. It was the one Fourtner asked the locals to bring out for us. Complete with keys in the ignition.
Tucker "They just left it there with the keys in the ignition?"
Fourtner "Yeah man. There's nothing to worry about, you can't steal it.
There's five miles of road on this entire island."
King Cove is where the Time Bandit is docked between fishing seasons. It's extremely small. It was half dock, half town. As far as I could tell, pretty much all of the buildings in Cold Bay (the name of the town) were made of corrugated metal sheeting, including the grocery store. The store had a surprisingly wide variety of food considering it was on the ass end of the world. You had to pay dearly for it, however. For example, bags of Doritos were "on sale" for $3.50, marked down from $7 each. Apparently the threat of bears is very real in King Cove. In fact, a bear actually ATE someone in Cold Bay in the '90s. Like, ATE him, in broad daylight. It's on Wikipedia, so it must be true.
Then we got our first glimpse of the Time Bandit. I'm not sure what I expected, but the boat itself is both smaller than I thought it would be, and much more imposing. It's smaller because it's only like 115 feet long, which isn't that big for a commercial fishing vessel. But it's more imposing because you see all the equipment up close, and you realize even more than before that it is no fucking joke. You touch the massively heavy crab pots, your foot slips on the deck-everything becomes real. This wasn't a TV show anymore. This was real iron and steel, and it was slimy and wet and icy. In 30-foot seas and 50-mph winds, every single thing on the deck of this boat could kill me.
The inside was seriously cramped. If you've seen the show, you know what the boat looks like, but man, it is really tiny on the inside, almost like a submarine. I mean, I was not prepared for the fact that basically, there isn't enough room in the galley for everyone on the boat to be in there at once.
We all got onto the boat, stowed our stuff away, and then watched the crew get everything settled and situated for the 24-hour ride to Dutch Harbor. The guys were running up and down the mast, climbing over the pots, tying things down, checking the crane, all kinds of shit. I watched them and explored the boat and took everything in-the cabins, the galley, the engine room, the steam room, the storage tanks, etc.-I watched everyone get squared away, and I re-asked myself the same question that everyone asks when they watch the show: "Could I do this job?"
Here I was, on the fucking boat, with the guys who actually do it, watching them go through everything-and I have to say, at that moment in time, I was starting to think that maybe the show overstated and overdramatized crab fishing. Maybe it wasn't so hard. I mean, I still respect the hell out of these guys-but given some time to get used to things, I was pretty confident I could do it.
By the time we pulled off, Neal Hillstrand-the third Hillstrand brother on the boat who gets way less camera time than Johnathan or Andy because he curses so much, but is fucking hilarious as you'll come to see-had cooked up a fantastic dinner. I was shocked that such a huge spread could come out of such a small kitchen, but man, it was not only abundant, but delicious too. I ate a bunch of food. Drew wasn't eating as much.
Tucker "What's wrong dude, you don't like it?"
Drew "No. Just worried about getting seasick."
Tucker "You won't get seasick."
Bunny "Me too. I'm not going to eat."
Tucker "Oh my God, what pussies. Bunny, you better not be a pukey mess and embarrass me!"
We left King Cove at 5pm, and expected to get into Dutch Harbor at about 5pm the next day. It got dark fast and we sat around and watched movies and hung out for a while. Maybe an hour into the trip, we hit some choppy seas. Nothing horrible; like five-foot seas. But it was very noticeable to me, and the room was moving a lot.
On the show, the fishermen are always loud and obnoxious and hard-living. And that characterization is true. But they are also understated in how they deal with people they don't know. They don't tell you what to do, because they aren't that type of men. That's why they're fishermen-because they don't like taking orders from people. But they will tell you what you should be doing, even though it's in subtle, understated terms. As the seas rose, Bunny didn't feel well. And I wasn't feeling the best either.
Neal "Maybe you guys should lie down."
Scottie "Lying down helps you get over seasickness."
Tucker "Nah, I'll be fine. How bad can it be?"
Nils and Bunny took their advice and lay down. I didn't, because clearly I know more about the sea than people who have fished their whole lives.
As time went on, I got worse and worse. But I tried to ignore it. Some people learn by watching others. Some learn by making mistakes. I learn by getting my ass handed to me. Feeling really sick, I decided I needed fresh air, so I went out on deck.
At 7pm, the dark, empty deck of a crab boat is a strange place. It's pitch black and there's no land, no life, nothing whatsoever. It's complete, barren, unforgiving void. It's just plain disturbing. The water frothing beneath the sides of the boat is literally black. Dying that way-by falling in and freezing-must be horrific.
I didn't have much time to ponder this, because almost as soon as I got out there, I realized I had to puke. I went to the rail, and booted all over the side. As I recovered from my vomiting, I was still leaning on the rail. The boat hit a wave, nothing big, but big enough that I lurched a little, and found myself having to hang on to not fall over. Then I realized something: I am leaning over the side of a crab boat that is moving pretty quickly through the Bering Sea. It's completely pitch black out. The water is 34 degrees. I am alone out on this deck.
Umm ... does anyone even KNOW I'm out here?
Even though I was no longer in any immediate danger, I threw myself back from the rail like it was a pissed-off rattlesnake, then scrambled inside the cabin, and upstairs to the wheelhouse. Andy was at the helm, and Drew was talking to him. Apparently, I did not look good.
Drew "Jesus."
Andy "You OK man?"
Tucker "No. I just puked."
Drew "I didn't hear anything."
Tucker "I was out on deck. I was there for about 15 seconds before I realized that maybe I shouldn't be out there by myself. If I fell overboard, you'd never know, would you?"
Andy "You wouldn't believe how long it takes greenhorns to figure that one out. If you fell off the deck without us knowing, you might as well just swim to the bottom so you can die faster because there's no way in hell we'd know you were gone in the first place."
I had little time to think about how close I came to potentially dying, because I had to puke again.
Tucker "Andy do you have a garbage can over there or something?"
Andy "Just open the window and hurl right out."
I sat in the other captain's chair, opened the window, and let loose a stream of vomit like I hadn't done in years. This was an old-school, body-getting-revenge-for-too-much-drinking type of vomit. I am not sure how long I held my head out the window, or how much I puked, but it felt like forever. I looked at the clock, wondering how much longer we had left on the trip. Judging by how much pain I'd been in, it had to be like 2am or something.
It was 8pm. Only three hours into the 24-hour trip. FUCK.
At some point, Neal replaced Andy on wheel watch. Drew was up and as chipper as could be, talking and hanging out. Drew is a great guy, but goddamnit if I didn't want to punch him right in his smiling fucking face. There is nothing worse than being vomitously ill and having to be around someone who is happy.
Drew "How's it going?"
Tucker "Wonderful. Have you been sick yet?"
Drew "Not yet. I feel fine. I'm surprised as hell too, I figured I'd be death on wheels the entire way."
I promptly popped the window open, stuck my head out and puked again.
Neal "Tucker's barkin' at the seals."
Drew "Pretty sure he's scared em all off."
Tucker "Oh shit. I puked right on the Time Bandit logo."
I hadn't noticed it before, but I had hit the skull and crossbones logo dead in the face. It looked like the logo had booted.
I eventually stopped puking. Mainly because I had nothing left in my body. I went downstairs and lay down as the waves violently crashed over the galley portholes. Bunny was worried we'd sink. I'd have accepted death if it made the puking stop. I had to hold on to the bunk sides to stay put, but eventually I fell asleep.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but I do know what woke me up: a crash of glass, a LOUD horn blowing in my ear, and someone screaming about getting on the survival suits. I jumped up to find a broken coffee pot on the floor and Johnathan laughing his ass off at me.
Johnathan "Did you break that, you fucker??"
He was obviously kidding-the coffee pot broke because we hit a rogue wave that knocked it off the counter-but I was so dehydrated, sick, and confused that I honestly thought for a second I was in trouble. Then we hit another wave, and I had to puke again. Fast.
I ran into the bathroom and puked right in the toilet. It was one of those awful vomits that are nothing but bile. I heard some scrambling outside, and in between vomits, looked up to find Scottie Hillstrand (Johnathan's son), filming me vomiting in the toilet. Thanks guys, that's awesome.
I couldn't sleep anymore. It was around 7am, and still pitch dark outside, so I went up to the wheelhouse. Andy was back at the helm, and Drew and Fourtner were up there too.
Drew "Tucker, I've heard of people looking green with sickness before, but this is was the first time I've ever actually seen it in person."
Tucker "Fuck off. Have you puked?"
Drew "Nope. I feel great. How many times for you now?"
Tucker "Five. I think. I want to die."
Andy "You're lucky we left yesterday. There's a storm behind us, if we'd have left today, we'd have 15- to 20-foot seas the entire way."
The waves hit the boat in groups of seven. The first one wasn't too bad, the second one was worse, the third progressively worse, and so on. By the time the seventh wave hit the boat, the Time Bandit was literally 90 degrees different from lowest to highest pitch. At the low side, the window next to me was almost even with the sea. At highest pitch, the window was like 60 feet above the sea.
Tucker "So let me get this straight. You guys are out on the deck crab fishing in waves like this?"
Andy "This is nothing. It gets a lot worse than this."
Fourtner "Oh man. I'd pay good money if our whole season was like this.
Man that would be great, wouldn't it Andy?"
He sounded almost wistful. About waves that seemed like fucking tsunamis to me.
Tucker "What are these, like 40-foot waves?"
Andy "No no no. They're probably 1015 footers. Maybe a 20 every once in a while."
Tucker "Oh fuck off!! Are you kidding? This isn't bad? What's bad? How much worse before you stop fishing?"
Andy "Oh probably 40-foot seas things start to get pretty dicey. At 50-foot seas, I pull'em in."
Tucker "50-FOOT SEAS!!! Three times higher than these? How high is that? That's like over the flag pole!"
Andy "Yep. That's what people don't understand who watch the show-it's not the fishing that's hard. It's doing it on a pitching deck in 40-foot seas that's hard. The cameras are bolted to the deck, so they pitch and roll with the boat. You see the guys slip and slide, but you don't see the boat move. They have to do it that way, or the viewers get seasick watching the deck go all over the screen, but people don't understand the degree of difficulty that the pitching deck provides."
Tucker "No fucking shit. This is ridiculous. Andy, you know that job you never offered me, as a crewman? I'm turning it down."
Andy "Ha. Really sorry to hear that man."
Tucker "No fucking way could I do this. You know, watching this on TV you think, 'Oh sure I could do that if I had to.' Absolutely fucking not. I could not do this."
Fourtner "Hey Tucker. Would you rather be seasick for 24 hours or bang a fat chick?"
Tucker "I'd rather fuck a whale. Literally. An actual honest-to-God whale."
Andy "We've got those out here too."
The flag on the front of the boat, which had been new when we left King Cove, had started to shred. I'd heard Fourtner make reference to winds that would cause the flag to shred but I thought it was some kind of figure of speech or something. The flag was actually shredding itself in the wind.
Drew "How fast are the winds going out there?"
Andy "Hey Fourtner, lean out there and find out how fast the wind is blowing."
Fourtner stepped outside with a wind gauge (with just shorts and t-shirt on). He stepped back in, a puzzled look on his face as he examined the meter.
Andy "How fast is it blowing out there?"
Fourtner "I don't know."
Andy "Didn't you just take a reading?"
Fourtner "Yeah. It broke."
The plastic fan on the top of the meter that measured wind speed was broken. Two of the fan blades had blown off. The meter said "67.3mph," which was the last measurement before the wind, which was apparently moving much faster than that, had shredded it.
Something you may not understand about this conversation-Andy and Fourtner weren't being dramatic or fucking with us or bragging or anything like that. The way they talked about these conditions-which seemed like something out of The Perfect Storm to me-was totally matter-of-fact. This was nothing to them, because they really do work in conditions WAY worse than this. I'd seen it on TV, so I knew that, but I'd never felt it-and feeling it changes everything. You can watch all the porn on the internet, but until you stick your dick in a pussy, you can't really understand why everyone on earth is obsessed with sex.
At that very moment, I felt ill again. I popped open the window and puked my brains out. Right into the wind. Ever heard the phrase pissing into the wind? Well, I mouth-pissed into the wind.
Tucker "BLEEEEAAAAARGHHH AAAAAAAAAAHHHH FUCK ME ITS ALL OVER THE PLACE."