12 to 40 Charter Fishing Part 3

During what I call my "piscatorial period" ........tongue in cheek, more specifically those years spent charter fishing, I had experiences and adventures some good some bad. Perhaps experiences can never be categorized in such a manner; they're just experiences. I read somewhere that it's OK to risk but only if, when things go wrong, you are the only one to be hurt. Anything else requires a careful weighing of the gain....but I digress again. How easy it is.

The Canadian Coastguard Auxiliary has existed since before Confederation but was actually formalized in 1978. I joined in 1992 as a crewman!

The "Auxiliary" draws from local fishermen and people with local knowledge. Volunteers need to be able to be "on call" at a moments notice. Most volunteer for the evening/night shifts. I volunteered for the day shifts as I was available most of the time unless I was actually chartering. I also had the added advantage of living only minutes from the boat shed.

The boat in the shed! In those days a 24' rigid inflatable with 500 horses tacked on the blunt end and loaded down with state of the art electronics half of which didn't work half the time due to the environment. High on speed across the water but low on protection from the elements.

We had training. We had exercises. I took courses. I actually ended up being the boat's medic after having aced the final examination. (As an aside I was also teaching Advanced Piloting at the local Power Squadron.)

Sure we had our moments, some less memorable than others but one stands out as being remarkable.....a yarn worth telling.

Behind the mountains to be seen from my front lawn and across the Straights of Juan de Fuca lies Puget Sound not too far to the south. Just over the water from Seattle is Bangor WA one of the homes of the Pacific Fleet but more specifically the Pacific home of the USA's underwater nuclear deterrent.

The straights in front of my home are the only access to the open ocean. As a result warships of all types are a common sight as they sortie from Puget Sound. The most menacing of these is the Ohio class nuclear submarine carrying the Trident intercontinental nuclear missile. It is of one of these that I have a tale.

We'd had a steady blow over a number of days. Sufficient to keep the charter boats bobbing in their slips. Sufficient to develop a significant swell rolling down the straights. Sufficient to keep me in my vegetable garden taking advantage of the opportunity. The wind shifted as the depression moved through and the shift stirred up the surface of the waters on top of the swell leaving a confused and stomach churning sea. A mass of whitecaps to seaward of the sea wall. Spume blowing horizontally off the tops of the waves. Gulls disappearing behind the swells. A weak sun doing it's best to light up the seascape.

Being in the auxiliary I had a beeper on my belt. It had different tones signifying different levels of urgency the most electrifying of which being the Mayday signal. These were rare. Mostly, as a rescue boat, we performed search and rescue, towed in errant fishermen who had run out of gas and other equally mundane but very necessary tasks.

I remember I was picking green beans and commenting on how remarkable it was that each bright red flower turned into a green bean! Suddenly my beeper sounded. I couldn't believe my ears. A Mayday!! Run to the truck. Ignore the speed limit down to the boathouse. Struggle into the suit, boots and helmet whilst listening to Victoria Centre describing the incident on the VHF. By now the rest of the crew had arrived. Haul off the otter nets...otters make an incredible mess of the boat if you don't use them......open the outer doors and head out into the harbour.

A gill netter, overloaded after fishing the Swiftsure Bank, started taking on water on its way south. The pumps couldn't keep up with the flow and they had hit an area of significant chop caused by the collision of wind and tidal current thus compounding the problem. The crew, fearing for their lives, issued a Mayday on channel 16 and fired flares to attract assistance.

We struggled out heading for their last reported position. The conditions were atrocious for a small boat. A confused chop of about 10' riding on top of a westerly swell behind which the mast of a large sailboat would easily disappear.

As we approached the vessel it became quite apparent that we could not get alongside to take the men off as, by now, the aft sections of the gill netter were being washed by the chop. We were in constant communication with the vessel over the VHF radio and, of course, constantly monitored by the Rescue Centre in Victoria.

We suggested to the crew, three of them, that they get in the water in their survival suits. It would not have been easy to pick them up but a solution nevertheless. They refused. A second solution was to have them turn into the shore and run the boat aground. It was decided that this was impractical as the boat would have to turn broadside to the weather with a real danger of being rolled over.

By now we have a rescue helicopter overhead called in by the rescue centre. Due to the violent movement of the fishing boat it was impossible to lift the men off the deck. It was again suggested that the men get in the water with a swimmer from the chopper and they would be airlifted to safety. Again they refused. A quandary.

Our cox'n,s view was to just hang around, wait for the boat to go down and then take the men out of the water. It seemed to be the only option.

A new voice on the radio! "USS XXXXX calling rescue vessel off our port bow. Can we be of any assistance? Over." As we came high on the swell we could see approaching the sail (conning tower) of a submarine seemingly undisturbed by the seas that were tossing us and the gill netter around like corks. Her decks were awash as she headed home to Bangor. No one in sight. Black and menacing but at ease in her element. A "boomer." An Ohio class nuclear submarine!

We didn't realize how big she really was until a little later. Her skipper suggested that he bring his boat (they call them boats for some reason) broadside to the weather to our windward thereby putting us and the gill netter in her lea. Theoretically this should ease the conditions and enable us to take the men off.

By now we were willing to try anything. We were beginning to worry about our own safety in the confused sea and one of our own crew was violently ill. We were also concerned as to whether the sub could get close enough to create the effect we needed without running us all down. So much we knew !

Our cox,n agreed with the idea but only after advising the subs skipper that we retained command of the rescue should we have to abort.

The sub maneuvered approximately 100 yds to windward, broadside to the weather, and proceeded to blow her tanks. Remember that up till now she had been decks awash with just her sail and a small portion of her deck above the water.

I just stood there, hanging on for dear life, as this monster slowly rose out of the water. You could hear the blast of air as she forced air into her tanks and the water out. Water poured off her black and shining hull as she exposed as much of herself as physically possible. I had had no real idea how big she was other than some memories of Electric Boat Works in Connecticut......another tale! Now I know better. 560' long and displacing 17000 tons she sat there undisturbed by the weather. Sat like a rock. To give you some idea....a world war 2 light aircraft carrier was only 60' longer and this is a darned submarine!!

As she rose to windward, kept on station by her sophisticated navigation systems, the sea around us became quieter and quieter as if in fear and awe of this monster of the sea. We quickly drew alongside the fishing boat and took the three men off without them getting any wetter than they already were. We then quickly stood off in order to give the sub some room. "Thanks for your help Navy. Over." "Any time. Over" Came the response.

We watched her slowly settle back into the water like some leviathon and turn back on course for Puget Sound and home after her 70 day cruise in the Pacific.

It was all over in just a few minutes! Seemed like it anyway.

We radioed in the position of the gill netter as it was now a hazard to navigation only after the helicopter had agreed to stay on station as long as her fuel allowed. We advised the centre that it would be impossible to get a tow on the boat and that in our opinion she would founder pretty quickly.

As we pounded our way back to harbour we were advised that the boat had in fact gone down! We had the crew as was our mandate......and a tale to tell.