A Day in the Life...

As everyone knows, I'm off having adventures tagging fish in Neets Bay.  What you might not know, is exactly what that means.  Allow me to explain:

We wake up early in the morning a walk down to the docks.

See,  docks.

This is where our super awesome boss lady picks us up in a skiff.

This is my early morning excited face.  It should not be confused for my FML face.

We take a short skiff ride to the saltwater tagging shed.

This is the tagging station where I clip adipose fins off salmon all day.

This is a king salmon smolt.

These are a bunch of drugged king salmon smolt.  Drugs make them less likely to attempt to swim through air.

We have a bucket brigade that brings salmon in from the raceways....

And they get dumped into a holding tank.

It's a lot easier to get them back to their raceways.  We just dump them into the hopper and water pressure takes them back to their raceway.

This is the tagging machine.  It puts a millimeter long coded wire tag into the nose of the salmon.

We also go outside to seine up fish that need to be tagged.

This occasionally requires a d dingy

This is our lunch break.

Some of us are more relaxed then others.

We also may or may not have a crab pot set out.

Ok, we totally do.

After clean up and a short boat ride back to the dock, we make the short trek home.

TL;DR: We listen to a lot of music and take a lot of ibuprofen.

Stopping by the woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know. 
His house is in the village though;

 He will not see me stopping here 
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

 My little horse must think it queer
 To stop without a farmhouse near

 Between the woods and frozen lake 
The darkest evening of the year.

 He gives his harness bells a shake 
To ask if there is some mistake. 

The only other sound's the sweep 
Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
 But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost

Questionable Yoga Poses in Inappropriate Locations (Neets Bay Edition Part 1)

So I'm sure everyone has seen those pictures of people doing yoga in strange locations.  Here is my two cents on the matter.

Disclaimer: I don't really do yoga.

On freshwater coho raceways

Where the Bears are.

Where people don't belong.

And thus concludes this edition of doing yoga and questionable locations.  Please stay tuned for yoga in boats and on saltwater raceways.  Or anywhere else that strikes my fancy.

Forgotten Things

When traveling, it is inevitable that you will forget something.  When you pack like me:

 It's inevitable that you will forget many things.  Like tank tops to go under the 6 wool sweaters you brought (it's going to be an itchy week).

I also forgot ibuprofen, aspirin, or anything else that looks like pain killers.  That would of course mean that my overworked right ankle would decide that it hates me. 

 And since I'm out in the middle of BFE, it's not like I can just run out to the store and grab some.  Thankfully one of my coworkers had an ace bandage, so at least I'm limping around with a little bit of support.

It can also be said that no one forgets my birthday.  I was here at Neets for about an hour when someone called and informed the whole camp that it was my birthday.  Thank you random person.  I feel so special, but you are either 7 months early or 6 months late.

Not that I'm complaining.  It could always be worse.

Neets Bay Day #1

This weeks adventure started as any new Alaskan adventure would: with fog delays.  But only for a few hours.  We did eventually board our flight and managed to cram all of us into a little sardine can with wings and floats.  After a harrowing (ok, it wasn't harrowing, the flight was smooth and the view was incredible, I just really, really, really don't like little planes) half in hour on this delightful peace of float plane material, we arrived in Neets Bay.


When I said that I would help tag fish at remote hatcheries,  I was expecting this:

Not this:

The view is also kind of to die for:

Although I guess some of it is still what I expected:

Exactly what I expected:

All your bases dos belong to me!

Once we were lovers,
Then we were friends,
Now we ain't either,
And that's where it ends.
Cordial.
That all depends,
because you've got better things to do,
And people who will treat you right.
Baby, tried as hard I could
But I ain't going old with you,
Seems like all we do is fight,
This will be our last goodnight. 
-Matt Hopper

I have had the honor of having about 3 people in my life who are completely asexual.  I think they are winning. Really though, they get to enjoy all of their days without worrying about what some guy is thinking or not thinking about them.  They don't have to worry about getting bitch slapped in the ovaries just when you've accepted that maybe you really can give up on men.  They don't constantly quest after then unattainable. Or maybe this is just a me problem. Sex makes me miserable and insane.  Both when I'm getting some and when I'm not. When not enjoying the attention of the rougher sex (heheh) I go back and forth with myself about why no one likes me and blahblahblah.  You know, just kind of turn into a big ball of unattractive insecurity.  I would also like to smack anyone who ever says "You just need to get laid."  It is the exact same thing when I do get some.  It's the whole "he's not really into me, why doesn't anyone like me blahblahblah. Then again I may just be a miserable and insane person, but I don't believe that.  Well the miserable part anyways.  I'm insane for sure, but at least it isn't the kind that requires pills.

It's not me it's you

Dear Place of Employment:
We reach this point in our abusive relationship every year. We have just had enough of each other.  We usually end on rough terms, with both of us completely mentally and physically exhausted and us swearing up and down that we no longer want anything to do with each other.  Alas, like all abusive relationships, after some time to cool down, we inevitably crawl back to one another.  I to you, for your super sexy paychecks and you big bursting benefits.  And you to me, for my snarky fish jokes and advanced knowledge of rockfish life histories.
When we first get back together it is like a match made in Heaven. I sample more fish then Doctor Who has saved lives.  And you pretend to be appreciative. But as time wears on I remember what an abusive asshole you are.  You are completely unsupportive, like an old bra that the underwire has fallen out of. Remember that one time this summer when,  I called you crying and you told me to man up? And you always accuse me of being a liar. Like that one time when you told me a story about that one tech who made up there data, but totally came clean after they were approached about it?  It's no good for either of us.  Usually when we reach this point we can pull off a clean break, but not this time.
This year, you keep dragging out the inevitable.  It's not that I don't appreciate the paycheck, but seriously it's time to let go.  I want to see other jobs for a few months.  In fact I already have an amazing two month long fling planned, but still you won't let go.  You keep finding menial tasks for me to do that lessen both of us.  I want to go and move on for a bit (you know I'll be back, I love the abuse.  I'm worse then Rihanna).  Please stop dragging it out.
I love you job, but let go.
Til Next Year,
An exhausted Fish Tech

So...I'm 26 now...

Nothing like spending all day at Bar Harbor to make a girl's birthday special!  On the upside of this there is nothing like crack heads and homeless people to assure you that you are not actually failing at life.  Sure you might have a D average, but your not actually failing! 

I'm an old lady who may not be failing at life, but is certainly failing at brushing my hair.

But that's ok, because hard cider and friends throwing you a birthday party makes everything better!  I love you all!

Gin means Fun (No, not sin you uncreative douchcanoe)

Many good things in life start with Gin and the phrase "Let's go on a boat ride!"

And for once they were actually good!   Good times, good friends.  Much with the gin, the cabin of the compound and unceremoniously flipping people into boats because they will not and could not make it by themselves.

Gin and Fun!

We've lost something!!

Then again, if you compare these two examples of a "good time with boats and gin"  versus the dock to dock parties "good time with boats and gin" you may come to a different conclusion.

This was a really good idea...that wasn't mine and I wasn't involved in...YAY!!!

Quotes From Last Night (Round 3)

Whiskey belongs in your boobs-SW

Hey Joe!  Are you scared?
No, we have venison.-CB and JP

Where the fuck is tinkerbell?
I think your dog ate a pixie.
Why?
Her shit is sparkly. -CB,KB and SW

I'm gonna put boobs on the TV and you won't know what color they are.

Don't get me started on beach balls man.

I'm not rascist, I own a color TV-CB

I'm a seaman with the caterpillar thriller at the penis table-AM and RG

I never don't think about titties-KW
...so how about the holocaust -ML

Moses was a fishermen.  He spent 100 years wandering the desert with a trout rod. -CB

It's fuck you in binary-AM

One Day in July (Fuck you ALL!!)

This town cannot handle it's sunshine.  I have seen some weird ass shit today.  And talked to some rude ass people.  These following three events all occurred on the same day in the same place: Hillbilly (Mountain) Point.
WTF!? Exhibit 1:  Why yes, that is a large native man subsistence trolling on a jet ski.  Thanks for asking.  (If your curious he caught a halibut and 2 silvers).

WTF!? Exhibit 2:  So, what do we have here?  I believe its a 1/4 ton pickup trying to haul a 32ft boat on a trailer with a broken winch attached to a tow hitch that is two small for the truck hitch it's attached too.  And before you ask the only reason this boat hasn't done a belly slide back into the ocean yet is because it is resting precariously on its brand new kicker.  Was alcohol involved?  Of course it was!  Was this the busiest I've seen it this year at Mountain Point? Of course it was!

WTF!?  Exhibit 3:  Ok, this one doesn't have a picture, but it goes as follows:
You stupid, arrogant, overfishing, douchebag!  I dare you to call me "Darling" again in that condescending fucking tone.  Oh you think your all cool with your big shiny new boat.  Your not.  I put up with a lot of shit for this job.  I didn't even fucking bat an eye when you made a comment about my ass while I was measuring your halibut.  I was only mildly irritated when you wouldn't tell me what area you were fishing in...after I had already measured your fucking fish.  Nope, what pushed me over the edge is when you said, "How 'bout you just point to the map and circle an area, cause I'm not going to tell you where I was fishing, darlin'.  Have a nice day, darlin'.
I dare you to say darlin' again.  I know damn well that you had about 12 other fish in your fish hold, I watched you pull them all out to clean them, I'm neither blind, nor stupid.  I also happen to know you were fishing in Annette waters.  How do I know this?  Dude trolling on a jet ski told me.
Let me explain to you what will happen the next time you try this little trick.  First, I don't know if you know this but I'm both incredibly clumsy and play roller derby.  These two skills will tragically combine themselves and you will find yourself swimming in the waters of the Bog of Eternal Stench...I mean Mountain Point.  And if that isn't bad enough, I also have the troopers on speed dial.


So yep, that was one day in July...just one...fuck this month...fuck the sunshine...and just fuck.

One Lesson (or how I pretend to write poetry)

I watched three hours of slam poetry
on Tuesday in hopes of finding inspiration.
I watch mesmerized as my stories dripped
off strangers lips and these angels of elequence
tear open my soul for only my dog to see.
What can I say in the face of that?
I know nothing of passion or honesty.
In truth,
Life has only taught me one lesson.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
He came in with a bow and a dinner jacket on
and said he was a present.
He asked if he could give me one thing
what would it be?
"A love poem."
He wrote about a barren land with a bone white tree
that dripped green poison off dead leaves.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
A tall skinny boy who kept all his conquests
mounted on his wall
told me to tell him a secret.
"I want to grow fins so I can swim away."
He didn't swim.  He walked.
I only meant I wanted to experience him like water through my gills.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
One night we watched the sky dance on the water.
Falling stars shot beneath the waves and whales breached
in the Northern Lights.
He never said anything.
But I decided that being in heaven
meant going to hell.

Life has only taught me one lesson:
We are outside playing cops and robbers.
Screams of "no no no no" echo through hollow walls and open windows.
An hour later,
As they check for black eyes and skinned knees
amongst the lilacs she whispers up to him,
"Why won't you hold me hand?"

And life has only taught me one lesson.

Didn't finish a story? Feel guilty!

Sometimes a story just makes you feel like an asshole.


A Story That Wouldn't Let Me Fall Asleep

Nel sat staring out her window at a starless night sky. That is all she ever did, all that she could do. After many years that is all her story ever was; a single sentence.
She was so very excited when it first got written, finally her very own words to explore and to play on. Nel's excitement soon turned to confusion when no more words ever came and finally she became completely dispondant when she accepted that her author had completely forgot about her.
Nel was a quiet story, not the kind that demanded your attention or made waves. But tonight Nel couldn't stand the confines of her sentence any longer, tonight was the night that she crawled out from between the covers of her empty book and demanded to know why her author forgot about her.
And this is exactly what she did. As Nel flipped open her cover and crawled out of her book, she looked upon a scene she hadn't expected. There were characters standing all around a grey-haired old woman. They all had smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. One-by-one the characters kissed the old woman's cheek and said, "thank you for your words." Finally it was Nel's turn. The dying author look at her a bit confused before recognition flashed across her face.
"Oh Nel," said the old woman," I'm so sorry, I forgot about you. But you were so quiet and never said a word. Next time someone finds you be more demanding."
Understanding her mistake, Nel bent her head, kissed the old woman's cheek and said, "Thank you for your words."
Nel then returned to her book, laid on her bed that lay roughly across the word 'out' and began to cry. She cried until her tears washed away all the words. Then she slept, she slept for a very long time.

Nel woke up one day with light shining down on her. Above her was the face of a young man. Nel, being very excited about the prospect of having a new author jumped up and ran to the margins of her blank page.
"Hi! My name is Nel! You must be my new author. Can I tell you a story?"
"Sure?' said the boy a bit nervously. After all, its not everyday a fully formed character comes jumping out of blank pages at you.

How to Lose Friends' and Alienate People

As many of you know my sex life is going through a dry spell about the size of the Saraha.  Now for various reasons I feel that this is karma, I brought this upon myself.  However, this most recent adventure is cruel and unusual even by the universes standard of fuck you.  First and foremost, it's been well over a year.  And with that, its storytime:
So I went to a party (of course I went to a party, at which point does a bad life choice start out with not-a-party).  The night was awesome fun!  Met new people, hung out with some newer acquaintances, I like to think I made some new friends.  Now at some point or another everyone decided it would be a really good idea to go to the bar, "the bar's need us," was the excuse.  Take note children, the bar never needs you.
Bar number 1 went great.  There is nothing wrong with a bunch of adults playing a game of telephone on a Friday night.  I suppose I should say that at this point in the evening me and my poor life choice have perhaps said "Hi" to each other.
Bar 2 is where things get fuzzy, or completely blank if I'm being honest (Pro tip: Don't combine whiskey, mascato, and rum and cokes).  The last thing I remember is BSing with a friend (an actual friend, I know I'm surprised too). To my questionable recollection I and poor life choice have had yet to have a conversation. And then...
Hello 8am, where the fuck am I?  Did I...Oh...I did.  How the fuck?  I really want to know what crazy pants events led to crazy no pants events.  And I don't even have the foggiest idea.
But seriously universe, its been over a year and when I finally get some, its in such a manner I don't even kind of remember!?  That's just cruel.