In Our Words Canadians Reading Together

Everything was now ready; tomorrow was the first day of the season. Today they would be taking the traps down to the Government Wharf. The wharf would be a beehive of activity as there were eight boats that tied up there. Everyone knew each other and took their turn depending on where they were tied up and in what would seem like no time at all the wharf would be full of traps. Again this year John’s dad best friend Elmer would be fishing with them. Elmer was widowed not ten years and four years ago he was laid off at the fish plant. There was no question that he would be working the season with them. In small communities loyalty is a given. John did not know what had occurred but he knew that Elmer had helped his dad some time in the past and they had been friends all their lives.

The day was now over and John would be heading off to bed early. They would be up at five in the morning, have breakfast and go into town for gas for the boat before they would be allowed to set out at eight o’clock. The local rep for the Fisheries Department would be at the wharf to ensure that no boats left before they were allowed. Out of habit John checked the sky for any indication of foul weather which may be on the way. The Government weather channel on the radio said that wind was supposed to pick up overnight but as John headed off to bed there was no indication of it. Weather is something a fisherman is constantly dealing with, especially the wind. The main problem for a lobster fisherman is the fact that when a storm is forecast they must spend the day before taking all the traps that set close to shore and undo their lines and move them further out into deeper water. After a severe storm the water has a tendency to ‘swell’ (long rolling waves as the tide comes in) and they must wait for it to subside before the traps can be moved back in. If the traps are not moved they will be smashed on the rocks when the tide is high.

It seemed like John’s head had just hit the pillow when he was jolted awake by his dad. A ‘noreaster’ was blowing! This was the worst wind to deal with. It was strong and cold and from where they were on the bay it would be blowing full steam when it hit them. John knew what this meant. They would have to go down to the wharf and lash down the traps. If they didn’t they ran the risk of losing them over the side. His grandpa only set a few wooden ones now but John could remember the year, before the age of wire ones, when all 250 of his grandfather’s traps went over bring up the incident as he knew the first two days of the season are the best so he knew his grandpa had lost a lot of money that year. He was finally back in bed and as he lay there waiting for sleep to come he thought on this life he was committing himself to. A lot of his friends were moving away and the village was starting to show signs of dying. Some would say he was foolish to stay when the ‘big city’ had so much more to offer. It was when he thought about these things that he felt proud of who he was. He was the son of a fisherman and a part of a traditional way of life hundreds of years old.

They are steaming down the bay just before sunrise. He feels the wind in his hair. He looks up at gulls swirling overhead trying to get at their bait. He can taste the salty tang of the air. Then comes that moment that sends a tingle through him from his head to his feet. That moment when the sun creeps up over the horizon and a million jewels sparkle on the water. Nothing, absolutely nothing could replace this nor would he want it to.