THE TOILET GODS MUST BE ANGRY
Ah summertime; the time of year that usually presents lazy days, soaking up sun, sand, and other pleasantness, away from the work-a-day world of finance and high-stress madness that usually rules our lives. OK, not so much finance but high-stress madness was our daily visitor. We used to have a boat; a lovely, converted gillnetter. We enjoyed wonderful stress-free summers onboard, but, that first maiden summer voyage managed to deliver some very important lessons. That first long trip we took our friends, Lyle and Mary with us to Desolation Sound, a long-held desire for Bill, along with our...
Read MoreAPRIL FOOL
Excerpt five (somewhat revised) from the book Wait.. WHAT?, by Elly Mossman Before Bill assumed ownership of the Zapora, the boat was berthed at Comox Harbour, so, because he served as skipper, it seemed expedient for us to live there too. When Bill bought the Zapora from Loman’s widow, the reason to live in Courtenay was moot. We began looking for a home further south on the Island. We found a house in Chemainus, right next door to the parents of Bill’s sister-in-law. We were visiting them one day, and noticed the cute little house for sale next door. An offer was put in immediately, and...
Read MoreNEWFOUNDLANDERS, OCTOPI, AND AN OIL CHANGE IN HIGH GEAR
During the fishing season, at least for a few trips, we had a Newfoundlander on board as another deckhand. I couldn’t understand a word he said, but we had fun with him. I found out he had certain phobias. Spiders. Women. On the first trip out, Bill had him convinced that on our stop in Rose Harbour, we would be taking him to the dance, and setting him up with a nice girl. (In reality there is absolutely nothing in Rose Harbour, let alone a dance) He spent the next twenty four hours locked in his bunk because “all women had AIDS!”. During my turn at wheel watch one night I’d promised...
Read MoreFALLING ON MY HALIBUTCHEEKS
Bill became part owner of the boat he normally skippered for a good friend, Loman Daury. When tragedy struck and Loman died unexpectedly, Bill partnered with another skipper friend, to buy the old Prince Rupert longliner, Zapora from the widow. The Zapora was a haywire boat. Everything was wrong with her, but like the Grande Dame she was, she seemed to plug along with baling wire and a wad of chewing gum. That’s not the way Bill rolled however, and before the boat was taken out again, she was overhauled from stem to stern. There was no end to the problems, but finally the work was done. Or...
Read MoreSO… THAT SKILL IS AN ASSET?
I worked on a fishboat for a few years, which was heavy gruelling work One of the jobs I had – yes, there were multiple – was cooking meals in the galley. I prepped meals, watched the sounder for the inevitable shallow spots, and steered, the floor pitching wildly underneath. I careened from one spot to the other. The spaghetti I made for lunch one day, was topped with Parmesan cheese, the smell of which promptly drove me outside, to lean gasping over the rail. Under normal circumstances I do not get seasick. This ‘moving feast’ no longer qualified as normal. My ignorance made...
Read MoreGREEN IS DEFINITELY MY COLOUR
At the time I met my husband, Bill, he’d been a commercial fisherman on both east and west coasts of Canada for the majority of his working career. As a young man, he’d gone around the world on a research vessel owned by Columbia University, as a chief oiler, which gave him his taste for sea life. After that He’d worked as a longliner, dragger, and lobsterman. By the time we finally met, he was a BC commercial fisherman with his own troller, catching salmon off the north west coast of British Columbia. We decided I would work as his deckhand. Both of us had gone through divorces,...
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