84 Days

  I recently returned from an extended period of time away from home. I was down in Hoonah working on the boat and fishing. I left Wasilla on June 11, and didn't return until September 3. To say that it was a long time to be gone would be an understatement.

Before I left Hoonah last year, I contacted a fellow who shrink wraps boats with a heavy plastic wrap. I spoken to several people who had the process done and they seemed to be happy with it. I left in September last year, and sometime in October he got the job done. Unfortunately, he didn't bother to mention that it would be advantageous to have a fan on and a window open to allow the moisture to dissipate. Never having gone through the procedure before, I didn't know what to expect. 

When I returned to Hoonah, I saw that the covering was intact and given the fact that last winter was especially wet and snowy, I was delighted that I had decided to get the boat shrink-wrapped, that is until I opened the door. From floor to ceiling, and on every surface, there was mold growing. I'd never seen anything like it. Of course I couldn't sleep on the boat with all the mold present, so I took advantage of my daughter Jen's generosity and stayed for the better part of a week at her house. I lit the stove and opened the windows and bought a gallon of bleach for the outrageous price of $9.89 and proceeded to wipe down all the surfaces, starting at the ceiling. All of the jackets that I had left hanging were covered in mold as well as the rain gear. I even had mold on the steering wheel. I wasn't sure that the bleach water would kill it all, but I kept an eye on things and it seemed to get the job done. The books I had left on the table were moldy, even on the pages inside. It was pretty distressing. The good part, I guess, is that the boat has never been so clean, that is, after I got done wiping down every surface. 

I had planned on hauling the boat out and doing the annual maintenance, painting the bottom, zincing and scraping, but the weather to begin with was foul, and I was in a bit of a foul mood, so I decided to go fishing instead. Usually July is kind of a slow month for me. King salmon opened up in July 1 and I fished around the bay hitting all the hot spots and using gear that I knew would normally catch kings. I didn't catch a one. I think I had a few rock fish and a Humpy. By July 2 I had switched over all the gear to target Dog salmon, which turned out to be a good plan. The month afforded me an uncommon amount of money for which I was eternally grateful. August on the other hand, which is historically more profitable turned out to be lousy, as the Cohos were slow in coming in and those that did were pretty small.

When I returned I contacted some friends at the writing website that I subscribe to, Fan Story, and was welcomed back with a poem by one of the gals who has followed me for awhile. Her name is Susan Newell. I was greatly honored by her kindness, and I wanted to share this poem with you. I can't include the picture, because I am unable to cut and paste from Fan Story, so I'll include a picture of the Bonnie J with her poem.

Welcome Home Tom!

by Susan Newell

Our fisherman has returned from the sea,

(but not to the farm where he used to be)

to newer home with loving wife so dear

and nary a renegade swell to fear.

His sea legs wobbled like limbs of rubber

as he learned again to become a landlubber.

Homeward he flew at tremendous expense

to write of his antics and hold our suspense.

Prayers we raised while he was gone fishing.

For docile seas and huge catch we were wishing.

We welcome him home, praise God above. 

His delightful stories we've come to love.

His humor abounds, whether in poems or prose,

as he reveals juicy tidbits of all that he knows.

We've learned of the amateur farm and its rules

and wait with breath bated for his ocean born jewels.

So welcome home Tom, from your life on your boat.

We're eager to hear of your adventures afloat.

Now get to that keyboard, Mr. T. B. Botts

Your fans have all missed you, lots and lots.

It's certainly humbling on the one hand to be held in such high esteem, but it also has a tendency to go right to my head for some reason. In any event, it's awfully nice to be missed.

While I was down in Hoonah, I experienced first hand what I had only heard about from a friend about the high cost of fuel and food. The prices have exploded beyond what I believe is reasonable. I went to Colette's Cupboard to buy two half gallons of milk one day and was shocked when the clerk wanted over $15.00.  Hoonah Trading was just as bad. Several times I went into the store, looked around at the meager supplies on the shelves, saw the prices and walked out without buying anything. I was desperate for some fresh fruit one day, so I bit the bullet and bought two bananas. They cost me $3.00. Needless to say, I didn't purchase any more. A box of cereal was between $11.00 and $13.00 depending on what you wanted. I didn't buy any there. I was fortunate enough to have a daughter living in Juneau who shopped for me, and though the freight was outrageous as well, I still saved money buying out of town.

I honestly don't know how the people who live there are going to be able to feed themselves and stay warm this winter. Fuel is over $6.00 a gallon, so whether you buy furnace oil or gas to go cut firewood, it's going to cost you.

Getting into Juneau to shop is equally as expensive. I paid $169.00 for a one way ticket to fly the forty miles from Hoonah to Juneau. I'm not sure what the ferry costs. The last time I took my truck over in 2020, I think I paid $360.00 for a round trip ticket. I could justify it because I could load the truck up with groceries and thus get through the winter only buying perishables.

The bottom line is that I'm delighted to be back home. The boat was uncomfortable, the fishing for half the time I was there was poor and the prices they paid for the salmon didn't offset the price of fuel. I've made up my mind that I'm going to try to sell the boat. If I don't, I'll reluctantly go back next year and paint it up and try to sell it again. Of course if I'm there I'll probably fish. If I do sell the boat, I guess I'll have to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. For 44 years I've been commercial fishing. It will be hard to walk away from, but I may have no choice.