We’ve all been to restaurants where, after something on the menu draws our interest, we ask the server, “Is it fresh?”
Most of the time we never give a thought to the hard work that goes into growing or catching the food we eat. We especially never think about the dangers that can lurk in the search for wild foods we consume.
That is, until we hear the news that another fisherman was lost at sea.
This past summer a young lobsterman — someone’s son, grandson, friend, classmate — was taken by a freak accident on the water while working his traps. I did not know this young man. My only consolation is that he died doing something he loved, something that won’t befall most of us.
From the waters that some of us grew up with on the Jersey shore to waves that inspire awe along the California coast and the cold, deep Maine waters that hold the bounty of lobster and other delicacies — these waters of our youth always surface in our memories whenever we are in sight of the ocean.
From a very early age, water gets into our skin and usually never lets go. Its salt runs through the veins of every fisherman seeking to tame that pull and provide a life for himself. No matter the age or the years spent doing it, the lure is there and the drive to harness it grows with each haul of the trap.
This especially is the quest of the young fisherman, to live a life on the water and provide for a family. Perhaps it’s to pursue a livelihood that has been passed down through generations, or simply to do something they were taught, something they love, and something that they believe will sustain them and their loved ones. But the risks of such an occupation are high and often intensified further by the weather and unpredictability of the sea.
With its ever-changing ways, the sea carries a certain beauty that it alone holds. It cannot be replicated anywhere because water is magical as it changes continuously. The allure can sometimes be mystical as it speaks to us like a siren’s call, soothing us with gentle, rhythmic sounds.
But ask any fisherman who spends his days on the water if he has ever had a close call, and you may see a turn of the head and a slight smile that quickly ebbs into a long exhale with the answer, “oh yeah.” If I were to talk to 10 fishermen, I would get 10 stories of near-fatal encounters and each one would be unique.
Dangers lurk everywhere when on the sea. Be it a rogue wave, a gust of wind or a shroud of thick, heavy fog; there are no weathermen on the sea and Mother Nature has the final say. The weather sets the tone and can easily turn minutes into long arduous hours on the water that can test anyone’s skill, no matter age or experience. The dangers also can be man-made, be it another boat or a simple mistake of navigation.
Whether we are close up or looking from afar, when the sea speaks, everyone on it, in it, and all around listens. It is lovely but also relentless and unforgiving, quick to remind us how fragile life can sometimes be.
If there is one thing to be certain of, it is that when a life is lived on the water, it can never wash away completely. That life simmers and lingers among the waves, the foam and spray — out there where the gulls frolic and whine, where boats lift bounty from the waters, where the fog creeps with questions and the horn answers, or where the horizon meets the eye and blue touches blue beneath a blanket of clouds white and full.
Out there the fisherman does not die; he lives on forever, his spirit as constant as every turn of the tide.
RJ Heller is a journalist, essayist, photographer, author, an avid reader and an award-winning book critic who enjoys sailing, hiking and other outdoor pursuits. He lives in Starboard Cove.