Western Edge

Sunset on Georges Bank, seen 
from F/V Western Edge

My body is weird. 

I was seasick for 24 hours straight, barely managing to keep water and a few bites of bread in my stomach - and in one case failing. I laid on the floor of the wheelhouse on F/V Western Edge during every transit, because that was the only place I felt stable. My body screamed at me to get low, get comfortable, and if possible, fall asleep. I could power through well enough to collect my samples at each station, but other than that, I was useless. 

As soon as we finished our last station, almost to the minute, my body decided it was fine. The captain turned back toward land, and all of a sudden, I could eat, I could walk around, I could do anything. I mean, thanks, Body, for acclimating, but way to go on the timing. 

Facing the other direction from
the above photo

With our return to New Bedford, the field work for my scallop project is complete. We have every sample that we need for our analysis, and thank goodness. I am grateful that there was a period of my life in which I experienced commercial fishing. I am also very grateful that period is now over. The conditions on scallop boats just do not work for me - the constant motion, the time-is-money rush, the complete lack of circadian rhythm, the slim safety margins, and perhaps most critically, the lack of bathroom. That said, I am walking away from the experience with a profound respect for fishermen. They are the grittiest, saltiest people I have ever met. They endure conditions that I simply cannot. In most cases, they lack formal education past their mid-teenage years, but yet, they are incredibly intelligent, intuitive oceanographers and savvy businessmen. I am proud to contribute my scientific skills to sustainability of the scallop fishery, to support the incredible people I met on board those boats. 

Eat scallops, friends. And thank a fisherman.