In the vastness of the Bering Sea, where the cold bites deeper than the hounds of hell, they say crab fishing’s the toughest gig on God’s green Earth. Is it really?
Alaska’s Bering Sea Fishermen: Living on the Edge
Tough? Nah, it’s just another stroll through paradise, ain’t it?
The Bering Sea serves up two crab seasons a year, one for king crabs and one for snow crabs. Arnold would venture out multiple times during these 1 to 2-month seasons. Typically, he’d set sail 1 or 2 times for king crab and 3 to 5 times for snow crab.
Positioned between Russia’s Far East and Alaska, the Bering Sea dances to a unique tune of fierce currents, sea ice, and relentless weather patterns. It’s one of the most treacherous fishing spots on the planet. Arnold calls this sea the “eternal storm.”
The 107-foot Rollo is equipped to handle the tempests of these wild waters. While the average waves in the Bering Sea run about 10 to 20 feet, Arnold’s seen monsters at 50 feet, and Captain Eric Naihama once eyeballed an 80-footer. Arnold’s hardly seen the captain sweat, but when he does, the crew knows hell’s about to pay a visit.
Arnold never quite warmed up to these “never-ending storms.” “Makes you sick, and even in your bunk, you’re tossed about like a leaf in the wind,” Arnold laments.
Each trip lasts 5 to 12 days, with 1 to 2 days spent just getting to the fishing grounds.
Before heading to Alaska, the ship’s loaded up with three months’ worth of grub. But most of that packed food goes untouched. The ship’s cook keeps the crew fed with fresh crab legs and seafood caught that very day, steaming them up real nice. Hard labor like crabbing demands meals rich in fat, protein, and omega-3s. Seals popping up for a bite right before your eyes.
Once at the fishing grounds, it’s crabbing till the boat’s bursting at the seams. Sometimes, they fill up in just 3 days; other times, it drags on for 8 or 9.
Commercial fishing means different strokes for different folks. In crabbing, it’s all about dropping pots, relying on hunches for where the crab’s hiding. They call these pots “club pots.”
There’s no surefire way of knowing where the crab’s at, so it’s all trial and error. “You don’t know what’s in the club pot,” Arnold explains. “Could be full, could be empty. We’ve pulled up empty pots after days.”
Those giant club pots weigh around 800 pounds empty. Strategically dropped and picked up regularly, they’re emptied of crab at sea, re-dropped at the same spot if full, or shuffled to a new location if empty.
After hauling up full pots, they’re craned onto the deck and sorted through at the crab sorting table. Anything below the size limit gets tossed back.
Feeding pots, dumping pots, maintaining the ship, sorting crab—it’s relentless work.
Captains hardly let a crew member take a break for filming, but Captain Naihama was an exception. If the conditions were right, he’d let Arnold wield the camera and roll a film or two.
Twenty hours a day, for 3 to 7 days straight—that’s the grueling schedule.
Arnold likens commercial fishing to a gamble. “You never know if you’ll hit the jackpot. Get into a swarm of crab, and you’re sitting on gold. I like the idea of working hard and fast for big bucks rather than slaving away all year.”
It’s pressure-packed, but the crew loves the thrill. Arnold got into commercial fishing drawn by the camaraderie among crewmates. “In America, you’ve got all kinds of folks. We create a temporary civilization and go on crazy adventures together,” Arnold says.
“Even on a safe crabbing vessel, near-misses are common,” Arnold notes. Once, while hoisting a pot onto the Rollo’s deck with a crane, it landed on the crab sorting table where Arnold and others were working. The cable snapped, dropping the 800-pound load, narrowly missing Arnold and the crew. The photo below captures the moment the crane hit a pinata, with the crew looking none too concerned.
With the ship brimming, it’s time to head back. The Rollo can hold up to 200,000 snow crabs or 150,000 king crabs.
What, got no job? We’re always here for you, brother!
