JEN PICKETT is a freelance writer, a poet, and a commercial fisherman. She has spent nearly two decades in Alaska’s commercial fishing industry. Starting as crewman, she’s worked tenders, seiners, trollers, gill netters and long liners fishing Alaska’s waters for herring, salmon, and halibut from Southeast Alaska to the Copper River Flats, Prince William Sound, Kodiak and Bristol Bay. At the age of 28 she became one of the few women to own and skipper her boat on one of Alaska’s most dangerous waters, the Copper River Flats, where she fished alone for the famous Copper River Kings and Reds. Encountering storms, breakers, broken-down equipment, ripped up nets, exhaustion, whales, sharks, and close-calls with giant cruise ships and many other near misses, all became the norm aboard her 28’ boat. After 5 seasons of this nonsense she moved to Anchorage to finish her degree in hoping to create a normal life on land with banker’s hours. However, the pull of the ocean proved to be too strong, she went fishing again but this time with a new purpose, to write about it. You can read her recent work at pickfishtales.blogspot.com.
VIDEO
Jen Pickett performs "Climbing Corks" Video courtesy of Brad Wartman, 2013
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AUDIO
WRITINGS
Free
Getting launched from my bunk,
In Shelikof straights,
Spend hours upon hours
Not sitting up straight
The rammin’ the jammin’
The reamin’ and screamin’
Hopes of redeeming)
Yet another season
The cold wind, the cold water,
Eyes full of jellies
All this slaughter
For fish for our bellies.
The sore arms, sore back, sore neck
The numb hands that won’t work.
This moldy cheese, curled milk
That cook is a jerk.
No sleep, no rest,
No fish, no money.
Weeks out at sea,
No word from my honey.
The smell of the diesel, the gury, the funk
That follows me all the way to my bunk.
My sleeping bag smells like an engine rag
That damn foc’sle done gone to the dregs
What?
Didn’t you say “let ‘er go?”
You gave the thumbs up
You just saying you like to sew?
Well, the net is going out
So, what now?
Pull it in! The skipper does shout.
We pull our guts out,
Drag that damn seine in by hand
All drenched with sweat
All but too tired to stand
There’s no herring here
we’ll make another set
somewhere over there
that looks like a good bet
We scurry
and Set out again
We gotta hurry
And say a prayer, amen.
But, that’s Togiak Herring
There’s a lot at stake
And those 10 minutes openers
That’s not even coffee break
You gotta get ‘em while you can
before the season is closed
and when that will happen
nobody knows
I’d love to end this story
saying we got a big set and were heros
but, it was a waterhaul
and we ended up with zero
But, works’ for jerks is my motto
no steady pay check for me
I make my living on the ocean
and often I work for free
Getting launched from my bunk,
In Shelikof straights,
Spend hours upon hours
Not sitting up straight
The rammin’ the jammin’
The reamin’ and screamin’
Hopes of redeeming)
Yet another season
The cold wind, the cold water,
Eyes full of jellies
All this slaughter
For fish for our bellies.
The sore arms, sore back, sore neck
The numb hands that won’t work.
This moldy cheese, curled milk
That cook is a jerk.
No sleep, no rest,
No fish, no money.
Weeks out at sea,
No word from my honey.
The smell of the diesel, the gury, the funk
That follows me all the way to my bunk.
My sleeping bag smells like an engine rag
That damn foc’sle done gone to the dregs
What?
Didn’t you say “let ‘er go?”
You gave the thumbs up
You just saying you like to sew?
Well, the net is going out
So, what now?
Pull it in! The skipper does shout.
We pull our guts out,
Drag that damn seine in by hand
All drenched with sweat
All but too tired to stand
There’s no herring here
we’ll make another set
somewhere over there
that looks like a good bet
We scurry
and Set out again
We gotta hurry
And say a prayer, amen.
But, that’s Togiak Herring
There’s a lot at stake
And those 10 minutes openers
That’s not even coffee break
You gotta get ‘em while you can
before the season is closed
and when that will happen
nobody knows
I’d love to end this story
saying we got a big set and were heros
but, it was a waterhaul
and we ended up with zero
But, works’ for jerks is my motto
no steady pay check for me
I make my living on the ocean
and often I work for free
------------------------------
Waiting
Salmon,
carefully cut into strips
hang to dry.
The skin, glimmering in the sun
like silver sequence.
The flesh,
ruby red as a lady’s lips
waiting to be tasted.
------------------------------
Value
I will take a sockeye out of Bristol Bay.
I will take the roe from its belly
and go and preach to the world;
you shall see
I will not meet a single
heretic or scorner,
you shall see how I stump congressmen,
and confound them
you shall see me showing a scarlet egg,
and a gold pebble from the beach.
I will ask them to weigh their value.
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Xtra-Tufs
Now Xtra-Tufs are the best foot receptacles
For hiking, fishing, weddings and carnivals
And you sir, do not have a pair of barnacles
If you prefer wearing shoes
Xtra-Tufs are not cheap or disposable
In a million years they are decomposable
And unlike my boat that are not foreclosable
CFAB can kiss my bass woo
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
Its raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
I wear you
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
It’s raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
Now I really love how you’re easy to fold
But I really hate when you get old
And you don’t stand up on your own
Well that my friends just ain’t ducky
But I have to admit the gents get a smitten
Admiring my splash zone patch that’s a fixin’
The tear I got once when I was a fishin’
One day when I wasn’t so lucky
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
Its raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
I wear you
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
It’s raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
Now I’ve have you in steel toe
And I’ve have you in insulated
Which keep my feet warm in waters that are glaciated
Cuz you are the 40 ounce to the inebriated
And you are the sac to my roe
Xtra-Tuf …you’re more that just neoprene
I see you in magazine
And in milieu that are marine
And believe me, I’m not the least bit sardonic
When I turn to you and say:
Xtra-Tuf, you not just a trend
And I don’t wear you just to blend
Only on you I can depend
Thank you, for being my friend
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
Its raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
I wear you
Xtra-Tuf
My feet fill you up
It’s raining humpies
Let’s seine some humpies
------------------------------
Fishin’ Again
Those seas were high
Yet there I was
Standing on my boat
Though those waves were mean,
The Copper River Flats, not serene
But I manage to stay afloat.
My thoughts turn
towards headin’ back to town
where it is safe and warm.
But them salmon keep a runnin’
And them bills keep a comin’
So out my net does go….
Those westerly’s come a crashin’
O’er my bow
And slap me in my face.
I taste the salt
on my lips
And ponder about my fate
Cuz, the forecast came true,
and my decision was made for me.
Those 50 knot winds closed all the bars
Now I have to spend the night out at sea.
“Keep fishin’” says I
Its do or die
Its now I must keep my faith
And low and behold
What the sea does unfold
A king as big as I
So I set out again
And fight with the wind
It’s a struggle just to keep alive.
The riggin’ is singin’
My head is a ringin’
“What the hell am I doing?”
But if this day looks bleak,
And if I make it to the end of the week,
The tide is sure to change.
I’ll stick-n-stay,
And I’ll make ‘er pay!
The hour be not too late.
So keep fishin’ I must
Or this season, a bust!
Then I’d be the one to pay
Cuz’ the ocean, you see
Is intertwined with me
The same salt runs through our veins.
And I need her
As she needs me
So I go out
Fishin’ again.
A mile off Koke
No other boats in sight
The fleet all went back to town
but there I was
right or wrong
Fishing through the night.
Gotta get those debts paid off,
One fish at a time.
All the smart guys went back town,
boats secure in their stall.
sea anchor
bars closed/have to stay out
enough fuel?
show thoughts instead of tell story
I need her and she needs me
So I go out
Fishing Again.
