Lobster fishing in October is a mostly depressing endeavor, the huge catches of the summer have diminished to a fraction of the bounty of shedder season. The glut of lobster buoys recedes to a smattering as fisherman move their traps into deeper water or take them home for the winter. The amount of work, however, is only slightly less.
It was one such day when I noticed off to the starboard rail, a cluster of buoys that we refer to as a ‘snarl’. That is, a group of traps that is tangled together. I yelled to my captain, “Hey Dan, check out the snarl...” (names have been changed to protect the guilty) I pointed to the area and the buoys were gone.
I have not been prone to hallucinations since the 60’s and 70’s, so I was quite confounded. Could too much of the captain’s Rush Limbaugh and Howie Carr have addled my brain?
A few minutes later the snarl reappeared about 50 feet behind a Minke(?) whale who had struggled to the surface long enough to gather a few huge breaths of air before sinking beneath the surface. It was obvious what was happening, the animal was entangled in a bunch of rope attached to traps. As we approached the spot, the buoys resurfaced and Captain Dan came up with the harebrained idea of putting one of the lines in the hauler to see if he could pull the lines clear. As soon as the whale felt tension on the line he dove even deeper, causing our boat to heel over dangerously. Dan popped the line out of the hauler just in time to keep us out of ‘Davey Jones Locker’.
Definitely in need of a Plan B, Dan called on the radio to another fisherman who had been trained in whale disentanglement. “Hey Lenny, give me your cell-phone number, I need to call you!” Unable to keep the excitement from his voice, his anxiety prompted other fishermen to check in to offer assistance with whatever mystery prompted this unexpected transmission. Lenny gave his number but Dan dialed it incorrectly and Dan had to repeat his request, causing more fisherman to question the source of such excitement from a normally calm and collected captain.
Lenny said he was only 7 or 8 minutes away and steamed our way.
Let me explain what the law required. When a fisherman finds an entangled whale, he is supposed to call the Coast Guard, and stand by ready to render any assistance. The fishery was in the midst of a political furor over whale mortality from fishing lines, and this could only make it worse.
While waiting for Lenny’s help, Dan decided to drop his grappling hook overboard and circle the whale, hoping to hook the lines and take the weight off the distressed cetacean. This maneuver was extremely dangerous, as the whale had already proven the he could easily capsize our boat. It worked, and rather than trying to dive, the whale just hove to beside us not 30 feet away and gulped great lungfulls of air. There were 9 lines attached to the creature, which Dan proceeded to cut, freeing the whale but leaving it with a nest of rope and buoys still attached. Lenny arrived to deal with the ropes and buoys, and the whale patiently waited as he removed all but one short section of rope caught in its’ mouth.
It then fell to me to haul in 16 traps hand over hand, a process that took over an hour and a half.
A couple of other related facts... one of the buoys was Lenny’s, and as soon as I started the whole fracas, I grabbed my camera and began snapping photos. Captain Dan was furious at me, but I was willing to risk my job to get pictures of this grand adventure. I later had the best snapshot enlarged, framed it, and left it on the seat of Lenny’s truck. It clearly showed the whale and its cluster of buoys with Lenny’s buoy prominent among them. His wife later told me not to expect the photo to be seen on their mantel.
A short while later we cut our trip short and went back to the dock. After pledging myself to secrecy, we offloaded and went home.
The statute of limitations has long since passed, so any legal jeopardy is moot. It was my privilege to be involved in this great and dangerous adventure, one that is at the top of my list of exciting events in my fishing career.
