One of a kind?

With money a necessity and a lengthy period of unemployment inevitable, last November I took up my father's offer of work. I did four mandatory courses that enabled me to earn money as a commercial fisherman, and once completed, my dad talked me through what I was to do.

The first time I went out on the boat, and was fully licensed to do so, my dad and his crew had 'hit the jackpot' the previous night. They wanted me to jump aboard in our fishing village to steam down to Falmouth to help land the catch of anchovies. A boat FULL of anchovies.

I can't remember exactly how much that catch weighed, but it wouldn't have been far from 12 tonne. It took us about 4 hours to land, and a 2 hour steam each way. All in daylight. For those who don't know, anchovies are worth about 3 times the amount of the usual catch of sardines, so I was paid handsomely for my efforts.

Somewhat naively, I was impressed with the ease at which so much money could be earned, and threw myself whole-heartedly into this season's ring-netting. My luck? We haven't caught anchovies again this season, so no cut of a jackpot for me! I don't mean to sound ungrateful; I've earned more than I could doing any other sort of temporary job this winter in Cornwall. There is, however, a tendency, for one's mind to dwell on the potential for the bigger, better or quicker catch. Human nature, I suppose.

I was dubious to start with though, about the various necessities that are associated with this type of work. For instance, it involves going out about an hour prior to sunset, and more often than not, not returning home until a few hours before, or even after dawn. So for most of the winter, I have spent my waking hours, in the dark- a problem for some, I would imagine. I also dealt with the 'below-par' toilet facilities a.k.a; a bucket. As an 'outdoorsy' person though, this was not much of a issue. I spent every night donned in the classic but incredibly unflattering yellow oilskins (I would I have been a lot colder and wetter without them!).

I gladly dealt with the hard work and muscle aches of 3 hours bent over in the fish room, shovelling fish. I even dealt with the teasing, the first time I emerged from the fishroom, with my hair matted with fish scales (I hadn't the foresight to wear a hat- a mistake I will only ever make once I think!). I have made hundreds of cups of tea for the crew, and watched for hours on end at blue, yellow, green, and red blobs on a sonar screen. I've also heard more swear words and profanities than I ever thought possible! I haven't yet had the misfortune to suffer from seasickness, but luckily for me, this type of fishing is a relatively fine weather one, and so conditions are rarely rough enough form me to do so.

Unfortunately, I have also witnessed tragic scenes that I hope no one else ever needs to. I've been shaken to my very core, and forced to question a lot of practices and meaning. I have silently hoped and prayed for the lives of people I know, and now fear for the lives of others I hold dear.

After reading that, I can't imagine many people would be envious of me. My opinion? I think they should be!

I've seen porpoises diving at the bow of the boat. I have seen gannets diving into the sea. Watched a seal get himself an easy meal (climbing over the headrope of our net, into a 10 tonne bag of fish); the equivalent of an all you can eat buffet! I've hand fed a wild seal in Falmouth harbour; a seal the size of a small car, with teeth that would rival those of any beast found on land! I seen a full moon the colour of amber and lighting up an entire bay. I've seen a whole full sky of stars on most nights I've been out. I've watched the sun rise in front of me, over the horizon, as I sit on deck on my way home. I've caught shoals of fish worth thousands of pounds. I've seen so many different species and size of fish, learning all the while about their characteristics. I've seen the sky so dark you can't use your eyes for navigation, but need to rely on plotters and the radar. I've been the only boat, or apart from the crew, the only person for miles around me. I've been in total silence but also amid hundreds of screaming gulls all trying to get at our catch in the net.

As I walk among others in London or even in Cornwall, I can't help but wonder if I really am one of a kind? A female graduate of Cambridge University with a Master's degree, working on a commercial fishing vessel, and loving it? I'm certainly the only one I know!

I've shed blood, sweat and tears this season. I've witnessed some of natures most wonderful things. I've also witnessed the power of the seas and the consequences they have. I have earned more money than ever before, and worked hard for it. I've learnt more than can ever be gathered from a book.

I've been physically exhausted, fallen asleep standing up, and been frustrated by the poor prices the tonnes of fish we catch makes. I think it is fair to say, I've had a baptism by fire this winter!

So, if you had wondered why my name is Fisher_Girl, now you know!

And a word to those who maybe think it is beneath them, or a disagreeable job, from someone who has done it, I say, don't knock it until you have tried it! And, ask yourselves, how much job satisfaction do you get from your office job? Not as much as I do, that is for sure.

But also, to those who are interested in doing more, eat more fish! The Cornish waters are full of fish, and by doing so, you support small businesses and non-destructive practices. In return, you get a healthy, fresh meal that is cheap and full of vitamins. Where's the catch?!

Thanks,

Becky