(no subject)
So I took my first real hit the aggressive marine life this morning. I've managed to dodge everything sharp thus far, but this thing snuck up on me.
I was thinking that I'd let the other guys sleep for a bit and took a double watch this evening, and by the end was crazy tired. We've been doing try shots reliably every fifteen minutes since we set sail (meaning by my count only about one thousand more of them before the season ends...) and I'm totally running on autopilot. So on a routine spill I grab the bag to bring it onboard and before I even know what's happening I feel this hot surge of pain as something clamps onto the back of my left hand.
My first thought is that I hope it's not a snake. We're closer to Indonesia than we are to Aus right now, so if I get envenomed I'll have some pretty shady medical care to look foreword to. Instantly sizing up the situation as best as I'm able and carefully weighting the odds of snake vs. not snake (eel perhaps, small shark, maybe some kind of lobster) my mind started to carefully formulate a plan to get loose without making things worse. Instinct, on the other hand, came up with its own reflexive solution of punching the crap out of whatever it was with my free right hand. Two or three heavy shots later, thankfully being absorbed by something broad and substantial rather than long and poisonous, the thing lets go and starts making the weirdest sound I've ever heard a fish make. It was almost like a yappy dog's bark combined with that obscure scream that hollywood squid and dinosaurs would make if they were being punched by a formerly-sleepy-turned-rather-angry guy in a bathrobe. So, with blood everywhere making the ropes even more awkward to handle than normal and my left hand numb and starting to swell, I fumbled around with the knot to pour the aquatic jerk out into open to see if I was dying.
It turned out to be a rather substantial fish, maybe two feet long from jaw to tail. Aside from one little detail it looked just like a bigger version of all the thousands of other nondescript fish we catch daily. Except the gigantic maw full of teeth anyway. Upon seeing that it wasn't a snake I breathed an audible sigh of relief and started to drag the angry (and surprisingly energetic) fish first towards the processing belts to get a better look, and subsequently to the deep freeze where he'll be waiting until the cook wakes up.
Overall the damage isn't too bad. There are puncture wounds on the top of my little finger's knuckle, and then more from its bottom teeth down by my index; it's mouth was pretty much all the way around my hand. There was a lot of bleeding and it managed to dig in pretty deep, but its teeth were needle sharp and pulled out straight when I started hitting it. So even though it definitely sunk down into some muscle and the hand is tingling, I don't think it managed to actually sever anything. For now I'm coating my hand in Dettol and relishing the anticipation of tomorrow's sweet breakfast.
I was thinking that I'd let the other guys sleep for a bit and took a double watch this evening, and by the end was crazy tired. We've been doing try shots reliably every fifteen minutes since we set sail (meaning by my count only about one thousand more of them before the season ends...) and I'm totally running on autopilot. So on a routine spill I grab the bag to bring it onboard and before I even know what's happening I feel this hot surge of pain as something clamps onto the back of my left hand.
My first thought is that I hope it's not a snake. We're closer to Indonesia than we are to Aus right now, so if I get envenomed I'll have some pretty shady medical care to look foreword to. Instantly sizing up the situation as best as I'm able and carefully weighting the odds of snake vs. not snake (eel perhaps, small shark, maybe some kind of lobster) my mind started to carefully formulate a plan to get loose without making things worse. Instinct, on the other hand, came up with its own reflexive solution of punching the crap out of whatever it was with my free right hand. Two or three heavy shots later, thankfully being absorbed by something broad and substantial rather than long and poisonous, the thing lets go and starts making the weirdest sound I've ever heard a fish make. It was almost like a yappy dog's bark combined with that obscure scream that hollywood squid and dinosaurs would make if they were being punched by a formerly-sleepy-turned-rather-angry guy in a bathrobe. So, with blood everywhere making the ropes even more awkward to handle than normal and my left hand numb and starting to swell, I fumbled around with the knot to pour the aquatic jerk out into open to see if I was dying.
It turned out to be a rather substantial fish, maybe two feet long from jaw to tail. Aside from one little detail it looked just like a bigger version of all the thousands of other nondescript fish we catch daily. Except the gigantic maw full of teeth anyway. Upon seeing that it wasn't a snake I breathed an audible sigh of relief and started to drag the angry (and surprisingly energetic) fish first towards the processing belts to get a better look, and subsequently to the deep freeze where he'll be waiting until the cook wakes up.
Overall the damage isn't too bad. There are puncture wounds on the top of my little finger's knuckle, and then more from its bottom teeth down by my index; it's mouth was pretty much all the way around my hand. There was a lot of bleeding and it managed to dig in pretty deep, but its teeth were needle sharp and pulled out straight when I started hitting it. So even though it definitely sunk down into some muscle and the hand is tingling, I don't think it managed to actually sever anything. For now I'm coating my hand in Dettol and relishing the anticipation of tomorrow's sweet breakfast.