Perfectly Awful

Alaska mariners have witnessed their share of mighty storms; some lived to tell about them

(Lifestyles, July 2, 2000)

By Holly M. Sanders
Daily News Reporter

In crabbing waters off Alaska, captain Spencer Bronson and the six-man crew of the Bulldog ran into a full-blown winter gale.

The 135-foot schooner was in the middle of the Bering Sea, more than 400 miles from Dutch Harbor and nowhere near a protective cape or inlet.

The storm slammed into the ocean, dredging up 40-foot waves and generating winds of 75 knots. For hours, the Bulldog's bow took a beating. When angry seas showed no sign of letting up, Bronson decided the boat would ride out the storm better with the stern facing the onslaught.

As the Bulldog reared around, the first wave hit.

''It sounded like a bomb,'' Bronson said.

An enormous wave smashed through the rear bulkhead and pretty much ''wiped out the back of the boat.'' It demolished the galley, throwing an industrial kitchen stove 4 feet and tearing cabinets off the walls.

The wave drove the boat like a piling. It plunged so far forward that the stern went under. Water flooded into the pilothouse, almost 20 feet above the deck.

Crewmen bunked down for the storm raced to find the captain.

''We've got water coming in!'' yelled the cook, who'd waded through the galley to get to the pilothouse.

Bronson figures the entire episode lasted less than a minute, but he admits that for the first and only time in his almost 30 years at sea, he thought: ''We're going down.''

If it sounds like something out of a movie, there's a reason. Few people have witnessed a storm that awe-inspiring or survived such a harrowing experience. Storm-at-sea stories pack an emotional wallop: They take people into the heart of the maelstrom and leave them gasping for more.

Hollywood is banking that similar drama on the high seas will draw millions of voyeurs to theaters. ''The Perfect Storm,'' a major studio production that opened in theaters Friday, re-creates an October 1991 tempest off the East Coast -- a convergence of three weather systems so rare and powerful that a meteorologist called it ''the perfect storm.''

Based on Sebastian Junger's best-selling book by that name, the film details the story of the Andrea Gail, a commercial swordfishing boat that headed tragically into the center of the storm.

Alaska's meteorologists have never recorded a ''perfect storm'' like that legendary nor'easter, which created 100-foot waves and winds of 120 mph. But storm tracks in the Bering Sea and Gulf of Alaska routinely spin off monsters.

''This is not the kind of place where you have one big storm,'' said Dave Goldstein, a forecaster for the National Weather Service in Anchorage. ''We have a lot of bad storms.''

THE MOST DANGEROUS JOB

Unlike the crew of the Andrea Gail, Bronson and his men survived the tempest. The Bulldog rebounded from the blast. The crew repaired the bulkhead with steel and foam, resumed course and fished for another week.

The story is familiar to commercial fishermen in Alaska's waters, and many can relate a similar white-knuckle account. Every year they battle ferocious storms and enormous waves. Winds over 100 mph and seas of 50 feet are not uncommon. Sometimes the sea spray is so thick it looks like smoke.

The terrifying weather has made commercial fishing the most dangerous occupation in Alaska. An average of 34 boats and 24 lives are lost in the industry each year, an occupational fatality rate 20 times the national average, according to a 1997 report by the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health.

That death rate was actually down compared with previous years' rates. Deaths associated with vessel losses dropped from 27 percent of all fishing deaths to 7 percent from 1991 to 1998, even though the number of sinkings remained about the same, according to the institute.

Officials credit the Commercial Fishing Safety Act of 1988 for the decrease.

Federal law requires that fishing boats working in cold waters carry survival suits, life rafts and emergency flotation devices.

Still, fishermen are the first to admit theirs is the roughest sort of business and still one of the deadliest. All the surveys, studies and annual statistics tell them what they already know: The more they go out to sea, the more likely they are not to come back.

Donald ''Butch'' Aus, a longtime fisherman who lives in Dutch Harbor, lost his father, his younger brother and a friend to the sea.

''It's a hard way to make a living,'' said Aus, not one to dwell on the particulars. ''It's the risk you take.''

The dangers are numerous and unpredictable. A couple of years ago, captain Dan Hanson was caught in huge seas aboard the Arctic Fjord. The waves were 40-footers, with winds close to 80 knots.

Riding out the storm, he encountered a ''rogue'' or freak wave. Fishermen who have witnessed these waves say they appear to gather so much water that a hole appears at their base.

All Hanson knows is that the enormous wave slapped the side of the 270-foot factory trawler and blew out a window in the stateroom. The glass was imbedded in a crewman's bunk. Fortunately, the man wasn't lying in it.

Hanson also tells of a friend whose neck was broken when a wave blew out a window. As wind screamed through the hole, the boat rolled so far over that a compressor stalled. The vessel came close to capsizing before righting itself.

Hanson was lucky to be aboard a large boat.

''One of the worst things is when you take out a wheelhouse window on one of the smaller boats,'' he said.

A smaller boat that loses a window can fill up with water in a hurry. If enough water gets in, it can soak the wiring and knock out the radio and navigation equipment.

METEOROLOGICAL HELL

Weather forecasters often refer to Alaska's Aleutian Islands as a breeding ground for storms. Warm air moving north from the tropics and cold air moving south from the Arctic clash over the islands. The air masses don't mix, which makes for violent storms.

Alaska's ''Coffin Corner,'' between Prince William Sound and Yakutat, is home to a disproportionate number of tempests as well. The St. Elias Mountains, one of the world's highest coastal ranges, trap storms in the Gulf of Alaska, building air pressure and creating fierce winds.

For a long time, forecasters were limited in their ability to gather comprehensive marine weather information.

Satellite pictures could show a big storm brewing but not specific marine conditions. Buoys, which report information like wind speed and direction, were and still are in short supply; there are only five for the entire state.

New satellite technology, however, has revolutionized forecasting, said Gary Hufford, regional scientist for the National Weather Service in Alaska.

Forecasters now can provide fishermen with wind speeds and direction every couple of hours.

Yet storm systems can build and strike in less time. Forecasters rely on fishermen to report weather conditions on the water and confirm the accuracy of satellite data.

''We're still in the learning stage,'' Hufford said.

Al Burch, executive director of Alaska Draggers, a fishing association based on Kodiak Island, said fishermen understand that marine forecasts are critical. The competition for a valuable market commodity doesn't kill an inherent sense of concern for each other.

''The guys are really honest with you when it comes to the weather,'' Burch said. ''They might not tell you exactly where they're fishing, but they'll tell you when you should stay home.''

But competition does play a part in the high fatality rate, especially among those who work the crab fisheries in the Bering Sea. Fishing captains say the mad dash to fill their annual quota and make a profit can lead them into nasty weather.

Unfortunately, crab season coincides with storm season. In the cold months of winter, sea spray freezes on the rigging and the 750-pound crabbing pots.

The ice can become so thick and heavy that fishermen use 12-pound sledgehammers and baseball bats to clear it.

Lance Farr, captain of the crabbing vessel Kavleen K, said he has heard of top-heavy boats tipping over like drunken sailors.

''That's my greatest fear,'' he said.

DEATH AT SEA

Jeff Harris, a C-130 navigator for the U.S. Coast Guard based on Kodiak Island, helped with several rescue missions during the famed October 1991 storm off the East Coast.

At one point, he looked down and witnessed the incredible power of the ocean. Enormous waves were lifting a 900-foot tanker, a monster itself, out of the water.

''The entire back of the boat was exposed -- both the propellers,'' he said.

''It was just awesome.''

Now Harris flies rescue missions over Alaska waters. He said crab boats in the Bering Sea remind him of the tanker, the waves, the risks men are willing to take.

''You fly over some of these guys and you think, 'No way,' '' he said. ''I wouldn't do it for as much money as they're making.''

The sinking of the Lin-J in Alaska waters in March 1999 rivaled that of the Andrea Gail. Five men died when the 96-foot crabber overturned off St. Paul Island.

The accident stunned the Kodiak fishing community. Blake Kinnear, a third-generation fisherman, was considered an experienced and reliable skipper.

His body, dressed only in shorts and a T-shirt, was found near the overturned boat. The Coast Guard never found the other four crewmen and eventually called off the search.

No one knows for sure what happened, but most people blame the weather. Around the time of the wreck, the Weather Service reported an ice storm and wind gusts reaching 80 mph in the Pribilof Islands, near the wreckage site.

Robert ''Tiny'' Schasteen, one of Kinnear's cousins, said almost the entire population of Kodiak attended funeral services for the men. Most everyone he knows has mourned a fisherman at one time or another, he said.

Schasteen, vice president of operations for a seafood processing plant in Dutch Harbor, has watched a Discovery Channel documentary about the sinking of the Lin-J. He's not sure he'll go see ''The Perfect Storm.''

''It just looks a little too real,'' he said. ''When you've been out in the stuff and water is breaking over the boat, it's a very real thing.''

Some of the largest storms to hit Alaska in the past five years have claimed lives, damaged boats and whipped the wind and seas to inconceivable levels.

Source: National Weather Service, Alaska Region

Nov. 26, 1997: Winds gusting to more than 100 mph combined with 10- to 20-foot swells caused the Kuroshima, a 368-foot Japanese freighter, to break anchor and run aground at Dutch Harbor. Two crew members were killed in the wreck, and 18 were rescued by the Coast Guard. The damaged ship leaked 47,000 gallons of oil into the sea.

Nov. 26-28, 1998: Several fishing vessels reported sustained winds of nearly 70 mph as an intense storm moved south of Dutch Harbor. The automated weather system at the airport recorded wind gusts of 105 mph. Williwaws, sudden gusts of wind that have been measured up to 113 mph, were also reported in the area.

Dec. 21-22, 1999: A pilot grounded in Cordova reported sustained winds of 104 mph, with gusts reaching 150 mph. Two vessels broke anchor during the storm and ended up on the breakwater.

Jan. 21-24 ,1999: A raging storm wreaked havoc during the winter Bering Sea fishing season. The Coast Guard hoisted more than a dozen crew members off eight fishing vessels, including all six men aboard the Nowitna. The 125-foot crabbing boat sank sometime afterward. A Coast Guard cutter also tried to help the Dona Martita, but 50-mph winds and 20-foot seas interfered.

Feb. 20-21, 1999: The Hekifu ran aground in Dutch Harbor after unexpected wind gusts dragged its anchors toward shore. The 308-foot, Liberian-flagged vessel was waiting to pick up a load of fish when 80-mph winds knocked it into Rocky Point.

March 17-19, 1999: Five men were killed when the Lin-J, a 96-foot crabbing vessel, capsized off St. Paul Island. The Coast Guard never found the bodies of four crewmen. The National Weather Service reported an ice storm and wind gusts reaching 80 mph in the Pribilof Islands, near the wreckage site.

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