August 13th.  We fished until 4pm, before finally admitting that the wind was getting the better of us.

The forecast was calling for 40 MPH winds, and I’d been anxiously anticipating it.  I could use a day off to just sit and sleep.  I knew we should have finished at 2 pm, but there was no way that Axel was going to quit before the other boats stopped fishing as well.   I think it was the 50 mile an hour gust that hit us for 5 minutes and almost blew myself and Jeff off the deck that finally made Axel realize it was time to take a break.

We delivered our fish and then headed behind the Spit in Hook Bay to drop anchor.  Halfway through dinner, however, we began to drag anchor without anyone noticing, and by the time it was obvious, we had already dried up on the bottom.  Despite our best efforts to pull the boat off with the skiff, we were stuck.  Jeff and I were soaked from the spray and rain that was pouring on us as we stood in the bow rigging up tow lines and communicating with Lloyd as he attempted to get us off the bottom.

With the boat dry, the only thing to do was wait until the tide started flooding again. Until 2 am all we could do was watch the rest of Armageddon, our movie for the night, and wait.  At 2 am we went outside and again hooked the skiff up.  Lloyd pulled us off the beach but we had a hard time getting the anchor to catch the bottom.  Every time we dropped it, we would drag from the 40 mile an hour winds with gusts up to 60.

Jeff and I ran up to the bow to pull it back in, drop it again and stand shivering in the cold night air hoping it would catch and hold.

At one point I went inside to turn the hydraulics back on so we could pull the anchor and try again, when suddenly I stepped back out and the wind was gusting about 70 miles an hour!

I looked over the dark water, barely illuminated by the glow of Roger’s halogen rigging lights from where he was anchored up next to us as well, and the wind screamed towards me.  I could see the edge of the gust as it picked up water and created whirling spouts of water.  I grabbed a rigging line and braced myself, with a big grin on my face, anticipating what was to come.

I leaned forward with my knees bent, bent at almost a 45 degree angle as the gust hit me square on.  My hair instantly lifted from both the static electricity in the air and the wind, and the spray was surprisingly refreshing but stinging as I was instantly soaked once again.  I leaned into the wind with my arms held out above my head, holding onto the rigging as the wind screamed around me.

A seagull tried to fly across the bay but was beaten back by the relentless wind that let no one defy it.  The wind was like a living creature, reminding the world around it of its power and authority.

The anchor finally held, but with the weather being so bad, we needed to keep watch all night.  We took turns trading off every hour, each being spent sitting on the edge of the skippers seat watching the anchor. Gusts caused the boat to swell and rock from side to side. Finally, by 10am it died down enough to get some sleep. The experience of standing in and defying 70 mile an hour winds was one of those ‘only in Alaska’ experiences.

Tweet this: Can a fishing boat ride out an #Alaskan storm? Read ‘Anchor Drills’ on @therealalaska to find out! http://ow.ly/4812m