Conan

He actually existed in the late 80s

As a retired skipper that came up through the hawsepipe, let me start by declaring that commercial fishing in the Bering Sea is a young man's game. Especially on deck.

Ok so let me tell you about Conan: his real name was Eric and he died under a pot launcher before he was 30. His shoulders were wider than he was tall. He had green eyes, long, wavy stoner hair and he smiled great white teeth out of a big-ass viking beard. He liked to fight for beer. He once threw me across the compartment by my Alaska Ship Supply hoodie one handed. One handed. I was 23y/o and about 6'2" 240lb at the time.

why? WHY?!! WTF? because he caught me swapping the '74 Jailbreak cassette (that had been playing on repeat for about 36 hrs)for Dirty Deeds. I mean I fucking sneaked over there to the mud room in a workaday heavy sea and was trying to get it done before I could be noticed. timed the insertion between songs... but NO! just as I was about to press play, I found myself airborne against the roll. against. the. roll. you know how hard that is? it was a minor gale and us taking it on the port bow. I had NEVER been manhandled like that. Fuckin Conan.

So we heard 74 Jailbreak again...and again...and Conan was pleased...as we failed to catch fish for a month, come what may

it was my first fishing trip

i made 900 dollars in 39 days

welcome to dutch harbor