The Bering Sea is one of the most feared and fearsome regions of the Pacific
Ocean.
Strong centers of low atmospheric pressure generate frequent and severe
winter storms. Winds whip up 40-foot-high waves that will coat entire ships
in ice as they fight their way through the constant fog and powerful tides.
Ice fields cover a sizeable area deep into April.
One assumes that ships and sailors would want to stay away from this corner
of the ocean.
This is not the case, however, since it is also one of most productive
and profitable marine ecosystems. It abounds with marine life. It is the source
of more than half of the United States' commercial fish catch with an annual
value of $1 billion. Several commercial shipping lines also run through it.
This, then, explains the long list of ships and sailors who met their end
in the Bering Sea.
But since commercial shipping outfits cannot afford to stay away, high-sea
incidents are common. This puts an immense amount of pressure on local coast
guard ships and their crews. And they have to perform under the most intense
and inhospitable conditions.
Linda Sturgis served as a navigator for two years on board a United States
Coast Guard cutter. She recalls a mission in which her ship had to fight its
way through 30-foot seas in the middle of February in response to a distress
call from a science vessel that had been adrift for several days.
"It was just nasty, just nasty," she recalls.
The science vessel was researching plankton when bad weather knocked out
its entire engine system. The vessel started to drift. All the radios were
down except for a small hand-held unit. The crew eventually made contact with
a nearby fishing boat. It then contacted its base, which then relayed the
message to the coast guard.
The cutter sprung into action at around midnight and raced towards the
science vessels at its top speed of 28 knots. Ten hours later, it reached
the distressed vessels. And the timing could not have been better. The science
vessel was dangerously close to the shoreline, and the elements pushed the
vessel even closer to it.
So the next step was to tow it away from immediate danger. Rough seas,
however, made this part of the operation difficult. The crew needed half an
hour to secure a towing line.
But in the end, the cutter rescued all 25 scientists, researchers and crewmembers
off the other ship. The ordeal left them exhausted. Some were suffering from
borderline hypothermia. But they all knew that this incident could have had
a much worse ending. "They were really happy to see us," says Sturgis.
Her maritime career began in her hometown of Norfolk, Virginia. Near famous
Chesapeake Bay, Norfolk and its people have developed a close bond with the
sea, and Sturgis simply continued a family tradition when she decided to go
to sea. And just like her grandfather, father and brother, she joined the
coast guard.
"You give so much back to the public," she says. "We don't get a lot of
publicity, but we give back as much as we can because our mission is safety."
But life on sea exacts a price. For one, your living space is significantly
smaller than on land. Indeed, crewmembers may have to share bunks. And you
are stuck with the same people in a place you may not be able to leave for
many months.
"You pretty much eat with your boss, work with your boss, and if you have
any downtime, you play cards with your boss," says Sturgis.
So you better be able to get along with everybody, says Barrie Hudson,
a former marine navigator. And that may not be easy, since the tight confines
of a vessel tend to magnify any personal and psychological problems crew members
may experience.
"You can have disturbances and that sort of stuff," says Hudson. "You may
be fighting with people and not like them. That's very common."
On the other hand, life on board can also be rather boring. Hudson says
there is always plenty to do if you are on duty -- standing watch as they
say -- but he admits it can be difficult to fill free time.
"Some people can be bored stiff," says Hudson. It can also get pretty lonely.
"A container ship also has 14 people on board, and you may go days without
seeing some of these people."
Hudson certainly speaks from experience. He was a navigator for several
years. During this time, he and his profession experienced a technological
revolution. Navigators now rely on satellites and sophisticated software instead
of the stars to keep a steady course.
"Computerization has changed a lot of things," says Hudson. "Navigation
programs now simplify things."
But technology has not necessarily eliminated the need for seasoned navigators.
You have to realize technology can fail, says Hudson. "The bridge has to be
manned properly," he says. "Somebody has to keep a lookout."
The Exxon Valdez disaster underscored that point. Fatigue, alcohol and
poor training were responsible for the worst oil spill in U.S. history when
it ran aground near Prince William Sound in Alaska. More than 11 million gallons
of crude oil spilled out. It severely damaged one of most the beautiful and
pristine natural environments.
On a positive note, the accident led to the development of stricter and
higher safety standards. But nobody should have any grand illusions about
going to sea. It is not romantic and it can be dangerous.
Just ask Sturgis about the Bering Sea.