THE BRIGHT SEA

Disa´s cousin, Brjánn, shares a fishing boat with a group of friends.
Named Bjartmar, "Bright Sea," it was this boat that we took to sea
in yesterday, a last minute opportunity first heard about the night
before. Disa had been hoping this would happen, but hadn´t
mentioned it to me in case Brjánn´s turn with the boat didn´t come
around in time. When he called Tuesday night just before midnight
to invite us along on the fishing trip, Disa let out a sing-song sigh of
joy. I knew something good was happening. Disa had paid daily
visits to take care of Brjánn´s ill father while Brjánn and his sister
were away for a week in early July, and the offer to join the fishing
trip was an expression of appreciation.

Five of us headed out together - Brjánn, Siggi, Svafnar, Disaand me
- on yet another cloudless, sunny day in Iceland. The temperature,
as Disa was only too happy to point out, was to reach 20 Celsius,
beyond the predicted highs in Scandinavia. We´d stopped in at
Sverrir´s, Disa´s brother´s place, in the early dawn to pick up the
high boots, rubber gloves and fisherman´s clothes we needed. In
our packsack were a thermos of coffee, a loaf of bread, cheese, apple
slices, and a skyrr drink, along with some folded plastic bags for the
fish we hoped to catch. Once aboard, Brjánn guided the Bright Sea
out into the North Atlantic.

First we went to a spot where there´d been success in recent days,
but after fifteen minutes of inaction, we moved a little farther out.
Svafnar had the first catch, haddock, but too young to keep. After
a few more small ones, the Bright Sea was moving again, out to
where we could see one of the glaciers gleaming white off in the
distance and the town of Akranes to the north of Reykjavík. Here
the waves grew in size, and my body reminded me that I´m from
the prairies.

We found where the cod were biting. Siggi brought in a good one,
then Brjánn hauled in two, then Disa caught her first. Svafnar
hauled in a good-sized haddock, dropped his line in again and
before he´d touched bottom with his lure, he had the biggest cod
of the day so far. It came up fighting, and wasn´t hooked very
well. He called out for someone to grab the small harpoon to
hook it when he brought it alongside the boat. Disa, daughter
of a proud fisherman, grabbed the harpoon and, without a flinch,
speared the big cod, lifted it, and tossed it into the bottom of the
boat as easily as she´d toss a loaf of bread into a shopping cart.
Damn! I would be telling her pabbi about this!

The action in that spot dried up, and we moved farther out to
where the waters were heaving a little. Siggi was the first to
pack it in and go lie down in the cabin, grabbing the first-aid
kit for some pills to ease his sea sickness. I admit that I was
beginning to hold on myself. No luck when we stopped, so
Brjánn took us out to where Hallgrimskirkja, the church that
keeps watch high over Reykjavík, was no longer in view. Oh,
lord. He found some serious bottom movement on his cool
whatchamacallit screen, and we got to it. I caught my first, a
good-sized haddock, and for a while there it was haul them in
as fast as we could, taking turns helping free each other´s hooks
from the fishes´ mouths, blood everywhere, including my own
as I´d hooked one of my fingers, too.

Brjánn, Disa and Svafnar were the hardcore experts, for sure,
but I was getting the hang of it. Disa then felt something a little
stronger than usual and her line went zinging. Everyone stopped
to steady the boat as she fought to bring this baby in. Squeals
accompanied the first sight of the biggest fish of the trip. She
was all business, winding, lifting, reeling again, until Svafnar
doubled up with the small harpoon and they landed it in the boat.
Everyone let out a big WHOAH!, so loud that even Siggi, holding
his belly and looking a little green, came out of the cabin to have
a look-see. We didn´t have a scale, but Brjánn said it was a good
12 kg, around 26 lbs. If you´ve ever seen Disa´s smile, just add
an inch to each corner...

We were out for seven hours, took in around 100 kg of fish, which
was later cleaned, filleted and divided among - by rough count -
about 20 families. I caught 17 fish, but nothing to compare with
isa´s winning cod. Once ashore again, barely able to walk without
tilting as though still on the sea, we took our bloodied, fish-smelling
boots and duds off and, tired though we were, went driving off to
deliver fresh catch-of-the-day to every member of Disa´s family.

It is a day I´ll always remember.

Tonight, my last in Reykjavík, the families and friends of the
Bright Sea fishing crew will all be dining on fresh cod, haddock
and ocean perch. I´ll be sitting down with the lovely fisherman´s
daughter, raising a glass of white wine to her many kindnesses.

What a grand time I´ve had in Iceland.

DL