When I was a Marine Biology student at the University of Guelph in Ontario, I planted trees in Northern Ontario for three summers to help pay my way through school. The toughest working days of my life were spent planting trees. Swarms of blood hungry insects, no shelter from the elements, and running on not much sleep describes an average day. I tell you this because lobster fishing reminds me a lot of those tree-planting days. Let me explain…

THURSDAY, JULY 26TH

2:00 p.m.

I call my friend Gerry Field, a lobster fisherman in Advocate, Nova Scotia. I ask him if he's interested in having a volunteer on his boat on the following day, Friday, as a part of the Fundy Forum's 'Faces of Fundy' project. I tell him that I realize it's short notice, but as he knows, the season ends on the 31st and I'd really like to do it now rather than the fall season (October 15th to December 31st). And besides, I think to myself, the weather forecast says it's going to be a nice summer day to boot.

Gerry agrees to have me aboard, and tells me that I have to be at the boat by 5:45 am. I silently groan but cheerily manage to say, "Great, thanks Gerry! Looking forward to it." as I mentally calculate that means I must wake up at 4:15 to make the drive from Parrsboro the following morning. Gerry adds that I should "dress like it's fall", which instantly shatters my image of being on the boat in my tank top and shorts, catching a tan and some summer rays.

FRIDAY, JULY 27TH

4:15 am

It's still dark out. The alarm sounds and I groggily fumble for my watch to turn it off. My husband immediately says, "You know, you don't have to go." My thoughts exactly, but as early as it is and as tired as I am, my excitement about going lobster fishing for the day pushes me out of bed.

I make a strong cup of coffee and try to organize myself for the day, all the while kicking myself for not doing it the night before. In my morning fog, I surprise myself by managing not to forget anything. I pack all the essentials of lobster fishing, (which are remarkably similar to those of tree planting) - sun screen, lip balm, warm clothes, waterproof pants and coat, rubber boots, food, baseball hat, water, and toilet paper.

4:45 am

We manage to leave Parrsboro on time and make the drive to Advocate Harbour, about 45 minutes west along the coast. I get dropped off at the wharf with 10 minutes to spare and find Gerry and Mark, his deck hand, waiting for me on board the Chignecto Mariner. I climb down the ladder and on to the boat to get myself settled in. Gerry tells me where to put my bag and shows me around.

Custom built in 1995, Gerry's boat, the Chignecto Mariner is in her 7th year of fishing. Born and raised in Advocate, Gerry's been fishing in the area since 1988 for himself, and on and off before that working as a deck hand with others.

Mark has been fishing with Gerry for 9 years, and was also born and raised in the area. When he's not lobstering you can find him on a local scallop boat or in a blueberry field.

5:45 am

It appears as though the weather forecast was right - not a cloud in the sky and a light wind. Although I'm known to have a 'stomach of steel', I'm still a little nervous about seasickness. Gerry, I find out later, has never been seasick in his life.

Gerry starts up the engine and we start heading out to our first set of lines (lobster traps are set in rows, called lines, which makes them easy to find on foggy and rough days). Advocate Harbour is calm and peaceful this time of day, and the sun is gently peaking over Cape d'Or. I can't imagine a more beautiful place to go to work.

Gerry comments that the boat feels slow. He filled up the 200-gallon fuel tank the day before, which adds a noticeable amount of weight. The fuel (diesel) should last him about a week, so I'm not surprised he feels a difference in the boat.

We leave the harbour and the water gets a little rougher. Nothing serious to cause my stomach concern. Gerry turns to his GPS plotter and sets the boat on autopilot for our first line, about 3.5 miles off shore. We're travelling at a steady, fast pace to the traps, and we're 'steaming'.

While we're steaming, Gerry gives me a tour of his control panel. The main piece of equipment he uses is the GPS (Global Positioning System) plotter. All of Gerry's lines and traps are programmed into this machine, so he knows exactly where they are and can use the autopilot for steaming.

He also has a depth sounder and a radar system. The depth sounder tells him how deep his traps are, and the deepest traps we hit that day were about 40 fathoms, or 240 feet. In all, the technical equipment for any fishing boat is a large investment.

6:20 am

We reach the first line, and Gerry asks that I stay in the cabin for the first few lines. They are racing the tide right now, and he'll let me help out later. The first line is pretty far offshore, and Gerry has about a 45-minute window to get these traps. These traps must be hauled during the turn of the tide, when the water flow is at a minimum. After or before that, the tidal flow is so strong that the buoys are hauled under water and they can't be seen. We manage to haul all but a few.

I watch in fascination as Gerry steers the boat beside a buoy (his are marked with yellow and orange), quickly grabs the gaff (a wooden pole with a metal hook on it), reaches over the side of the boat and pulls up with the trap line hooked. Mark grabs the line and hooks it on the winch as Gerry starts the winch motor. As the trap surfaces, they each grab a side and lever it on to the plywood platform. At 95 pounds each, these traps take some muscle to manoeuvre.

The trap is opened and Mark grabs the old bait bags and tosses them into a bucket. Gerry takes any lobsters and throws them back if they're too small (he can pretty much tell just by looking at them, he's been doing it for so long). If he's not sure about the size he measures it.

If the lobster is a legal size, the first thing they do is look for eggs, which would make her 'berried'. Berried females are illegal to have aboard the boat, and they are thrown back immediately. If there are no eggs, then the lobster is put onto a wooden tray where it patiently waits to be banded.

As Gerry takes care of the lobsters, Mark puts new bait in the traps, which is (relatively) fresh mackerel from a weir in Parrsboro. After the bait is set Mark helps with any lobsters remaining in the trap. Then the trap is shut and Mark waits as Gerry repositions the boat and gives him the signal to drop it overboard.

This whole process takes about two minutes, after which it's on to the next trap…

7:30 am

While we're steaming to some coastal lines, Mark has a few buckets of rotting bait to deal with. He separates it from the nylon bait bags and dumps the rotting bait into the water, which is just what the swarms of seagulls were waiting for. They seem to know exactly when to follow the boat, and gobble up the bait before it has a chance of sinking.

Mark hoses off the old bait bags in an attempt to get as much rotten fish off them as possible. Then he gets out the new bait and goes to work stuffing new bait into the old bags, which will be used during the next spurt of trap hauling.

I seize the chance and offer to help Mark with stuffing bait bags. I get my own pair of gloves and Mark tells me to put 4 or 5 fish in each bag, close it tight, and gives me a quick demonstration. I'm having fun, and enjoying the scenery of Cape Chignecto Provincial Park from a new perspective.

8:00 am

As we near the next few lines of traps, I stand by the banding station. Mark and Gerry go through their routine and I wait for them to put lobsters on the wooden tray. I measure and check some for eggs, and get a lesson in banding. There is a definite finesse to putting a small rubber band on large lobster claws that I don't have, but manage to wrestle them on and avoid being pinched.

9:00 am

We're steaming to yet another set of lines and round Cape Chignecto, where I can see the New Brunswick coast. Given the wind direction, it is much rougher on this side, and my stomach of steel is beginning to have doubts about its tolerance for the boat's movement.

Gerry is kind enough to offer me a Gravol, and sends me to the back of the boat into the fresh air, where Mark has made a seat for me. I am incredibly appreciative, but manage to only muster a weak smile. I look at my watch and cannot believe that I am trapped on this boat for another 8 hours…

While I sit on the sidelines fighting the drowsiness of the Gravol, Gerry and Mark are hard at work hauling trap after trap. They pull up a lobster that has shed its shell in the trap and call me over. A truly amazing feat of nature that a lobster can wriggle itself though only a single shell break down its back. I stare in awe and wonder how the huge claws get through the still intact elbow joints of their old shell…

11:00 am

I am joyous that there is Gravol in our world and I'm feeling great. Not great enough to help out just yet, but enough to watch Gerry and Mark haul traps from the cabin and take some photos. It's amazing what comes up in those traps besides lobster - sculpin, hermit crabs, seaweed, dogfish (northern sand sharks), and scallop weed (also known as lemon weed).

I ask about the lemon weed (scientifically, a leafy Bryozoan) and comment that I have never smelled the lemon scent it's reported to have. Gerry grabs a fistful, twists it around and holds it out for me to smell. Lemon Pledge is the first thing that comes to mind and I'm pleased to finally smell it. Then I realize that the only stuff I've found is on the beach, where it's been dried out and lost its scent. Gerry comments that this stuff makes the best pot scrubber around.

2:00 pm

Gerry asks if I want to steer the boat. I am a bit reluctant, but figure I should try as much as I can while I'm here. Now I'm not talking about steering in a straight line, but about steering while gaffing traps - two very different things.

To gaff a trap, you need to come at it against the tide so you can create some slack on the line. Otherwise, the gaff will be ripped from your hand. You have to come at the trap on its left side and swing around it at the last minute. This lets you create that slack and gets the buoy nice and close.

Usually the driver gaffs the trap, but I'm rather short so decide to only steer. I'm pleased that Gerry manages to gaff 4 out of the 5 traps that I steer to, and chalk it up to beginner's luck.

4:45 pm

I'm relieved to hear that we're finally heading for shore. We have to wait a few minutes for the tide to come in, so we join the two other boats that have slightly 'beached' themselves on a sand bar and wait for the tide to lift us off. Gerry and Mark talk to the crew on the other boats, comparing days and catching up. After a few minutes our boat is re-suspended and we head for the pier.

At the pier we load crates full of lobster onto Gerry's pickup truck and drive out to the weighing station. Gerry and one other lobster fishermen in Advocate sell to a particular buyer, so the three meet to weigh and sell their catches.

7:00 pm

Gerry drives me back to Parrsboro and I crawl out of the truck exhausted and reeking of bait. I'm told that we had an easy day (12 hours), only hauling about 200 traps or so, and am both thankful and amazed. Lobster fishing involves some pretty serious manual labour, and I can't imagine a day much harder than that.

I say my thanks, wave goodbye, and watch in admiration as Gerry pulls the truck away and heads back to Advocate for another day of fishing tomorrow. I am as tired as I ever was planting trees in my university days, and imagine that Gerry's love of the water is what energizes him during the season. Like tree planting, lobster fishing lets you work with and learn from the environment. In my view, there's no better way to earn a living.