red

the reds came in the other day.  only about 4700 pounds.  they scoffed at that.  they want to hear 70,000 or 100.  it was exactly what people think of when they imagine themselves in alaska working in a cannery. but again, you call it a plant. 

fish guts everywhere.  i mean everywhere.  guts.  and roe.  all over the place.  there is a huge machine that takes the heads off and guts them.  they come through a chute one by one as if they were swimming in the water.  they spill out onto a conveyor belt with no heads and their bellies split open, showing the fillets.  tails in tact. 

most of the reds we had were probably about 15 to 25 pounds.  i was right at the opening of the chute.  i could see them coming through the thing.  they come through like cars at an automatic car wash.  there is a hose at the chut that runs clean water down the line.  there are probably about 10 to 12 people on the line.  most inexperienced at the beginning.  the fish get cleaned more specialized as they go down the line.  eventually they get packed in totes with varying levels of ice.  each tote, with ice and fish weighs roughly 1000 pounds. 

i was using a tool that was essentially a knife with a spoon on the other end.  mostly you use the spoon to scrape out remaining guts the machine did not get.  no fish comes out perfectly clean.  sometimes i need to use my knife to cut stuff out.  but i was instructed to only do one scoop with the spoon.  and very specifically to not cut into the fillet. 

down the line they have a spoon scooper thing that is attached to a hose that spits clean water.  as they scoop out more stuff, they're cleaning as well with the hose. 

everyone is wearing hairnets and beard nets.  and masks on our faces.  remarkably it does not smell bad.  not at all.  the next day does though.  i think it's the drains underneath.  but to look at the place you would think you're in some industrial kitchen or something.  all stainless steel.  the clean up after we process the fish is intense.  huge hoses that throw soap, like a car wash, but way more like fire hoses.  people everywhere with brooms and squeegies.  green scrubby pads all over the place.  everyone wearing rain gear.  stood in a puddle of fish guts and blood about a foot deep because the drain stopped up.  people all bent over pulling bits of carcass out of the drain. 

they love it.  they can't wait to get to it.  they want more.  the plant has huge bay doors on both ends.  forklifts going this way and that, carrying totes. and they leave them open.  so at anytime you could look out to see the sunlight.  it's very energizing.  not like being in walmart or something.  where it looks the same all day, all night.  it's nice to be able to look out the bay door, and see some birds, or some trucks rolling by.  whatever.  you never get removed from the fact that there is a world going on.  or that you're in alaska, and not wherever, wherever.  not that there's anything wrong with wherever, wherever.  but it's not the fucking Kenai Peninsula on the summer solstice.  that's for sure.