Written by Maisie McNaughton, a deckhand on a lobster fishing vessel in Aldouane, N.B., this First Person column shares her thrilling experience battling rough seas. For more captivating narratives like this, explore the FAQ.
A powerful sou’easter intensified, causing choppy, short waves. Amidst the turbulence, my mom, known for her humor, quipped, “Drive ‘er like you stole ‘er!”
We maintained speed to stabilize the lobster boat, skimming over the turbulent waves. Despite the unease, I chuckled nervously, grateful that we decided to cut our fishing trip short, navigating through tumultuous whitecaps.
Seated at the lunch table, a usual spot for shared meals, everything seemed relatively fine until we made a starboard turn at a convergence point of two currents, unexpectedly jolting us port side.
“Hang on!” my mom’s urgent voice echoed, as I clung tightly to a metal pole running through the table. The boat lurched sideways, lifting my feet off the floor, and my stomach seemed to leap into my throat. Looking at my mom against the backdrop of the ocean, her feet braced as she gripped the steering wheel to prevent capsizing, I felt the boat’s underbelly threatening to tip over. With white-knuckled determination, she steered us back on course.
Thankfully, we navigated from the Northumberland Strait to the calmer Richibucto River, laughing in relief, a bond forged by surviving the ordeal together.
Later, we discovered a boat had sunk just five kilometers south of our location. In our close-knit community, news traveled fast, bringing relief as we learned the crew was rescued by another vessel. Yet, a lingering unease remains when I recall that day.
Venturing onto the ocean demands courage.
By that measure, our family embodies resilience, with an inherent connection to the sea. My brother serves as a deckhand on a container ship, and my mother, Debbie Thompson, a trailblazer, was among the first female lobster captains in New Brunswick, boasting 24 seasons of experience. For the past five years, I have followed in her footsteps as a deckhand on her fishing boat.
Being a woman in a predominantly male industry has felt natural, thanks to my mother’s pioneering efforts.
When she acquired her first boat in 2000, female captains were uncommon. Even in 2023, the province only counts 33 female captains, a mere three percent of the total. Despite prevailing superstitions like “Bad luck to have a woman on a boat,” Mom persevered and purchased her first vessel, The Toy.
Twenty years on, I felt the same calling to the sea that resonated within my mother’s soul,