Saving Seafood

Mental Health and the Modern Fisherman

March 18, 2021 — In 2005, Randy Cushman spent two days trolling through the Gulf of Maine, searching for Gary Thorbjornson’s body. Thorbjornson was family—not by blood, but in all the ways that really count. The men had grown up together, fishing the gulf’s waters since they were kids, and the intervening decades had sculpted their lives into similar shapes: careers in commercial fishing, marriages at about the same time, children of about the same age, and a tight-knit fishing community around Port Clyde, Maine.

While fishing on a foggy day in mid-July, the distress call came through: Thorbjornson’s boat was flooding, and the crew were panicking. “We have to get the fuck off this boat,” Thorbjornson yelled. By the time Cushman arrived, the crew, including Thorbjornson’s own son, were alive and safely aboard a rescue boat, but their fishing vessel was at the bottom of the ocean and Thorbjornson had vanished. The search began, hours lapsing into days as teams traversed the waters, looking for a body that might offer the Thorbjornson family a scrap of closure.

“His father called me, told me to stay,” Cushman says. “The coast guard gave up and then the other boats. I stayed like four to six hours longer and I called him back and said, ‘I can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me.’”

In Brunswick, Maine, 90 minutes west of Port Clyde, Monique Coombs has watched this silent stoicism play out over and over again in fishing communities. Coombs is the director of community programs for the Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association (MCFA), a nonprofit trade group dedicated to restoring commercial fishing in the Gulf of Maine. She’s seen fishermen just like Cushman endure the pain of lost loved ones, life-changing injuries, economic hardships, and the barrage of stresses endemic to the commercial fishing industry without seeking help, and she’s seen the legacy of depression and substance abuse that often follows. These problems have gotten worse, she says, ever since COVID-19 disrupted the state’s US $674-million seafood industry, shoving already unstable families even closer to financial collapse. But Coombs has a plan to fight back. Just over one year ago, her team won a grant to launch a pilot program aimed at addressing mental health in commercial fishing communities. The grant, awarded by the Fisher Charitable Foundation, is small—only $5,000, all of which goes to producing informational materials on managing anxiety and depression. But Coombs has much bigger ambitions.

Read the full story at Hakai Magazine

Fishermen have mixed thoughts on increased groundfish monitoring

September 28, 2020 — After returning home for a hot meal and quick snooze following three days alone at sea, Randy Cushman wakes up at 3:30 a.m. to begin the final steps of his fish and data processing in the sleepy, pine-lined fishing village of Port Clyde.

Cushman took his first two-day groundfishing trip out of this harbor with his father when he was five years old. Now, over 40 years later, Cushman counts and prepares fish all morning with his wife — who is also his business partner — to get hundreds of pounds of fish ready for local markets.

Once the fish are sorted, Cushman’s final step is to mail a hard drive containing video of what he caught and discarded during his trip for review. Cushman’s 50-foot boat — the Ella Christine — was one of the three Maine vessels that six years ago spearheaded what’s been the longest electronic monitoring project in New England.

The project, designed to prevent overfishing in the region’s waters, includes more than 30 boats across New England. It was born from a collaboration between the Maine Coast Fishermen’s Association, The Nature Conservancy, the Gulf of Maine Research Institute and Ecotrust Canada. It allows fishermen to use cameras strapped to their ships to track landings and discards, instead of human observers.

Read the full story at the Penobscot Bay Pilot

Boston Globe: What’s fair in breaking up Carlos Rafael’s empire?

December 18, 2017 — Randy Cushman, a fourth generation fisherman in Maine, knows what the crimes of Carlos Rafael cost him.

Cushman fishes out of the bucolic village of Port Clyde, population 307, the sort of place many New Englanders might still associate with the region’s storied, struggling fishing industry. Last season, he had to pay $49,000 for fishing quota, most of it for American plaice, a species of groundfish commonly known as dabs. Cushman’s own allowance on the fish ran out after only four days on the water, forcing him to bargain with other fishermen for more.

Up the coast, Rafael had been catching dabs in the Gulf of Maine too. But in an elaborate criminal scheme, the New Bedford fishing tycoon, owner of about 40 vessels, was directing his captains to report dabs as other kinds of fish, often haddock, which is subject to much higher limits. Breaking the rules let Rafael evade the kind of payments that Cushman made. It also depressed prices by flooding the market with black-market fish. Worst of all, the scheme also meant fishing regulators were getting inaccurate information about how many fish Rafael’s empire was scooping out of the Atlantic, bad data that fishermen suspect distorted how scientists analyzed ocean trends, and Cushman believes skewed the way regulators set the amount each fishermen can catch before having to start paying.

“He definitely hurt my business,” Cushman said. Bottom line: “I should have ended up with more allocation on dabs,” he said.

Rafael, whose downfall came after he boasted of his scheme to undercover IRS agents posing as Russian mobsters, is now serving a 46-month sentence in federal prison. The made-for-TV story, complete with an illicit cash buyer in New York, bank accounts in Portugal, allegations of corrupt sheriff deputies, and broad hints that other players on the waterfront must have been in the know, has transfixed New England’s close-knit fishery. Rafael’s arrest has thrust arcane fisheries policies into the spotlight, touched off a political battle between Massachusetts and Maine about the future of his businesses, and raised questions about how fishing regulators can provide justice for his victims and prevent a scheme like his from infecting the fishery again. The feds have already seized some of his permits and four of his boats, but more punishments are widely expected. A spokeswoman for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Jennifer Goebel, said the regulatory agency was considering further sanctions against Rafael but that “it’s longstanding NOAA policy not to discuss pending enforcement matters.”

Read the full editorial at the Boston Globe

Fishermen look to replace human monitors with cameras

April 4, 2016 — The program, slated to begin next month, will include about 20 boats, roughly 10 percent of the region’s active groundfishing fleet, and will require fishermen to use sophisticated software, maintain cameras through the harsh conditions at sea, and submit to constant electronic scrutiny.

That has made some fishermen, who say their boats are like homes, uneasy.

They worry about losing their privacy and whether the footage could become public.

“Our bathrooms are buckets out on deck. I do not want some person counting how much toilet paper I use when I go to the head,” said David Goethel, who fishes cod out of Hampton, N.H.

Goethel sued NOAA last year for requiring fishermen to assume the costs of the observer program, which he said were too expensive and would put many of his colleagues out of business. The agency had previously covered the costs, but officials said they could no longer afford to subsidize the $3 million program.

See the full story at the Boston Globe