Mike Rowe — he's filthy and fearless! As we watch Mike wade through bat poop or stick his arm up places limbs just don't belong, most of us can't help but think, "Ugh. I wonder what's the grossest thing he's ever done?"
And of course, there's the inevitable, "Huh. What wouldn't this guy do?"
QUESTION: There is a fish processing vessel on fire out of Dutch Harbor, called the Pacific Glacier. That is a different name than the vessel Mike is on. I guess other boats in the area have taken on crew members and also helped to fight the fire. Wonder if Mike is involved in any of this? They may be getting some great video!! -- onthecrab
ANSWER: We were on The Legacy, maybe 10 miles south of the fishing vessel Pacific Glacier when the alarm went out. By the time we got there, five other vessels had arrived, and things were chaotic. Black smoke was billowing from the wheelhouse and the deck just below it. Men in skiffs were circling the boat, trying to get additional supplies on-board. When the order to abandon ship was given, a small boat called American Beauty pulled up alongside the Pacific Glacier, and helped people get into additional skiffs that were being deployed with every passing minute. Our ship, along with several others, provided additional air canisters and drinking water for the men who remained behind to fight the fire. It was really rather incredible to see. A fire at sea is about the worst thing that can happen on a ship, and this was a big ship. Over 270 feet long, with 106 people aboard. The possibility for disaster was extraordinary.
Within 45 minutes of her call, a dozen ships had surrounded the PG, including ours, and were fully focused on doing whatever could be done to assist. Those closest provided air canisters, de-watering pumps, and deck hands to help fight the fire. I stood in the wheelhouse with the captain, the owner, and my crew, and watched as 86 people were ferried to safety. Incredible.
When the Coast Guard C-130 arrived and dropped additional supplies, darkness was settling in. Most of people were out of harm's way, save for those who stayed behind to fight the fire. When the captain was satisfied we had done all we could, we turned around and got back to fishing.
The sunset was amazing last night, and the seas were calm, with light winds and a temperature of maybe 20 degrees F. It was cold, but the stars were out, strange up here for this time of year. From what I've read, the conditions were not too different than those present when the Titanic went down. If it hadn't been for the looming crisis, the evening would have been memorable for its unusual calm and weird beauty. Instead, I'll remember it for the remarkable display of concern and cooperation demonstrated by every captain within 15 square miles.
Tonight, thanks to their action, the people aboard the F/V Pacific Glacier are having a drink with us, here in a little bar called Cape Cheerful in The Grand Aleutian Hotel.
Isn't it nice when bars live up to their name?