The boats bob, coated in the morning damp, lowly creaking against half-hearted lines. Golden pools of sunshine leak across decks and piers and asphalt, mixing with the dew and car oil sluicing along the drainage channels. With a throaty yawn of a forklift's diesel engine, another day on Pier 38 blinks it's bleary eyes awake.
Only a small portion of Hawaii's 147 boat fishing fleet is stirring this morning. Boat skippers, transient crew and regulators bustle about; on neatly ordered decks, low clouds of mist creep from refrigerated compartments and stolid cranes take their place to offload the ship's catch.
Shouts, rattles, clanks, and the wet thump of slightly thawed fish echo off metal gangplanks and fiberglass hulls. Grizzled fishermen wield boat hooks and claw hooks with urgent dexterity as flocks of eager seagulls scan the decks for offal.
Two weeks. Three weeks. A month at sea. Long line fishermen, fueled by drams of black coffee, canned food and snatches of sleep. Three thousand hooks to be baited, laid, retrieved and repeated. Yellowfin Tuna thrash powerful tails, blood red Ono gasp vainly, all quickly spiked, stored and frozen in the oily belly as the ship belches against a star sprinkled sky.
On the docks, creeping beneath plastic guards breaths the auction room. You can feel the atmosphere assault the senses; first the oozing cold drifting along slick sanitized concrete, the smell of fish and sea and ocean things, a dull buzz rumbles along the wet floors.
As the plastic curtains spread, the auction floor unfurls in rows of glistening catch. Silver tuna and patches of crimson samples dapple white heaps of ice.
Buyers, clad in winter wear and heavy boots stalk the aisles. Each meat sample is scrutinized for fat, grease, oxidation and color. The stakes are high. Restaurants from as far away as New York pay large sums of money for only the choicest cuts to satisfy a newfound lust for sushi.
A small crowd creeps along each line of fish as the auctioneer inexorably raises the prices in ten cent increments. Buyers bid with almost imperceptible motions, phones and headsets receiving instructions from their employers afar, eyes darting, judging, calculating amidst all the drama and stakes of a Sotheby's auction house.
As the auction pack moves on, each purchased fish is tagged, barcoded, and packed away for immediate shipping. Each loaded forklift negotiates the busy docks as fishing crews prepare for another venture. The sun is high now, the satiated gulls have perched on the rocking masts. Lines have been coiled, hooks have been sharpened and decks have been scrubbed. The future holds the promise of another catch and provisions must be loaded.
...but that can wait until Monday.