The White Fleet & The Disenchanted Fleet

It was the tale of two worlds.

I came to listen to a engaging lecture on the Portuguese White Fleet.

This neutral country that plied the North Atlantic waters for over 500 years was commanded during World War II to paint their sailing vessels white to distinguish them from the enemy.

They came and fished our rich fishing banks with enthusiastic spirits, small wooden dories and ecological long lines.

They worked hard, were happy-go-lucky, caught plenty of fat Cod from one-man dories cast adrift from mother ship. They left their home and family in May and returned in September with a bounty of salted cod and a kinship with our people. 

These Portuguese fisher-folk and their white fleet are distinctly woven into our folk culture and history, particularly in St. John's which was often used as a safe harbour. 

These fishermen were revered - heroic figures.

And sitting next to me at The Rooms theatre tonight was a modern-day young fishermen.

He was there to learn a thing or two about the old ways of fishing he told the presenter.

Before the session began, he offered me a one-on-one engaging tale -like a man that wanted to get something off his chest.

As he spoke about his work, there was earnestness in his voice, a passion for his industry and salt was definitely in his blood. (He could have been in wild rose country he said, but he picked to be on the wild waters.)

But something wasn't adding up.
His million dollar entreprise was tied up at the wharf due to the current crab dispute.

The price of the species he and other fishermen wanted to harvest was too low.

Plus, he pointed out, rising bait and fuel costs, a disengaged government  and a dysfunctional fish price-setting panel were all casting a challenging net on his fishery.

"Something has got to change!" he stated emphatically.

"Our fishery needs to move with the times, but we have no leaders to get us there!"

I listened intently and I heard his cry.

And then the lecture for which I came commenced...

I listened to the glory days of our fishery, all the while remembering the disenchanted tale of the fisherman next to me.

Here he was - not so heroic perhaps (in the eyes of the public), facing uncertain times, a shortage of resource, wondering what the future holds and yet holding on tightly to a dream.

Before the lecture was over, I came to understand he didn't just come to be enlightened.

He came for a bit of hope.

Hope, that perhaps one day the modern-day fishery he was engaged in
would see better days.
like the fishery and the bounty enjoyed by the Portuguese
as their sailed their white fleet upon our same waters so many years ago...

Amen to "Better Days"!