No burly, tattooed Popeye-esque fishermen here. But with 75 men and seven women on board, being a part of a minority meant working that much harder to earn respect and a sexual untouchablility. The women on board were strong, adding bite to their lingo to neutralize young male hormones. Despite tales promising huge fish fortunes, hake season is the least profitable time to work a factory trawler. If you happened to be Norwegian or hold glorious positions like deckhand, combi's, gallery or housekeeper, however, your take was considerably higher.
Processors stand facing a conveyor belt with metal slots.
Hake, shark, salmon and mackerel pour down from another belt above you. Water sprays out of pressure holes, conveniently misting your face. Deciphering worm-infested fish from the healthy ones was not instructed and is only slightly supervised, leaving quality control to luck and available common sense. The decapitating blades are loud and have an underlying beat. Dancing amid the machinery, though, is not appropriate.