Hitching a ride on the Frances, a sardine fishing boat, then paddling 19 NM home in the morning.

Unfortunately I didn't have my camera out at moonless 2am when I woke from my nap on the plywood pilothouse roof to see them raising a hockey-rink size net beneath us suspeneded at the edges from eight long bamboo poles, then concentrating the fish into a dense silver swarm more fish than water, into which a guy with goggles disappeared, diving under the boiling silver soup with a thing like a hammock which guys on deck hauled up full of fish. They spilled the quietly applauding fish on the deck while other guys mopped them into the open hatches, below in the low narrow hold a kid who fit through the hatches crawled around piling them against the hull.