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More ice talk
The chill is taking its toll on the crew. The greenie, a young twenty year old, has been let go. We don't need five hands to bang on ice. So we're down to four; and if the weather keeps on, we might be down to none. Lay up until something changes. Make a few transit trips offshore on one of the good old dragger boats--ethical or not, we all have bills to pay.
Ice is insidious. I'm tired and sore.
Another day, another dollar.
Been fourteen hours on snowshoes, and wish I had a pie.
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