I stank too. My pants were smudged with fish guts, my shoes caked in ripe chum. But as much as I wanted to wash away the accumulated filth during some of these trips, bathing was less inviting because it entailed standing fully exposed on the back deck and pouring a bucket of seawater over myself. The most intensive fishing happened at night, filling the back deck with tackle and busy men. That meant broad daylight was usually the only option for using the deck to bathe.
