Shrimp boat returns from fishing grounds with 'full load' of trash

Marine animals and debris are mixed together on the deck of the 607 Yeongjin-ho fishing vessel, which operated in the southern waters off Jeju from July 3 to 10. Korea Times photo by Yu Dae-geun

Indonesian sailor Suyandi, 41, struggling with the Korean language, shouted on July 6, "No, no! (thumb extended) The big ones go here. (pinky extended) The small ones go there," while gesturing with his right hand and wearing a slightly frustrated expression.

As a rookie crew member, this reporter from the Hankook Ilbo, 43, was still feeling intimidated after four days aboard the fishing vessel.

Even simple instructions, such as placing the smaller shrimp in the left plastic box and the larger ones in the right, were confusing, which understandably frustrated the more experienced sailors. When a southwesterly wind brushed past, the sailors' expressions turned grim. The hot and humid wind made the already grueling work under the scorching sun even more unbearable.

The 607 Yeongjin-ho was floating 68 kilometers southwest of Jeju Island, in the South Sea's golden fishing grounds, where nothing was supposed to escape the nets.

This journey began on the recommendation of an experienced Jeju fisherman. Han Cheol-nam, 62, the head of Shinsan-ri Fishing Village in Jeju Island's Seogwipo, spoke with a troubled expression to this reporter who had come to investigate the sea polluted with trash.

"Was our sea really so overrun with trash that it was beyond recovery? Was this not just fishermen complaining about their reduced income?" Despite enjoying seafood regularly, I had never really considered the conditions in which fish and other creatures lived before reaching our tables.

This prompted me to board a fishing vessel for an extended period to observe and assist with operations in the waters off Jeju, where a variety of marine species are caught.

After several rejections and a month of persistence, I finally secured a spot on the 138-ton bottom trawler Yeongjin-ho. Thus began a grueling seven-day, 166-hour fishing expedition in the middle of summer.

For the crew of the Yeongjin-ho, clearing debris caught in the nets is a daily routine. They removed items like a drum, left, and large plastic waste of unknown use. The nets also brought up tangled waste such as old fishing nets and a discarded air conditioner. Korea Times photo by Yu Dae-geun

Fearless veteran captain, but one thing terrifies him

Captain Kwak Woon-young, 63, of the Yeongjin-ho is a seafarer with little to fear. Born on Narodo, a remote island village of Goheung, South Jeolla Province, he first boarded a fishing boat in Busan in 1981.

For over 40 years, he has weathered countless life-threatening situations while hauling nets. He has fallen overboard and been rescued five or six times while working at sea. There is only one thing that truly scares him: "Biggest fear is not catching any fish."

On the Yeongjin-ho, Captain Kwak is joined by a crew of eight. A poor catch threatens not only their livelihoods but also the well-being of their families.

Kwak, who met his wife during a time when people gossiped about not marrying off daughters to fishermen due to the dangerous nature of the job, has raised two children.

Fishing is the only trade he is truly skilled at, making this particular voyage all the more critical. July marks the end of the fishing season, a time to wrap up for the year.

The main marine species caught by the Yeongjin-ho in the southern waters off Jeju are, from left, ridgeback shrimp, which is profitable in summer due to high prices; conger eel, a species frequently hauled in with every catch; and croaker, typically in season during winter but occasionally caught in summer as well. Korea Times photo by Yu Dae-geun

Since October of the previous year, the Yeongjin-ho had been operating nonstop in the distant waters off Jeju, and after 10 months, the fishing season was coming to an end. Reflecting on the past year, Captain Kwak acknowledged it has been tough.

Adding to the challenges, the costs of operating the vessel have soared in recent years. The Yeongjin-ho's owner, Kim Ik-soo, 66, said that "fishermen are being crushed by quadruple hardships," referring to high fuel costs, reduced catch volumes, rising interest rates and stagnant seafood prices.

Indeed, duty free diesel prices have skyrocketed since Russia began its invasion of Ukraine more than two years ago. Meanwhile, the interest rates on loans taken out by boat owners to pay for the vessels have also risen sharply.

In contrast, the price of croakers, which was 300,000 won ($225) per 25-kilogram box a decade ago, has now plummeted to 150,000 won, according to Kim. Many fisheries businesses are collapsing under the pressure.

With all these adversities, the only thing the fishermen can do is try to catch more. On the morning of July 3, the Yeongjin-ho set sail from Hwasun Port in Seogwipo with the faint hope of a full catch.

Even this reporter, whose only fishing experience was at a winter smelt festival, submitted a health certificate to the Coast Guard and boarded as an official crew member.

A photo mosaic was created using images of debris caught in the nets during fishing operations, forming the shape of a fish. Upon closer inspection, the mosaic reveals trash discarded in the ocean. Korea Times photo by Yu Dae-geun

First day's catch: onslaught of trash

"Three knots..." Captain Kwak murmured as he looked at the fishfinder monitor in the wheelhouse. Nine hours had passed since the ship had set sail. The ship's speed had dropped from four knots, indicating that the nets, which had been cast into the sea five hours earlier, were full.

The captain, sensing something, pressed the red buzzer next to the helm with a stern expression. The operation bell blared in the crew quarters on the first floor.

The three Korean crew members and five Indonesians, who had been resting in their small, coffin-like 1.9-square-meter rooms, quickly donned their work overalls and white rubber boots before heading out on deck.

Still queasy from seasickness and having vomited twice on an empty stomach, I followed dully behind them.

Captain Kwak Woon-young / Korea Times

On the deck, the winch was already hard at work, pulling up the nets with a dull roar. After about 10 minutes, the bulging net bag began to appear at the stern. Expectations of fish and plump shrimp quickly vanished as a pile of trash spilled out. A few fish and crustaceans were buried beneath the debris.

The trash was varied — worn-out fishing nets discarded by fishermen, 20-liter oil cans, instant noodle packaging, instant coffee wrappers, beverage cans, 1.5-liter water bottles, plastic bags — mostly plastic products that had sunk to the seabed.

If not caught in the nets, these items would have remained in the deep sea for hundreds of years, slowly breaking down and likely being consumed by unsuspecting fish.

The reality witnessed by the novice crew member was far harsher than imagined. The foreign crew members began sorting the fish from the trash.

The sea was in shambles, yet the only one shocked on the boat was me. For the crew, this was a familiar sight. They silently went about their work, first cutting the tangled nets with sharp knives and placing the pieces into 200-liter sacks.

Large debris like cans was removed by hand, while smaller trash was scraped up with a three-pronged rake and pushed to the edge of the deck. After clearing out the "unwelcome guests" of the sea, such as seaweed from China, silt, inedible jellyfish and bycatch, there was little left.

The meager catch consisted of three boxes of red shrimp, seven boxes of conger eel and a few croakers, octopus and other small fish. It was a poor haul compared to the effort of the 10 crew members who had labored for over two hours on the rocking deck.

Even after crunching the numbers, the results were disappointing. The fuel cost for the five-hour journey was 1 million won, while the fish caught were worth only 2 million won. After factoring in labor, insurance for the vessel and crew and other expenses, the operation was a loss.

In addition, four 200-liter sacks were filled with trash weighing around 100 kilograms to 120 kilograms. This area had been cleaned just a few months ago by a 300-ton garbage collection ship, meaning it was relatively clean compared to other areas.

After finishing the work, the ship's first mate, Hong Soon-ki, 42, who had been smoking a cigarette with a look of frustration, asked, "What on earth are we supposed to do about this?"

Debris of Chinese origin caught in the nets during fishing operations, suspected to have been discarded by Chinese vessels. Korea Times photo by Yu Dae-geun

Trapped by fishermen's own nets

This sea was once clear, before humans ruined it. The waters between Marado and Ieodo, the southernmost land of Korea, were rich in nutrients, forming a dense ecosystem, from plankton to sharks. As a result, yellow croakers and other fish would migrate north to spawn but could never forget this pristine environment and would return.

Chinese fishing boats would also salivate at the thought of crossing over to these fishing grounds whenever they had the chance.

Captain Kwak said, "After summer passes and the weather cools, the Korean fishing boats, along with Chinese trawlers, gillnetters and pair trawlers, will swarm in, leaving no room for anyone else to fish."

He recalled that the golden fishing grounds had deteriorated rapidly about five or six years ago. When the waters around Jeju experienced an abundance of yellow croakers, the number of gillnet fishing boats increased dramatically.

These gillnetters would spread over 16 kilometers of nets in the sea at a time, waiting for the schools of fish. While spreading more than 2 to 3 kilometers of nets is illegal, an even bigger problem is that many of these boats would simply dump their used nets into the sea.

As a result, 90 percent of the marine debris found in the southern seas of Jeju consists of discarded fishing gear such as gillnets. Since the large-scale importation of cheap nets from China and Vietnam, fishermen have begun treating their nets as disposable.

According to an unpublished report by the Ministry of Oceans and Fisheries, coastal gillnet fishing boats discard approximately 14,424 tons of marine debris annually, a figure comparable to the total weight of yellow croakers caught in Korean waters last year.

The Yeongjin-ho, after completing eight days of fishing, returns to Hallim Port on Jeju Island on July 10. The vessel, which set sail with hopes of a full catch, came back loaded with garbage. Courtesy of Captain Kwak Woon-young

This article from the Hankook Ilbo, a sister publication of The Korea Times, is translated by a generative AI and edited by staff of The Korea Times.