'We are the last of the hunters'

By Chris Mason BBC News

Fishermen say prospects in their industry are gloomy

Next down the ladder is Les Wale, a fisherman for nearly 40 years.

His toothy grin and effervescent spirit have landed him roles as an extra in TV shows like Heartbeat - moonlighting is increasingly necessary when the day job is as financially perilous as this.

Also on board are two Filipino men, Freddie Fabregas, 48, and 28-year-old Raymond Blalais.

Prospects in the fishing industry are so gloomy, Mr Veart tells me, no local lads are interested any more.

It is the livelihoods of such men that will be affected by the current talks between EU fisheries ministers on the quantities of fish which can be caught from Europe's seas in 2009.

As we head out to sea at a steady five miles an hour, we each clutch mugs of steaming tea as a biting easterly breeze blows in our faces.

Fishing for generations

"We're the last of the hunters. I think there's us and the Eskimos. They go for seals, we go for fish," Mr Wale, 54, tells me.

"I learnt off my father, he learnt off his father, and he learnt off his father and I suppose he learnt off his father. We go back at least five generations in fishing in our family."

But Les Wale will be last in that long family line. He has told his two sons, William, 31, and Lee, 18, not to bother.

"I would have loved one of them to go fishing. Loved it. It's in the blood. But the industry's dying here. If my young lad ever mentioned going fishing to me, I'd whack him around the lughole."

Skipper Steven Veart fears regulation will drive him out of business

A little over a metre away from where I chat to Mr Wale in the boat's small kitchen, the skipper, Mr Veart, 46, is in the wheelhouse, piloting the Defiant.

A multicoloured flat screen GPS and satellite navigation system beeps and flashes to his left; to the right the familiar voice of Jeremy Kyle can be heard emerging from a small TV set - the picture flickering on and off as the aerial struggles to pick up a signal.

Suddenly, the skipper is out of his seat. Shimmying down a wooden ladder to the sleeping quarters, he wakes his two workers, Mr Fabregas and Mr Blalais.

They emerge, overalls, gloves and hats on, and we're all standing at the back of the boat. The success or otherwise of this morning's mission will be judged in the next few minutes.

Dumping fish

The green nets haul out a predominantly orange catch - prawns. But in amongst them are cod.

Because of quota restrictions, the crew are legally obliged to throw these fish back out to sea - dead or alive. The crew are quite clearly genuinely angry, and not just for the benefit of the two journalists on board.

"The amount of fish we are having to dump here is just absolutely outrageous. You've got half the world starving to death and we're chucking good food over the side," Mr Veart shouts, above the engine noise, as he throws a large, dead cod into a bucket in frustration.

"We have to throw them back by law - it makes me cry, I feel sick," Mr Wale adds.

"It is good fish - someone could eat it, people in the Third World, old age pensioners, anyone. But we have to throw it back and let the seagulls eat it."

As the catch is gutted, cleaned and boxed up, the crew survey their haul. It's a bleak assessment. They won't cover their costs today.

Prawns were the main haul, and any cod was returned to the sea

The Defiant slowly turns. It's now mid-afternoon and it's already beginning to get dark. Up on the foredeck, in front of the wheelhouse, I can see the distant, flickering lights of the industrial Teesside landscape.

The negotiations taking place in Brussels to fix the fishing quotas for 2009 present ministers and officials with an unenviable challenge: trying to balance the needs of a rapidly shrinking industry with what environmentalists fear is a rapidly shrinking stock of fish.

There is a widespread acceptance, even within the fishing industry, that some quotas are necessary.

And with quotas come limits to what can be caught. And with those limits comes the prospect of throwing fish back when they are exceeded.

Setting the right quotas, for the right fish, in the right place requires an answer to just one question. How many fish are there here?

The answer, of course, is it's impossible to tell precisely. And all those who claim to have some idea, whether they are scientists, environmentalists or fishermen, very rarely manage to agree.

At approaching half past seven, we reach Hartlepool - and the day's catch is dropped off and sold.

For Steven Veart, Les Wale, Freddie Fabregas and Raymond Blalais, it's a chance for a few hours sleep before they set off again at four o'clock tomorrow morning.

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