|While derby fishing is a thing of the past, Deadliest Catch has introduced a new kind of competition, and the spoils of instant celebrity. One afternoon I was granted an audience with the biggest star of the Deadliest Catch, Sig Hansen, the 40 year old caption of a boat called the Northwestern and a man who's e-mail box deluged by female fans. When I met him Hansen was pulling the Northwestern out of the harbor for a little voyage concocted simply for a photo shoot purposes. The producers wanted some B-roll, so now a helicopter hovers above us, it's props kick up the black skin of the water.

"Sig" said the producer from inside the helicopter, his voice vaguely godlike as it came down from above. "sig can you stick your head out the window and look at the water a bit?"
Caption Sig did as instructed. He was smiling at the cameraman(who were not only above us but beside us, too in a small dingy that rattled and bounced on the waves), and his cool aqua eyes and leonine blond mane made it easy to grasp his heartthrob status. But up close he isn't the scruffy, unshaven hunk we see on TV: Hansen's hair is thinning a bit, his skin is somewhat pasty, and while he isn't exactly fat, it's clear that his exercise regime involve a lot of sitting around the wheel house, smoking camels. He wore a wrinkled hawaiian shirt, the collar open to reveal a gold necklace, and he seemed keenly cognizant that the circling camera crews held the power to shape his celebrity future. "like this?" he asked the voice above. "Is the good?"
"Yeah, good. but Bill," the producer said, meaning me, "can you get out of the shot?"
I dropped to floor. Beside me, also crouching was Lisa Tanzer, another producer, who was dressed with nautical panache in a black watch cap, orange Grundens foul weather pants with suspenders, and a pair of those high dull-green xtratuf deck boots that fishermen wear to keep slime off there toes. Though I had given her some Dramamine, Tanzer had already paid a visit to the Northwestern' small lavatory, which is decorated in a bright medley of photos from High Society magazine. Now she said little
Sig Hansen

Sig and Tanszer in the Northwestern wheelhouse.

Hasen needed no encouragement keep talking. "I have people stopping me on the street "he said as his boat steered ,on autopilot. "They recognize me just seeing my back. We have a fan base, and yeah there's has been some opportunities."
Merchandising opportunities, for one thing. On the Northwestern' website, mouse-pads go for $13.99, SHUT UP AND FISH!! Golf shirts for $26.99, and women who aspire to be "Hansennettes" can snap up thong panties emblazoned with " I'M A SIG GIRL for $10.99. "I was a keynote speaker at a fisherman's conference last year, and me and my wife, we got asked to the Hooters convention in Las Vegas," Hansen told me,"and I missed being a judge for the swim suit competition."
"Was that hard for you?" I asked, still down on the floor with the seasick producer.
"Yeah" Hansen said glumly. "That was kind of a bummer."

|||||SIG HANSEN"S BIGGEST RIVAL ON THE DEADLIEST CATCH in none other than Jonathan Hillstrand, of the Time Bandit, which he owns with his brothers. Now 44 years old, Hillstrand is broad boned, with scraggly long hair, a full goatee, and a hooligan's smirk. Hillstrand usually wears a black leather USA jacket in the wheelhouse, with a black baseball cap and turned backwards and white snake skin cowboy boots, he is not shy about expressing his opinions, especially those pertaining to Hasen, who deems "a pretty boy."

"Sig is a dumb-ass," Hillstand told me as he polished off one more shot of Crown Royal after another in a cramped bar called Latitudes. "If I hit him,his grandchildren would be stupid."
AS a captain, Hillstrand enjoys near-Ahablike omnipotence, as well as responsibility. "Being a captain is almost like being above the law." he told me. "I could kill 5 people by fucking up ocean and then just go get five more guys. If you kill five guys on land, with a car, you'd get manslaughter at least."
With vague coherency he began describing the troubles he's had over the years with his help. "I've beat up a few crew members," he said. "It's not good thing, the lawsuits and shit, but one time I beat up some guys guys on my crew. One of them brought so booze onboard, and he was urinating in the state room. Then {after some fist a cuffs} the whole crew tried to mutiny, so I just took-'em to town, and told em, "Well motherfuckers, if you think your gonna sue, shut the fuck up, because I am going to beat your ass." I was pretty fuck-en pissed."

I ordered a beer and Hillstand began admiring our lithe young bartender. " she's smoking" He said , his face alight with an impersh grin, and so he devised a romantic game plan that entailed lofting quarters toward he cleavage. The strategy did not prove affective, and Hillstrand eventually ricocheted toward me and began telling riddles. "Why did Hellen Keller masturbate with only one hand" he asked with out waiting for an answer. "So she could moan with the other one."
He downed one last shot, then abruptly shifted gears. "Twenty drinks is my limit," Hillstand said. "I'm drunk. I'm am drunker than twenty indians. I'm going home."