The fishing vessel Ellie IV, captained by the fearless Johnse Ostman (lead guitarist for Crabgrass), has a reputation among the fleet for blasting loud music via speakers on deck during all waking hours. From punk to funk, country to blues, hippie jams and hair bands, the crew is bombarded by tasty licks all summer long.

This serves to saturate the thirsty mind with all manner of ideas for riffs and songs, many of which will probably pop out in my playing later on without realizing it. It's like a sabbatical (hopefully paid leave if the fish cooperate) to travel abroad and study up on where I'd like to go musically. In a land where seasonal work is a common way of life, I'm sure I'm not alone in my love-hate relationship with an enforced break from playing music.

One way I have found to ease up on the withdrawal symptoms was to learn how to play harmonica, which I started playing as a result of a seafaring life. I pack a dozen of them around, and they're smaller than a mandolin.

There I go again bragging about the size of my instrument.

Many companies make quality "baby" guitars as well. I've had a Baby Taylor on board for a couple of years, and it's an awesome thing to have on the rare occasion I get an hour or two to play some tunes on board. It tucks away nice at the foot of my bunk, and it's not so over-the-top expensive that I cringe every time I whack it on a bulkhead or drool beer on it. Oh, and it sounds good, too. How 'bout that?

But back to the blaring music on deck: I am a huge fan of public radio in Juneau, but I've got to admit it's nice to take a break from that, too. With a giant horde of volunteer DJs, there are bound to be some super stinkers in there, and I'm probably one of them.

Although limited to the options that two mega-companies offer for a small fee, there is a lot of stuff on satellite radio and some of it is actually really good. You'd be surprised to find out what two sleep-deprived, caffeine-whacked hillbilly fisherman will rock out on when given three months to channel surf. When you start hearing bluegrass covers of "The Fat Boys are Back (And You Know They Will Never Be Whack)" and "TV Party" down at the bar, you'll know where the inspiration came from.

So as I sit here at anchor in Hoktaheen Cove, I look forward to my summer penance. Through the sore back and cold fingers, through the hallucinogenic properties of sleep deprivation and an empty stomach, I will still hear the music in my head (and out on deck) like an ongoing soundtrack to my own personal movie.

• Sean Tracey is an arthritic guitar player with a nasty harmonica habit. He checks e-mail between fishing trips via crabgrassalaska@gmail.com