At Premier Catch, we have the privilege of working with some of the most dedicated and inspiring people in the world—fishermen and women who put everything on the line to bring wild, sustainable seafood to your table.
This story comes from one of those people—Molly Ekstrom, a lifelong commercial fisherwoman, new mother, and passionate advocate for the ocean and her family’s legacy. Her words offer a rare and powerful glimpse into what it truly means to live this life: the sacrifices made, the generations it spans, and the deep connection to the sea that shapes it all.
We’re honored to share her voice.
"Tonight, my husband left for the first trip of the 2025 season. This is a year of “new” for us; new season, new boat, new crew, and biggest of all new baby. My husband and I welcomed a baby girl in mid-January, our first. Like so many fishermen, my husband is now having to leave us at home while he goes off to make a living. We aren’t sure when we will see him next, it could be just over a week from now, or 3 weeks from now. We hope it won’t be the latter.
When I first began writing this piece, I was sitting on a plane flying out of Dutch Harbor headed for a prenatal appointment in Anchorage. I was by myself. At 7 months pregnant, I had just completed the portion of the fishing season my doctor had said was safe to do on board the longliner my husband and I ran. He was remaining behind to continue fishing until the end of the season.
I struggled with the wording for months, the days passed, then the weeks, then the months. Soon we had a newborn and finalized a deal on a new boat. Still, I struggled with the wording. How do you sum up your livelihood and experiences that are so foreign to most people in the world? The world of commercial fishing is a small one, and often a hard one for outsiders to understand.Why do we fish? What purpose do we fish for? Why do we do a job that is often physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting? Why do we do a job that keeps us from our families?
These are all questions we get asked (and sometimes ask ourselves), and the answer is a complex one, even for us to explain.For me, I have been fishing since I was 4-5 years old. I do not know a life outside of commercial fishing. I cannot remember my earliest fishing trip, nor many of the trips I went on during those first few years. I do remember some things that are engrained into who I am as a person today. The smell of black coffee and diesel, the creak of the wood planks the boat was made from, the feeling of the boat rolling on the water. As a little kid, I spent a lot of my time extremely sea sick, and a lot of the time I was completely miserable. Even though it wasn’t always fun, I knew that I was part of something more.
My dad always explained that fishing was more than a job for him, it was part of who he was as an individual, and therefore, it was part of who I was too.
I didn’t plan on spending most of my life as a commercial fisherman. As a kid, I dreamed of living far away from Alaska, and even far away from the ocean, but the bug bit me early on. As time went, I found myself increasingly drawn to the ocean. By the time I was in high school, I had settled on getting a college degree in marine biology. Within the first 2 weeks of my college career, I had switched my degree to fisheries and ocean sciences. I dreamed of a job in fisheries research and management, but again, the bug had bit me early. By the time I graduated, I knew I wanted to fish full time. I did exactly that, and I was happy. I loved fishing alongside my husband, working on deck and as the cook, and spending most of the year on the ocean.
But there has always been one thing I have wanted to be above all else, a mom. Fishing and motherhood is a tough balance, and many women struggle between balancing both worlds. Unfortunately for us, babies and boats don’t always mix. I was fortunate to fish for as long as I did throughout my pregnancy, and one day, we want to have our daughter out on the water with us. For now, though, she is too little. So, for a while, I’ll hang up my rain gear and her dad will go off without us. There will be a lot of tears, a lot of phone calls at random hours, a lot of missed “firsts.” Most fishermen that are fathers (and some mothers!) miss out on a lot of the big moments, first steps, words, birthdays, and holidays. A fisherman friend of ours commented after our daughter was born that we are lucky- Anna was born in January which means Jesse shouldn’t miss her birthdays. I feel thankful for this- I didn’t get to spend a birthday with my own dad from the ages of 6 to 15 because he was fishing. Even though she was born at a “good” time of year, Jess and I both know that he may very well end up fishing in January someday. Fishing is unpredictable, as is our life as a fishing family. We are prepared for that reality, and we both understand that it is the life we have chosen.When you talk to fishermen, almost all of us speak in terms of generations, both those that have come before, and those that will come after.
We see ourselves and our operations as small parts of this industry, nothing more than brief moments in time in a much longer story. Yet, we still understand the importance of our time now. We fight hard on the management front, constantly advocating for our resources, so that our story may continue for generations to come. We do this while working hard to produce quality seafood for consumers worldwide. Both fronts are important because we all know that without fish, there are no fishermen, and without quality product, we will have no markets. It’s hard work managing both fronts at once while balancing our home and family life. Some years, we barely make enough money to pay our bills, and at times, we want to give up. Almost every fisherman I know has at some point said “maybe I’ll get a land job next year.” Yet we keep returning, because for those of us that make this our living, fishing is our way of life.
It may seem foreign to those who don’t make their living on the water, but there is a pull to the ocean that we all feel. The ocean is our home away from home. Our schedules aren’t marked by days of the week or hours worked, but rather by the weather and tides. No matter how comfortable land life is, the ocean is a magnetic force pulling us towards it, and life without it feels foreign. I once read something somewhere that said that when you are a fisherman, you never really can abandon the way of life. You can go off and try to do other things, but you will always feel the pull of the ocean. When I was in high school and college, I always longed for the ocean. I counted down days until I could be back out where I felt I belonged. I feel the same pull now, watching my husband packing his gear, looking at weather reports, and talking to fishermen friends. I know I’m needed here for now, and I am happy to be here, but I’m dreaming of the days ahead where my daughter can join us, and I can return to the ocean.
I don’t know if our daughter will follow in our footsteps as an adult. Long before she was born, we had always said that we would never expect our children to be fishermen. We will include her in the operation when she is old enough, but if she chooses to follow her own path as an adult, we will understand. No matter what she does, we hope the opportunity is there for her. We will fight with everything we have to make sure that it is.
Tonight, I’ll rock my daughter to sleep while wait for her dad to call to let me know he has made it to the boat. From our home here in Alaska, I can hear the roar of the ocean as it crashes on shore. After he calls, I’ll drift off to sleep listening to it as opposed to the quiet hum of the generator and the lap of water against the hull of the boat. I’ll think of Jess, the ocean, and fishing. I’ll miss him and my life on the ocean, but for now, I know this is the best place for us. I’m content with my dreams of our little family one day fishing together.- Molly Ekstrom, Fisherwoman, Mother, and Advocate for the Sea
At Premier Catch, we often say that every piece of seafood we sell has a story. This is one of them—and it’s one we’re incredibly proud to be a part of.
Behind every wild-caught fillet or crab leg is a hardworking person, often far from home, doing an incredibly demanding job. This story reminds us why we fight for sustainable fisheries, why traceability matters, and why we care so deeply about the people behind the catch.
To you, Molly, a remarkable mother, wife, and fisherwoman: thank you for letting us share your journey. You remind us why we do what we do.
