Summary of “In Search of Alaska’s Deadliest Catch: The Sea Cucumber”

Hunter Mann-Dempster, professional sea cucumber diver, lives on Baranof Island in a house built on cedar pilings, a short ramble to the ocean through a copse of spruce and hemlock.
Here along the state’s southeast coast, a place that travel guides call the Inside Passage, Parastichopus californicus-“Cukes,” affectionately-use tubed feet to anchor themselves to rocks, slipping into trenches, screwing themselves into the sea floor, surviving on sea mulch floating down like snow from above.
If you’d asked me then if I had any interest in eating a sea cucumber myself, I would have laughed.
Or the Chinese, who eat the knobbed creatures smoked, salted, or dried, and powder the skins to use as an aphrodisiac for reasons clear to anyone who has seen a sea cucumber.
Brendan Jones-author and fisherman-in Thimbleberry Bay, preparing to board a boat headed out to the sea cucumber quarries.
As I came to discover, diving for sea cucumbers makes king crabbing in the Bering Sea look like a tea party.
Parastichopus californicus, the giant California sea cucumber commercially harvested in Alaska.
Food critic Jonathan Gold waxes lyrical over the variations he’s sampled at Asian restaurants, including some discovered in a Vietnamese shopping center on the outskirts of L.A. At Saison in San Francisco, sea cucumber skin has been transformed into chicharrones, and their “Ribs” grilled over an open fire.

The orginal article.