. He was about 22 years old, and he had the
wherewithal to seize upon a window of opportunity, that took some
charm, not a little skill, a heap of some big balls, courage, tenacity
and any other adjective one would want to throw in that would fit
for mission he set out upon that summer.
The year was 1990 and I had migrated up to Pt. Arena
originally the year before in my 1960 International 3/4 ton dually
Pick up truck. The long stroke straight 6 that powered that beast,
was equipped with a 2 speed transfer case with 4 forward gears and 4
wheel drive. Her top speed was 45 miles per hour with or without a
load, and she could pull quite a load.
I bought that truck after seeing it for sale on the
side of the road in Bodega Bay for 900 bucks. The Fisherman I bought
it from use to use it to haul sea urchins from the beach in Timber
cove, after he had lowered them onto a car hood from his little
aluminum skiff, then winched them up to the truck over the sand. He
then reattached the winch to the net bags, and lifted the nets on to
truck which was equipped with an A frame, and a boom crane. After he
drove off the sand he pumped the air back in the tires and drove to
the processor located at Lucas Wharf Bodega Bay, about 25 miles away.
Quite a feat of ingenuity, although it rusted the bed with all that
salt water, which I dealt with later on when I painted it, but thats
another story.
I had an 1955 Alaskan camper in the bed, of my famous
(among the local fisherman any way) international pick up truck' you
know the kind that you can pump up and down with the built in
Hydraulic pump. I rolled into Pt Arena that year in April, a little
early for the season, but I wanted to get a head start. Well Posiden
or King Neptune whichever you prefer decided to beach 3 Radon dive
boats up on the rocks, after the huge storm swells ripped them from
there moorings. One of them had twin 454 Chevy marine mercruisers with outdrives, and
was brand new. All 32 feet of her, and she looked pristine except
that the bottom was gashed open from the jagged rocks on the beach in
Pt Arena. Several attempts were made to salvage her off the rocks,
until the owner decided it was a total loss and decided just to
collect on the insurance.
Well the aforementioned young man had the idea,
after he had secured salvage rights, when everyone else gave up, to
wait for the tide and re float her as the fish holes that were
punctured were meant to hold water anyway. I don't know exactly
how he did it, but I know he had several pumps on hand and the motors
were good although the out drives were beat up but operable. I think
I remember he paid $5000 for a $80,000 dollar boat, patched up the
fisholds put a new windshield in and rechristened her the UNDERDOG
and was out pimpin for divers, when I ran into him and decided I
liked his chutzpahs and agreed to give it a go.
I had been watching him for weeks patching up that hull
as he had a spot near mine at the KOA campground in Manchester about
5 mile north of Pt Arena. He had his own boat as well, but it was
not would I would call the pride of the fleet, but he made it work,
after all a sea urchin fishing voyage in pt Arena was not all that
far to go. He did not dive himself yet but I think he was going
threw the motions to get his permit since they had recently closed
the fishery. The California Fish and Game in there infinite wisdom
felt the need to sell 900 permits, and then claim divers were
overfishing the population. So they closed the selling of permits
until they figured out a plan to manage the fishery. At any rate if
he could work 3 good divers he could still make money with the
percentage he would receive from all 3.
So I was unhappy where I was at, which was not uncommon
and I rather enjoyed the experience of other operations. Off we went
toward Shelter cove which was about 50 miles north, but it had not
really been touched by the divers yet and there were some virgin beds
calling to us. Well after we took the second on-coming 4 ft wind
waves the windshield he installed himself collapsed down on us and I
about shit my pants. No way was I going to suffer 50 miles in this
sea without a windshield and I don't think the electronics would fare
too well either. We turned around and I was a little disappointed
because I was looking forward to the new territory to be conquered.
The young skipper however did not give up, he managed to convince
the owner of a big heavy duty truck, that his truck would be ideal to
tow his 32 foot Radon up to Shelter Cove. I don't know how he did
it, but his powers of persuasion were firing on all cylinders that
day. Now the road to Shelter Cove makes the high mountain Inca roads
look reasonable. It is a winding steep switchback of a road barely
enough room for 2 cars and no shoulder. So I made the decision to
hang back until that boat was safely delivered to Shelter Cove, at
which time I would hitch a ride back up after he returned
the tow truck. The plan was to use The Underdog as a pick up boat as
it could hold over 10,000 pounds. The other mostly smaller fleet
could make the trip, onto the Underdog, then he could run them in every
night, and now that the windshield was properly installed run back
and the other small boats could stay in Shelter Cove without having
to spend the fuel and time going back home every night. Now I had
the option of staying in the campground, which would be kind of fun.
( I thought)
Well the boat was delivered to Shelter Cove
alright after he half skidded backwards down a windy turn and almost
went over the side on several occasions, but he was a man of his word
so the next morning I headed up with him in his truck.
Shelter Cove is a beautiful place, pristine Northern
California seascapes with Redwood trees all around. Campground and
bait shop and not much else. They did have a boat crane on wheels,
that was equipped with a couple slings. Once the boat was off the
trailer they would literally drive the boat down this long cement
ramp about 200 ft to the water.
Well looks like were in business, I thought to myself
and I got suited up and swam the short distance to where the boat was
anchored. We did not even have to move the boat the sea urchins were
everywhere. After about 3 400 pound bags of urchins were still
hanging on the side I realized something was wrong, and there was.
The electric winch had broke, with no spare or parts. I had enough.
I swam in and found a campsite. I could see the Underdog from my
spot and I informed the skipper that when I saw him able to load those bags, I
would swim back out, which I was less than confident I would see that
happen. It was fairly windy outside the Cove but inside it was warm
and calm so I ventured out to a little beach that had some large
rocks positioned in such a way that you could use them as a blind or
a little shelter for privacy, when lo and behold I ran into Cathy, I
had met her in pt. Arena as she was attached to Joe one of the divers
I knew, but for how long was anybodies guess. She was accompanied by
a sweet young and beautiful thing who claimed another diver I knew,
without their bathing suits on, well after a few pleasantries mine
came off too. So I had 2 fine girls to beach naked with while I was
waiting for the Underdog to be repaired. Not a bad thing under the
circumstances.
Well to my amazement, and by this time disappointment, the skipper began raising those cargo nets full of sea urchin on to the
Underdog and it was time for me to get back in the water....but then
it was getting late afternoon, by the time I got out there, sundown
would be less than an hour away. I made my way, with a short swim,
mostly out of curiosity how he managed to repair that winch. Well I
found out he had not. Chad had actually utilized the hydraulic anchor
winch, and ran a line from it, up and threw the block on the boom,
down to the end and threw the block on the end of the boom. Down to
the water, where the divers could hook up the net, and wallah, back
in business. That guy would not give up, ill give him that, and because
of him the operation was underway for several weeks anyway.
So I ended up hooking up with some divers who wanted to
share a campsite, and we had a wonderful time getting drunk and
barbecuing, happy we did not have to make that 50 mile sea voyage
back to pt Arena, and even worse 50 miles back against the prevailing
seas, the next morning! After we crashed for the night, I was woken
up by some scratching sounds. It appeared there was something trying
to get into the tent. I jumped up and threw open the tent flap to
find a herd, flock, school or whatever you called an army of skunks
invading our campsite scrounging for our leftover chicken bones and
invading our coolers. I attempted to shew them away, and made a
feeble attempt at defending our food, but decided the better of it as
being sprayed by a skunk is fairly unpleasant and those skunks knew
it. They were not scared of us at all, they ruled this campground.
Needless to say the next night I tried to hitch a ride with some of
the divers that had vehicles there, but I was persona non Grata,
because the girls told on me to there boyfriends, probably in the
hope they could stir up some trouble. It was back to the Underdog
for me. My introduction to Shelter Cove complete.
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