Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Bodega Bay

                                Bodega Bay


          Bodega Bay was a beautiful place,surrounded by green rolling hills and the smell of cow manure. Farmers would say that was the smell of money. However the roads around the bay were not meant for pedestrians, at least not the young, carefree urchin diver types from southern California, living on a Landing Craft that may be responsible for taking quite of bit of wealth off the bottom. There was some not so subtle resentments held by some locals , notably the fisherman I purchased my truck from.  To him, one of the little bays that were numerous in the area, represented a sea urchin population that may last him a month or so, working by himself.  He would watch as one of these hot shot urchin boats would show up  from Southern California with 2 or 3 divers, and take the same population out in less than half that time.  Then they would go out and blow the money they made in the bars and chasing the local girls. I could confirm that walking on the roads around Bodega Bay, I felt that resentment 1st hand as I nearly was run over several times. It is a good thing I had a little Zodiac inflatable with a 25 horse Evinrude outboard to get around in, courtesy of the Integrity, which was now in Dry dock awaiting repairs
              The Integrity was a 40+something ft landing craft was the brain child of 3 high line Urchin Boat Owners Glen Huebner, Quinten Quider ,Joe Burke and the son of a local restaurant owner Mike Lucas. They formed a partnership and purchased the Integrity. They thought they could use it to offload urchins from the shore in Shelter Cove since there was no pier or off loading facilities, locally.
       Quiten Quider was an understated unassuming, mild mannered sort of guy.  I made a few trips on his boat the Avril Q.  He was a highly motivated ambitious diver and could and would stay in the water past dusk and way after many other divers had enough, including me.  He even gave me a back handed compliment suggesting that I would be a good diver if I stayed in the water.
       Joe Burke was gregarious, outspoken, and had an easy way about him, as well as a joke and a Big smile that could make girls melt.  He worked his boat the Hot Pursuit by himself with a tender. and filled his boat with about 5000 pounds, nearly  every  trip.  One morning while his boat was in the shop, he jumped on the Avril Q with me and another diver. We planned on heading out to the Farallon Islands. Conditions were favorable and I was able to pick about 3000 pounds in about 5 hours I froze  my ass off, and my hand retained the shape of my picker for several hours later.  I suited out, then Joe swam to the boat with his full net bag and then yelled at the tender   "1 MORE!"   I lost track of how many times he said that, but I do know he weighed in at 11,000  pounds!!!   What a beast.  Conversely the  next trip, Joe jumped in the water for a survey.  He immediately jumped back out, and explained  "LETS GO HOME   WATERS TOO WARM"  We all knew what that meant.  These waters surrounding the Farrallons are notorious for the number of Great White shark sightings.  Apparently it is a breeding ground for the Great Whites.  I only vaguely heard these stories, and I said to Joe that we came a long way just to turn around and go home. I also needed the money.  Joe was way kool with it if I wanted to survey. You see that's when they get you , when your unattached to the boat and on the surface.  When the boat has anchored , not a good idea to spend to much time on the surface or descending and ascending.  When your on the bottom you can use the reefs for protection and hide. Now I am not saying I am Mr Machismo or brave, but I wanted to at least make an effort, otherwise I would not feel good about myself.  So I jumped in and scootered around for a few minutes then decided I should be smart and listen to Joes advice, homeward bound we went. 
       Now the driving force behind this venture was Glen Huebner. Quinten and Joe both were waiting on delivery of 36 ft Wilson/Heubners and this project was not getting there full attention. Additionally once the Integrity was in Northern Ca . Glens attention was focused on completing the finishing touches on the boats he was building. All 3 of the partners had been waiting way too long for their Wilson hulls to be delivered and finally they decided to investigate the progress. They soon discovered that Wilson boats was about to go into chapter 11 bankruptcy proceedings. They acted quickly and seized the 36 ft Wilson mold used for manufacturing a fiberglass from the Wilson yard.  So Glen having outfitted several boats by then decided to get into boat building, and became very successful at it.   That was my impression of Glen. He came from the LA County Lifeguard culture that sprang up in the urchin business, mostly out of Channel Islands Harbor , at first.   These guys were all quality people,good watermen. Clean -cut well-mannered and educated, most had college degrees. This was a breath of fresh air for me, having, up to that point been dealing with some very difficult people.  Glen was an innovator and a motivator, and a competitor.  He had the movie star good looks and majored in Business Administration at Cal State Northridge.  It had always been my impression that Glen would have been successful at whatever he chose to do.  He was one of the first to use float balls to lift the bags of urchins, 600 ft hose was standard per diver, when before Huebner, the fleet was using  old inner tubes 300 ft hoses.  those are just a few.  Glen also instituted rotating crews. He groomed maybe 10 or 15 lifeguards to be divers.  He rotated them on and off the boats he owned.  This would ensure fresh crews, and keep the boat working as the weather dictated. Ultimately being the first and so far only Channel Islands diver to work for the lifeguards, I maintained a schedule that kept me from rotating off the boat.  I did not have  lifeguard duty.  I was ridiculed by the old timers,  because of territorial jealousy mostly, but that did not last too long.  They were a different breed.  Craig Maddox used to swim to the beach when we worked down the beach and go do laps at the pool at Pepperdine  U.
        Now Mike Lucas was the odd man out.  He was the overweight son of a successful restaurateur. Lucas Wharf restaurant also provided unloading facilities for those boats that sold there urchins to the processor they did business.  He would act as our tender when we were working the Integrity in the Channel Island before we left.
              Glen talked me into help take the Integrity up to Bodega Bay I  from Ventura, only to be abandoned by the skipper and his mate in Half moon bay. Which would not have been so bad had not the hull been leaking from some ill advised attempts to run the vessel up on shore at the concrete boat launch. I needed to make some money, since I was not getting paid for delivering the Integrity, even though it was the most miserable voyage, I ever imagined. The square flat bow and flat bottom with no keel, along with the steel construction, created a bone crushing result when passing thru Pt Conception and Pt Arguello .The seas were churning with marine fury, witch was there usual intensity. The sound was like being on the inside of a drum.  Anchored in Halfmoon bay and satisfied that the bilge pumps were keeping up with the leak, I decided I had to make some money, because Glen certainly was not paying me for boat delivery. I started trolling the docks for a boat.I managed to discover the Homeboy. I was familiar with the boat from Santa Barbara, as well as the owner who was one of the only African American urchin divers in the fleet. Tyrone was real cool. He had dreadlocks and always had a ready smile. I found out Tyrone had sold the Homeboy to the gentlemen I approached standing on the deck. Glen Brisendien had a regular diver he was to meet, but he was tardy so he said  I could work until he showed up.  So off we went, to the Farallones. Upon my return, the Integrity was on the way to Bodega bay, as Joe Burke came down, while I was diving and I ended up hitching a ride to catch up with the leaky Landing Craft. I was staying on the boat, until I was able to make enough money to buy my International Pick-up and Alaskan camper, which became my new residence. Until then it was me and the Zodiac, as it happen it was a great way to get around the bay.
      Ironically the Integrity never did see another sea urchin.  After she was repaired she was sold to an outfit that contracted out to assist in the clean up in Alaska from the Exxon Valdez.
       There was a population of Salmon fishermen in Bodega Bay at that time that experienced two consecutive bad years. Some of the fishermen were of family tradition, generations of young fishermen had come up behind there fathers and it was an institution. Many of these fishermen did not really take kindly to the southern California urchin divers migrating into there town and offshore waters making and spending and sometime squandering the increasing profits from the harvesting of sea urchins. The urchin beds were carpeting the bottom since there had not been a commercial urchin fishery in the northern California waters, until recently. Many of the divers were snobs and flaunted there success, without much consideration how the locals felt. I was not one of those. I appreciated the hard working salmon fishermen and sympathized with them for having some down years, although I took advantage of the economic opportunities that presented some real bargains on a couple International pick-up trucks that I purchased. I overheard some envious fishermen who wanted to buy the truck I did, because it was a proven heavy duty commercial work vehicle.
        While I was speeding around the bay in the Zodiac I began to notice another inflatable speeding around as well. A little smaller and a smaller motor as well, we could speed around about the same pace, as I was being challenged to a little racing, by the skippers darting glances as he approached , and opened the throttle. We became acquainted and that was Eric. A big blond haired viking looking fisherman minus the beard, but that came later. He was a few years younger than me, very jovial and most of the information I received about the plight of the locals, and other local lore, was from him. Thru Eric I met a couple other young guys, and when they learned I was friendly and not trying to stick my nose up in the air, they were very hospitable and let me in on some dos and don't s around the harbor. They showed me the old wooden salmon boats they were gearing up for the season, and shared there fishing techniques from trolling with live bait...to mooching or rather floating. I made a couple salmon trips just for fun though we never caught anything. They let me in there circle, and I reciprocated the hospitality, showing them around the Integrity and sharing the urchin fishery with them. Eric actually became an urchin diver, a very good one as it turns out, a path not many of the locals would admit would pay off.
         Other than the fishermen Bodega Bay was mostly a tourist destination, Seafood restaurants , Salt Water taffy signs, sport fishing and of course Bird Watching. I could see why Alfred Hitchcock chose this place for the setting of his motion picture titled The Birds. There was always a gaggle of birdwatchers with there telescopes and cameras camped on the North side of the bay. The town of Bodega proper was about 5 miles down an old country road, and there was the old school house that was featured prominently in the movie,right in the middle of town. Tad lived right across the street. Tad owned a small urchin boat he affectionately called The Blob. Tad was on the other end of the high line operations I experienced, but he was easy going and had that Berkley new age thing going on, and was not as money hungry as the other guys. I made a few trips with him and he let me stay at his place and after I bought my camper, he let me park it in his yard. So I was fortunate enough to drive by the old school house regularly.
        The diving was quite a contrast from the Channel Islands. The water was colder. The Bull Kelp was prevalent on the surface. Most of the Bull kelp down south was mostly down deep and rarely grew to the surface. It was also tough as rope. A kelp knife was mandatory. The kelp I was used to could be cut with a fingernail or as some divers preferred there teeth. The bottom rarely had a consistent reef pattern, mostly humbly boulders, and cliffs in the bays and there was a myriad of little bays. Abalone were everywhere, sometimes 4 or 5 on top of each other, especially out past 40 ft, where the sport divers could not get them. Abalone had not been harvested commercially in Northern California, and the sport divers had to free dive for them and were allowed only 4 a day. Fish and Game were on a constant vigil enforcing Abalone regulations as poachers were common. Abalone could bring a pretty penny on the commercial market. I think when they closed the commercial abalone harvest in southern California they were getting almost $500 dollars a dozen. It was like going thru a gold mine and picking just the silver out.
         I eventually got acclimated to the conditions, and did OK, though I was not the gung ho type, I was satisfied with what I made at a slightly slower pace than many of the big boys, though I could turn on the afterburners when I felt the need.
       One of the locals who I befriended took me up to Star Mountain above Bodega Bay. There was a commune like community up there and some of the people he knew were quite the characters. Independent self made entrepreneurs. It was a long windy road that led up there, about 10 15 miles or so , no shoulder and barely enough room for 2 vehicles. I made my way up there on my own one evening in my 1965 step-side international pick-up, my Pop-up Alaskan camper, nestled in the bed of the truck was comforting knowing I could stop and sleep or eat, or just kick it if I needed to.
It was getting late, and there were not many lights to find my way around the area, so I decided to abort my trip. The road was too narrow to turn around on so I went off the road on to some grass. When I attempted to get back on the road, my tires would just spin on the moist grass and the moisture in the evening air was making it worse. Attempt after attempt I could not get that truck back on the road. So I got out and walked down the hill a ways to see if there was alternate route, if I cut down into the ravine, that seemed the only way out of my predicament. I was not quite sure but I had to try something. So down the Ravine I went, swerving this way and that trying to avoid the trees that were in my line of sight blocking the direct route to the road as it wound down below. I gained a bit of speed as I did not want to get stuck again. I lost some control, and then WHACK! I plowed into a tree and the truck came to a standstill slightly askew and listing about 30 degrees to one side. It was just about completely dark with no moon. I climbed out, and decide to head on foot up the mountain to find help or a phone or something. It seemed like hours passed, I thought I walked many miles and was exhausted cold, and a bit on edge, not quite fear, but apprehensive. Finally I spotted a dim light up ahead and I headed toward that for what seemed like an eternity. When I reached a spot overlooking the ranch house, I hesitated but then I knocked on the door. A minute passed and a bearded gruff looking man in his 30s I would say asked me what the hell I could possibly want. I explained to him what had happen, and he looked at me and said “I can help you get your truck out, but not till the morning so go back and sleep in your camper and come back in the morning. Not what I had in mind walking all the way back, only to repeat the trip in the morning.
        I climbed in the back of the camper with its starboard list and eventually fell asleep. In the morning back to the ranch. Turns out this guy is a Shepard. He watches after his sheep, and he was about to demonstrate to me how he went about that. I can tell you I received a lesson in how to 4x4 thru the hills and the valleys, the meadows and the ravines. He was very deliberate and did not mince words. He observed that he had been on the ranch 15 years and he had seen plenty of people get stuck on the mountain, but he had never seen anyone as far off the road as me. I was in a deep gully and I was yet to have to climb over steep incline before I would have reached the road. Then he climbed into the drivers seat of an International scout. There was about a dozen vehicles on the ranch some operable, some parts and none of them very new At least I had the manufacturer right. He told me to hop in, and he motored over and thru that mountainous terrain, half sideways, and I always thought we were about to roll over. He was not stingy with the throttle either, and I was scared half out of my wits, which I believe was his intention. He said the Scouts were the best for this terrain, low center of gravity, and the axles were not too far apart, which gave the Scout better maneuverability. After he was satisfied I was appropriately humbled. He explained that he had to switch vehicles because the other one was equipped with a PTO. Power Take Off. A direct adapter from the motor that was more efficient and more powerful than a hydraulic winch, which he would need to get my truck over the hump at 100 feet up. When we arrived he said that I was going to have to hump that chain up the hill and connect it to the axle of my camper. No easy task, but I completed the task. Then as instructed I got behind the wheel and started the motor. He began a slow steady pull that squeaked and stretched the limits of its strength. Over the hump I was and then I was able to put it in low gear and idle slowly down to the road. I was eternally grateful and I asked him how much did I owe? $200 he said. I begged off with a promise to pay. I ended up giving him $100 bucks. I just could not justify anymore because I only paid $400 for the truck.
          I had another notable adventure with my ¾ ton dually International pick-up, that solidified my education on how to 4x4 on the sand. After the motor was repaired, I received a request to go rescue someones skiff that had washed up on the beach. They came to me I learned,because the previous owner of the truck regularly was seen assisting others on the beach. I was all in and good thing I brought along one of Erics friends who was also a volunteer fireman when he was not trying to be a salmon fisherman. Of course I got way out on the sand before I got stuck. I was so frustrated. I walked away from the truck, and just gave up and resigned to the fact my truck was to be buried in the sand. Well Greg just laughed and said “calm down, I know how to get that truck out of there.” I was skeptical, but willing to follow his instructions. First he said to let all but 5 pounds of air out of the tires. OK I said doubtfully. Now dig down so the axle is clear and throw some boards under the tires. He told me put it in gear and throttle up slowly, when lo and behold, when I got out of the hole I created the truck just went along on the top of that sand no problemo. I was ecstatic. When we reached the parking lot Greg said I should invest in a 12 volt air compressor I could plug into my cigarette lighter and fill the tires with air so I could drive on the road As it was, we had to take the tires off and he would through them in his pick-up and run the to the gas station pump them up bring em back, and we were back in business. Well I reamed so hard on the lug bolts, I thought I would break my arm, and then my leg. They would no budge. Again I was furious. Righty tighty Lefty Loosy I repeated to myself. Then again I was embarrassed that I did not realize on the end of the stud that the wheel was mounted on, there was a letter L or R, indicating which way too break down the bolt. Some old timer pointed that out to me after he got done laughing his ass off watching me go apoplectic. Apparently it was a safety feature International included in the design, so the lug bolts would not come off, as with that feature the tires would be turning the opposite way the bolts would have to for them to loosen up.
Even with my vehicles, I still loved to run around in the Zodiac especially one epic day when the swell was about 10 ft. I had Joe Burkes tender and his Chesapeake retriever on the zodiac. The dog loved posting up on the bow, snout twitching in the wind. I went out to seal rock and was able to get in the slot on a couple of killer waves, surfing dodging the sea lions who were freaking out I was so close to there colony, with the dog of course.
        Lastly, Dominique Rice was a fairly well known surfer,a while back. He was from Silver Strand. He knew I was an urchin diver and so were some of his surfer buddies, notably Mike Fair and Bob Rhodes. Ya Bob I mentioned you imagine that! He also knew I was a Coast Guard veteran. He came over and asked me about it, and I explained some of the cool things, and I kind of downplayed the military aspect, since I was not really thrilled about the military part of the Coast Guard, but I wanted to encourage him to enlist. So after he enlisted he moved up fairly quickly, made second class petty officer and was up for first class. He served an 8 year stint, as the life suited him. He was stationed at the small Boat Station in Bodega Bay. when the winter storm swell hit and although he was on duty, he just had to go out and surf those swells outside Bodega Bay. Well it just so happen a sport fishing boat heading out that morning, capsized in that swell, leaving the passengers and crew in the water. Well Dominic did his duty and started picking up the survivors on his surf board and ferrying them to shore. He may have rescued 10 or more victims. Hypothermia in that cold water sets in real fast, so it was a good thing he was out there, only problem since he was suppose to be on duty, he thought he would get in big trouble because he was not suppose to be surfing, while on duty. He was suppose to be standing by at the station for any rescue calls coming in, so he would be ready to board the rescue boats at a moments notice. He need not have worried. In there infinite wisdom Coast Guard Brass flew an Admiral in to pin a medal on him, and he was a local hero for his life saving efforts, and I dont believe anyone mentioned the fact he was absent from his duty station that day.

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