Spirit 1
I cannot begin a story about the Spirit 1 without
including John Gill. Not that John was the only owner of the Spirit1,
its just that he resurrected the Spirit 1 from what for all intents and
purposes was the boat graveyard after an illustrious career as one of
the first Radons built. The hull was wood and they fiber-glassed around
that, before there was a mold for those now famous Radon Hulls. The
Radon family were divers and boat builders and shrewd business men that
began the Radon boat building dynasty in Santa Barbara. Originally
intended as an abalone dive boat designed to surf back to Santa Barbara
from the Channel Islands, using the prevailing seas. Not great for
going into a sea, but if you left early enough before the winds picked
up and kept inside the lee of Point Conception before you crossed the
channel you would not have to go into a sea.....hopefully.
The Spirit 1 was unique in other ways as Radons go. It was about 29
feet not 26 or 32 ft as the standard lengths of the later molds
dictated. She also had a kind of camels hump of a keel, that gave her a
little more stability. Well Duane Brown owned the Spirit 1 for many
years, first as an abalone then later a sea urchin boat, as the abalone
fishery diminished and eventually shut down all together.
Duane about to retire was not about to do another overhaul, he seemed content to let the Spirit 1 die a natural death after serving him for all those years. Enter John Gill. Now John Gill was a tall, handsome, Vietnam combat veteran. From a fairly well off clan from Texas, Oklahoma oil. He made the Army Rangers and led a team that specialized in extractions behind enemy lines. Rumor has it that he was responsible for flooding the black market with those thai sticks, that flooded the west coast in the late 70's. Apparently with his connections and background in that part of the world, he was able to get a freighter thru as kind of a rebellious send off to his military career, as at one point during a mission, he said famously that he realized he was shooting at the wrong people, and that his government had this thing all screwed up. Which many conclude that was the case, only in the aftermath.
His no-nonsense approach to commercial diving Abalone, then sea urchins fit his, independent spirit, He treated every dive trip as a mission, and few in the business would tolerate his eccentric style, basically stripped down to the bare essentials, or bare bones. Consequently he ended up diving by himself more often than not. Of course he would always insist he preferred it that way. Now John and Duane were contemporaries, and John just could not bare to see the Spirit 1 die in such a unceremonious fashion, and purchased the Spirit 1 for $5000...or was it $2000 either way it was a pittance for a commercial dive boat. His first action was to tow her to the desert, Palmdale I think to a property he owned or had access to. Not many knew exactly what went on in Johns world, he was always so secretive, he kept everybody guessing, and I suppose that served him well when he conducted operations among the enemy. He let it sit in the desert heat for 6 months before he started restoration of the Spirit 1. He claims that by drying out the wood in that fashion the hull rose out of the water 6 inches. At that point he stripped her down, so basically he started with just a hull, and re glassed her, or had someone do his bidding. I personally knew all about that as I was one of those who ended doing his bidding during a haul out a few years into the resurrection.
The finished product was a plain, minimalist dive platform, with an open steering station and a windshield, with no glass, that barely was high enough to keep the wind off you. There were no fancy extras, and a huge heavy duty davit. She was clean though, and somehow one could barely notice her until you were right up on her, which was by design, with that battleship grey paint job, hard to see against the islands. John never wanted anyone to know where he was. most divers were that way to an extent, as they protected the fishing grounds they were currently working, but of course like everything else John took that to the extreme.
He also did something that no other dive boat would do he mounted the air compressor inside the cabin. Now at first I was aghast that the smell of the gasoline on overnight trips, sleeping in the cabin would be prohibitive. After a while he convinced me, as long as you keep the compressor well maintained, which was easier to do out of the weather, the smell of gasoline was insignificant. He liked it because it kept the cabin nice and warm during those freezing winter months, and he could warm up between dives.
My potential position or should I say the opportunity for me to achieve that position began in an ironic fashion. Fresh off our week long adventure in Johnson's Lee, Kevin Sears informed me that John Gill may need a diver because he had had enough of John. He also recommended me to John,which helped. Kevin was one of the few divers that could tolerate Johns military ways on the boat. Reversely Kevin was one of the few he would allow on his boat. Mostly he would identify a new diver or even a non-diver he would train to be his tender. After they got a taste of Johns style and the alternative operations that existed in the fleet, those individuals would wander off.
So I made a couple trips with Kevin and John, and we did pretty good. Then a little weather came up and had some time off, but as the weather cleared, I went looking for John. He never owned a phone. In the days before cell phones, if he had to make a call he would go to the office at the Radon yard where he kept his boat when it wasn't in the water. He was friends with George Radon who was now mostly running the boatyard, which could explain how he got away with staying in the large Van he parked where the trailer was. .
So I found him kicking it in his van and asked him if we were going to go back to work soon. Thats when he let me know that he was semi-retired from diving, but that he had restored his friends old boat and that it was meant to be worked. In fact, I found out later that one of the reasons he kept the boat basic and simple , was so he could train just about anyone, fairly quickly and if they had half a brain they could not fail.
I was reluctant to take the boat operator position, as he referred to it. Not only because of the added responsibility, and the extra work. I did not really relish the idea of being under John's supervision. John was an intimidating presence at 6 foot 4 and symptoms of PTSD from his days as an Army Ranger combat Viet Nam veteran. I did not outright turn the job down, but we agreed to meet on the boat the following morning.
John shows up to the boat, with one of the San Diego divers that had recently showed up in Santa Barbara. There was about a half dozen or so of them and one bow loader that most of them had dove on at one time or another. There were some great guys and I was empathetic to there situation, since I was not exactly welcome with open arms in Santa Barbara, coming up from Channel Islands. This particular diver, none other than Kurt Ward, turns out coincidentally was also a former Army Ranger. It was clear that he and John hit it off immediately, mostly because of that fact. Since I was not that committed to take the Boat Operator position, John had offered the job to Kurt, who was more than gung ho and willing, not to mention excited to take the job. If there was any motivation for me to commit to being John's Boat Operator. more effective than the situation I was now faced with, I don't know what that would be. Of course I was very diplomatic about the whole thing. I was honest with Kurt, and explained how I felt, but inside I was thinking, "there is no way I was going to be under the authority of this transplant San Diego diver. I knew the boat and I knew the hot urchin picking in the local waters. He had no idea, he was new to the area. We agreed however that we would share the responsibility.
Kurt and I motored out the following morning, Kurt was full of optimism and I hoped this would work out. We arrived on the back side of Santa Rosa headed for the deep current spot, outside Johnson's Lee that I mentioned previously. It was a spot you could work when the rest of the area was blown out, you just had to deal with the strong current and the depth, which went from about 60 ft out to 90 plus.
I had some line ups that I used before the days of GPS. I identified a landmark on the peaks of the island and lined it up with a tree or other landmark on the beach to find this reef, I knew was loaded. We threw the hook and anchored I turned off the motor, but when we settled in, we were off the line ups a little so I wanted to pull the hook and reset it on the right spot. Well the motor would not start. Apparently there were a few teeth missing off the fly wheel, and when that spot was where the starter had to grab to start the engine, it would just freewheeled the gear on the starter. If you just kept turning it it would eventually get off that spot and start, But this time no matter what we did. it was no use it was dead.
Well I tried to get the Coast Guard on the radio for a tow in, but I was unable to raise them. In the meantime, I told Kurt if he wanted to go ahead a pick a bag of urchins while we were waiting that would help to cover the cost of the fuel. He came back with a stuffed 400 lb. bag of urchins and a look on his face, as if he just struck the mother load. I'm sure he saw more urchins in that dive than multiple dives in San Diego where I was told was a pretty scratchy affair. Kurt was going on and on about how he would help fix the boat so we could get back out here, as quickly as possible. He even went ahead and pulled the starter. Well a crab boat motored by us and I recognized the old timer from Channel Islands, and he agreed to tow us toward the potato patch where we could reach the Coast Guard. I thought that little crab boat was going to blow up his motor towing us. We finally got far enough out to reach the Coast Guard and we were towed into Santa Barbara.
Well John was none too happy but he knew that the missing teeth off the fly wheel would eventually have to be dealt with so he did not get too worked up, but he was not one to waist an opportunity like this, to go ahead and overhaul the motor while it was being pulled to replace the flywheel. Now this point in my career I did not claim to be any type of mechanic. In fact I hated working on mechanical equipment though I did some up to that point, but I avoided it as much as possible. So John pulled the motor with the hoist on the pier , not normally used for that purpose, but John took full advantage of what he could get away with, which was substantial. He was very charming and persuasive so most of the time he got his way, with the ladies as well I might add. So he set the motor on a stand on the pier and instructed me to remove the risers from the cooling system and replace them with some taller risers, that would better protect the motor from the backwash of the ocean in case a heavy load and a following sea could put the motor at risk. Then he left. I was confused how he would let my mechanical fumbling even touch his motor. He was gone for hours. I was getting a little worried. I had no idea what to do next or even if I properly installed the risers. Of course Mr Kurt Ward was nowhere to be found. According to him he was a master mechanic and should have no trouble with pulling the motor and replacing the fly wheel ect.
I found out later that John used a technique in training to get the most out of a trainee. He knowingly gave a little more responsibility to the under qualified. In that way he was able to get the most out of someone, rather than the other way around which tended to discourage those with potential, Well it made sense to me as I gained some confidence around the motor of the Spirit 1 and that is exactly what John wanted, Since I became boat operator trainee number 1 by default, and by my decision to not let some San Diego diver give me orders, when I knew these waters and the prime for picking urchin beds and I already knew the boat. John knew what he was doing when he recruited Kurt to take my job. I was in 100%. which is basically what I told John. He looked right at me and said good, be on the boat in the morning 7 AM.
When I showed up the next morning, John instructed me to remove all of the loose gear in the cabin and other spaces and place it on the dock. Then he went on ' get some hot soapy water and scrub out all the spaces and the cabin inside and out' and when I was finished to return all the gear back to where I got it. Then he left. I was aghast. Here I was my first day of boat operator training and he has me out here doing tenders work. I was not too happy, as I half halfheartedly went about my task. John returned a couple hours later and asked if I had completed the job. I mumbled something about some heavier gear that I just cleaned around. He said 'no everything" then he left again, So I dragged out the spare hand winch and some other spare parts. When John returned he asked the same question. When I affirmed that I had he began asking me where the spare winch was, the flashlight, first aid kit, etc, Well I was able to identify the location of all the gear and he simply said 'good you know where everything is, now we can get started. I t dawned on me that there was a purpose in doing this tenders work.
Well I was off and runnin, I wasn't even sure, if I got the green light. It had been 3 weeks getting the boat fixed, so I really needed to make a trip. This boat operator gig didn't pay while we were sitting on the beach and only an extra 5 % when we were working. Well the weather was nice and I couldnt find John anywhere. I ran into Kevin and he said that John had been bugging him to make a trip with me, so he could keep an eye on me. Nobody said that but I am sure that was the case. Kevin was fed up with John, he used to call him a Viet Nam crazo. I guess they got into last trip over something stupid that John considered very important. Well Kevins attitude was lets get out of here before John shows up.
Kevin was not into working that hard. He was a natural in the water, but working like a dog was not on his agenda. He put very little effort, with the same results as a diver without his natural talent, using twice as much energy. I did not care that much though it was kind of annoying when I needed someone to do back to back trips, which is the only way I had made money in the business. Back to back trips.
John had a policy of putting people on the boat that he trained and approved. He had this thing about women on the boat. He like to have women divers on the boat, though the only 2 in the harbor both did trips with me. I did not mind, but I did end up putting a tender that I knew on the boat. I met Donnie thru a mutual friend and then he invited me to help him harvest his Marijuana grow up in the hills above Ventura. That is whole other chapter. He seemed not afraid to work hard so I took him out on a few trips. He worked out alright except for the fact he was a heroin addict. So unless he had enough for our 2 day trips, might as well leave him on the beach.
So we were cruising right along, and I managed to pull off some epic trips, coming in with 5 or 6 thousand pounds. I would go out the first day and work the deep current outside Johnsons Lee. By the way guess who was sitting right on my line-ups with the whole San Diego fleet, within a few hose lengths. Thats right gung ho loyal Kurt Ward. He gave up my spot to his buddies so fast, it would make your head swim. I was a little irritated, but later when I realized how many sea urchins were there, I was over it. Much of the fleet worked that general area for month's. Any way when the current came up. I pulled anchor went around the point to clusters. John showed me a shallow spot that was just loaded, but you could only get in there when the swell was down. The conditions were right and I managed to pull off a few like that. John was happier than a pig in shit, when I came in with those loads. One trip. it was blowing pretty good, and I had another San Diego Diver Jay Bloomquist, who was hot to make a trip. I guess he had a relative coming for a visit and he was broke. Jay was a really friendly guy and we hung out together for a time when we were onshore. We set out on a trip when none of the other boats did. I knew a spot at Yellow Banks, on the back side of Santa Cruz Island that mostly was worked by the Channel Island fleet. We had to buck up in the teeth of the wind to get there, but I knew once we were anchored we could work the deep current. When we were done for the day, just a few miles to get around the east end of the island and it was all down hill from there, surfing all the way in. My line-ups were etched in my mind, and it was blowing 30 knots, but we pulled it off. Jay was ecstatic. When we pulled in the harbor John came down the pier, with some people, with a big old grin on his face and handed me a $100. Then he introduced me as his boat operator to his friends. He had been in the bar at the end of the pier Brophy Brothers nervously waiting for me to arrive, since no one else was out and conditions were questionable, I sensed that grin was masking his relief. He also mentioned that was the kind of shit he did as well.
Fast forward John showed up back in town and decided to make a trip, so I suggested we do the same routine, he agreed since we were doing so well. So we were just pulling anchor at the end of the trip, it started blowing pretty good and the whitecaps were getting blown over themselves by the the wind that was just a hootin about 25 knots. We were good though we were going with the wind and once we got thru the potato patch, which was a little harry, and we knew we were going to slammed, pretty good, but then it was downhill the rest of the way home. John has the first watch and I am heading down to the cabin after I suited out. All of a sudden I hear this faint cry, more of a yell cry, but very faint. At first I thought it was my imagination, then I heard it again and looked toward the sound, but couldn't see anything between the swells. Then on the back side of the swell I spotted a figure frantically waving his arms and yelling. Then gone again as he descended into the trough of the swell. Then up he came to the peak, and I started yelling at John that there was someone in the water a few hose lengths toward shore. John took a port turn and motored up to the figure who was wearing a wet suit and then we realized it was Mr Kurt Ward. Kurt was yelling that he was bent, as he climbed up on the out drive, but there was a mound of sea urchins between him and the cabin, so he scrambled over the urchins as he explained that he had been hanging off beneath the Blue Angel. He had tied his 3 300 lb bags off with his hose and enough slack so he could hang off at 10 feet since he was way over the no decompression limit. He was going to have to hang off for something like 20 minutes. Well the current was so strong that his hose was kinking against the weight of the sea urchins and the force of the current. So no air he had to bail out.
Well the crew of the Blue Angel were busy arguing with each other as we passed them. I did not think too much about it just chuckled a little. It was not uncommon to have yelling matches on the urchin boats, the pressure to succeed and perform, only exacerbated itself when the weather came up.
Kenny Hauser was one of the crew. Now Kennys father was a very successful tuna fisherman. He was well respected, and Kenny was also a master fiberglass er, a skill he learned from his father. Kennys boat the Easy Rider was a behemoth of a bow loader, but had a shady reputation as a party boat , as did Kenny himself. At any rate neither Kenny or the other crew had any idea Kurt was gone. They assumed he was still hanging off.
Well when Kurt started to rip his wet suit off , John told him that he better not do that as it was important that Kurt should get back down to depth to properly decompress. John suited up, I took the wheel and over the side they went. We decided to throw the anchor, thinking that would allow them to hang off holding the anchor. Well all it did was once the anchor grabbed that forced them to the surface and that was the end of that. We eventually medi-vaced him to the Coast Guard helicopter. John took the wheel as we were instructed by the helicopter crew to go straight into the wind. Then the stokes liter and a jumper were lowered down on a cable while the chopper hovered over the Spirit 1. Kurt was laying down next to the bulkhead of the cabin not looking too cheerful. John all of a sudden turned to me with that movie star smile and exclaimed "Fuck this reminds me of Nam"
The chopper was not going to be able to get the stokes litter any closer to Kurt, once Kurt realized that he made a miraculous recovery and scrambled over the urchins and jumped in that litter, and off they went. Now what happen next has been a matter of contention, between victims of decompression sickness and Coast Guard and other emergency chopper pilots. Most divers understand that the atmospheric pressure at sea level is what most dive computers (before that math was involved in computing no decompression dives, but the general rule of thumb was 60ft for 60 minutes, 70 ft for 50 minutes, and so on) use to calculate hang off times, when going into decompression diving. Something urchin divers try to avoid, but when the money is there the general practice became more common to decompression dive when the conditions dictated that the diver could safely hang of at 10 ft for X amount of minutes. Well many helicopter pilots don't realize that if they climb to high altitude with a victim of decompression sickness, that is going exacerbate their condition dramatically due to the lower atmospheric pressure at altitude. John and the rest of us were trying to communicate that to the air crew, and I think they got the message as they kept low to the water as they flew off.
Now some might say that Kurt took too great a risk staying at depth that long in the conditions, that were evident, and that was irresponsible of him as no other diver I was aware of took that kind of risk. Some might also say that greed, ego, machismo, courage bravery, or stupidity may have got the better of him and he paid the consequences. I was more aware of the irony, or karma that was present. It just seemed fitting because I was having a slight resentment, due to Kurts jumping ship in the time of need, making sure all his San Diego buddies reaped the benefits of my experience, as competition for prime urchin territory was fierce at times. I did not wish anything bad to happen to Kurt, just because my ego, and to some extent my pocketbook was damaged. In fact later on I used the incident as a badge of honor the San Diego fleet invaded my spot. Now all of us divers were guilty of trespassing on another territory at one time or another. It is just that Kurt was so Gung Ho of how he was going to to this and that make sure the Spirit 1 was back in the water, and that he would protect the knowledge of prime urchin picking by following thru with that.
Now 30 years later Kurt ends up writing a book Harvester of the Sea (available on Amazon) I had not seen him in 20 something years, when all of a sudden he pops up on my Facebook page. A friend of a friend, another diver who I had not seen for a while either. He is making a comment about his age, and I just could not resist as a posted a comment about how he may not have made it, if I had not heard then spotted him that day. I was being sarcastic and and any resentment I had had long passed, as I realized I may have been a little presumptuous thinking I could protect that spot for very long, as 10 to 15 boats worked that spot for months, and even I did not realize how many urchins were actually there. Well he said Hi and told me that story was in his book, and it was all good. Well I was curious as to how well our memories hold up after 30 years, so I ran down to him my take on the story, and I was a little sarcastic, and I was ribbing him a little, but all in good fun, and I really never meant any harm. Well he just reacted in such a way, that he felt I was denigrating him, and he blocked me from his page and called me asshole. I felt bad because that was not my intention. I had to find his alternative email to tell him that. I dont know if he got it, I have not heard anything. Then I thought about it for a while and the old Shakespeare quote came to mind "thou protesteth too much" Maybe there is a tinge of self doubt evident in that reaction. Any way buy his book I hope he makes millions.
So I did my little episode on the Spirit 1. Years later I saw the boat up in Pt Arena, and I ran into John, he was gracious and acted genuinely glad to see me. He said I could work on the boat with Kieth his new operator /tender. which I did and that has its own story behind it, stay tuned.
Duane about to retire was not about to do another overhaul, he seemed content to let the Spirit 1 die a natural death after serving him for all those years. Enter John Gill. Now John Gill was a tall, handsome, Vietnam combat veteran. From a fairly well off clan from Texas, Oklahoma oil. He made the Army Rangers and led a team that specialized in extractions behind enemy lines. Rumor has it that he was responsible for flooding the black market with those thai sticks, that flooded the west coast in the late 70's. Apparently with his connections and background in that part of the world, he was able to get a freighter thru as kind of a rebellious send off to his military career, as at one point during a mission, he said famously that he realized he was shooting at the wrong people, and that his government had this thing all screwed up. Which many conclude that was the case, only in the aftermath.
His no-nonsense approach to commercial diving Abalone, then sea urchins fit his, independent spirit, He treated every dive trip as a mission, and few in the business would tolerate his eccentric style, basically stripped down to the bare essentials, or bare bones. Consequently he ended up diving by himself more often than not. Of course he would always insist he preferred it that way. Now John and Duane were contemporaries, and John just could not bare to see the Spirit 1 die in such a unceremonious fashion, and purchased the Spirit 1 for $5000...or was it $2000 either way it was a pittance for a commercial dive boat. His first action was to tow her to the desert, Palmdale I think to a property he owned or had access to. Not many knew exactly what went on in Johns world, he was always so secretive, he kept everybody guessing, and I suppose that served him well when he conducted operations among the enemy. He let it sit in the desert heat for 6 months before he started restoration of the Spirit 1. He claims that by drying out the wood in that fashion the hull rose out of the water 6 inches. At that point he stripped her down, so basically he started with just a hull, and re glassed her, or had someone do his bidding. I personally knew all about that as I was one of those who ended doing his bidding during a haul out a few years into the resurrection.
The finished product was a plain, minimalist dive platform, with an open steering station and a windshield, with no glass, that barely was high enough to keep the wind off you. There were no fancy extras, and a huge heavy duty davit. She was clean though, and somehow one could barely notice her until you were right up on her, which was by design, with that battleship grey paint job, hard to see against the islands. John never wanted anyone to know where he was. most divers were that way to an extent, as they protected the fishing grounds they were currently working, but of course like everything else John took that to the extreme.
He also did something that no other dive boat would do he mounted the air compressor inside the cabin. Now at first I was aghast that the smell of the gasoline on overnight trips, sleeping in the cabin would be prohibitive. After a while he convinced me, as long as you keep the compressor well maintained, which was easier to do out of the weather, the smell of gasoline was insignificant. He liked it because it kept the cabin nice and warm during those freezing winter months, and he could warm up between dives.
Another
unorthodox method John used to employ was sinking the first days
catch on the bottom in the anchorage overnight. He stressed the
importance of finding a sandy bottom, preferably 35 to 40 ft deep.
He also instructed that the net bags should be tied off to each other
in case the swell picked up. This was an optional consideration.
Nobody wanted to be the one to make that dive at dusk, and tie off
those bags, but when failure to do so resulted in the net bags
turning upside down and the urchins spilled out all over the bottom
when the swell came up, as I learned the hard way in Johnson Lee one
trip. There is nothing more embarrassing and frustrating than having
to pick the urchins twice.
Most
all the other boats just hang the nets on a floater either tied to
the boat or on a string. The advantage of Johns method is there is a
clear deck for the second day, which is nice, and the urchins stay
fresher not having to sit on deck all day. Quitting a little early,
to go retrieve the urchins is part of that routine, but then again
nobody wants to be the guy that has to dive down and float the
urchins. There was an added perk, Cuyler anchorage , San Miguel
Island. The urchins attracted the black tip crabs. There were so many
in the net bags and underneath half buried in the sand, that we did
not even collect them all. I resorted to ripping a claw off and then
the crab could live and grow a new one.
I
reluctantly became what John referred to as a "boat operator". I had been diving for about 7 years, and John seemed to accept
that as qualified enough for me to be trained as a boat operator for the
Spirit 1. John made it clear that if I wanted to work more steadily,
that it was necessary because he would take weeks off at a time to go
snow skiing or on a bicycle trip or he would just make up something
,just to see how many people would believe it. He had a strange sense
of humor about that. He said that the boat "was meant to be worked" and
that it was ok by him whether he was on the boat or not.My potential position or should I say the opportunity for me to achieve that position began in an ironic fashion. Fresh off our week long adventure in Johnson's Lee, Kevin Sears informed me that John Gill may need a diver because he had had enough of John. He also recommended me to John,which helped. Kevin was one of the few divers that could tolerate Johns military ways on the boat. Reversely Kevin was one of the few he would allow on his boat. Mostly he would identify a new diver or even a non-diver he would train to be his tender. After they got a taste of Johns style and the alternative operations that existed in the fleet, those individuals would wander off.
So I made a couple trips with Kevin and John, and we did pretty good. Then a little weather came up and had some time off, but as the weather cleared, I went looking for John. He never owned a phone. In the days before cell phones, if he had to make a call he would go to the office at the Radon yard where he kept his boat when it wasn't in the water. He was friends with George Radon who was now mostly running the boatyard, which could explain how he got away with staying in the large Van he parked where the trailer was. .
So I found him kicking it in his van and asked him if we were going to go back to work soon. Thats when he let me know that he was semi-retired from diving, but that he had restored his friends old boat and that it was meant to be worked. In fact, I found out later that one of the reasons he kept the boat basic and simple , was so he could train just about anyone, fairly quickly and if they had half a brain they could not fail.
I was reluctant to take the boat operator position, as he referred to it. Not only because of the added responsibility, and the extra work. I did not really relish the idea of being under John's supervision. John was an intimidating presence at 6 foot 4 and symptoms of PTSD from his days as an Army Ranger combat Viet Nam veteran. I did not outright turn the job down, but we agreed to meet on the boat the following morning.
John shows up to the boat, with one of the San Diego divers that had recently showed up in Santa Barbara. There was about a half dozen or so of them and one bow loader that most of them had dove on at one time or another. There were some great guys and I was empathetic to there situation, since I was not exactly welcome with open arms in Santa Barbara, coming up from Channel Islands. This particular diver, none other than Kurt Ward, turns out coincidentally was also a former Army Ranger. It was clear that he and John hit it off immediately, mostly because of that fact. Since I was not that committed to take the Boat Operator position, John had offered the job to Kurt, who was more than gung ho and willing, not to mention excited to take the job. If there was any motivation for me to commit to being John's Boat Operator. more effective than the situation I was now faced with, I don't know what that would be. Of course I was very diplomatic about the whole thing. I was honest with Kurt, and explained how I felt, but inside I was thinking, "there is no way I was going to be under the authority of this transplant San Diego diver. I knew the boat and I knew the hot urchin picking in the local waters. He had no idea, he was new to the area. We agreed however that we would share the responsibility.
Kurt and I motored out the following morning, Kurt was full of optimism and I hoped this would work out. We arrived on the back side of Santa Rosa headed for the deep current spot, outside Johnson's Lee that I mentioned previously. It was a spot you could work when the rest of the area was blown out, you just had to deal with the strong current and the depth, which went from about 60 ft out to 90 plus.
I had some line ups that I used before the days of GPS. I identified a landmark on the peaks of the island and lined it up with a tree or other landmark on the beach to find this reef, I knew was loaded. We threw the hook and anchored I turned off the motor, but when we settled in, we were off the line ups a little so I wanted to pull the hook and reset it on the right spot. Well the motor would not start. Apparently there were a few teeth missing off the fly wheel, and when that spot was where the starter had to grab to start the engine, it would just freewheeled the gear on the starter. If you just kept turning it it would eventually get off that spot and start, But this time no matter what we did. it was no use it was dead.
Well I tried to get the Coast Guard on the radio for a tow in, but I was unable to raise them. In the meantime, I told Kurt if he wanted to go ahead a pick a bag of urchins while we were waiting that would help to cover the cost of the fuel. He came back with a stuffed 400 lb. bag of urchins and a look on his face, as if he just struck the mother load. I'm sure he saw more urchins in that dive than multiple dives in San Diego where I was told was a pretty scratchy affair. Kurt was going on and on about how he would help fix the boat so we could get back out here, as quickly as possible. He even went ahead and pulled the starter. Well a crab boat motored by us and I recognized the old timer from Channel Islands, and he agreed to tow us toward the potato patch where we could reach the Coast Guard. I thought that little crab boat was going to blow up his motor towing us. We finally got far enough out to reach the Coast Guard and we were towed into Santa Barbara.
Well John was none too happy but he knew that the missing teeth off the fly wheel would eventually have to be dealt with so he did not get too worked up, but he was not one to waist an opportunity like this, to go ahead and overhaul the motor while it was being pulled to replace the flywheel. Now this point in my career I did not claim to be any type of mechanic. In fact I hated working on mechanical equipment though I did some up to that point, but I avoided it as much as possible. So John pulled the motor with the hoist on the pier , not normally used for that purpose, but John took full advantage of what he could get away with, which was substantial. He was very charming and persuasive so most of the time he got his way, with the ladies as well I might add. So he set the motor on a stand on the pier and instructed me to remove the risers from the cooling system and replace them with some taller risers, that would better protect the motor from the backwash of the ocean in case a heavy load and a following sea could put the motor at risk. Then he left. I was confused how he would let my mechanical fumbling even touch his motor. He was gone for hours. I was getting a little worried. I had no idea what to do next or even if I properly installed the risers. Of course Mr Kurt Ward was nowhere to be found. According to him he was a master mechanic and should have no trouble with pulling the motor and replacing the fly wheel ect.
I found out later that John used a technique in training to get the most out of a trainee. He knowingly gave a little more responsibility to the under qualified. In that way he was able to get the most out of someone, rather than the other way around which tended to discourage those with potential, Well it made sense to me as I gained some confidence around the motor of the Spirit 1 and that is exactly what John wanted, Since I became boat operator trainee number 1 by default, and by my decision to not let some San Diego diver give me orders, when I knew these waters and the prime for picking urchin beds and I already knew the boat. John knew what he was doing when he recruited Kurt to take my job. I was in 100%. which is basically what I told John. He looked right at me and said good, be on the boat in the morning 7 AM.
When I showed up the next morning, John instructed me to remove all of the loose gear in the cabin and other spaces and place it on the dock. Then he went on ' get some hot soapy water and scrub out all the spaces and the cabin inside and out' and when I was finished to return all the gear back to where I got it. Then he left. I was aghast. Here I was my first day of boat operator training and he has me out here doing tenders work. I was not too happy, as I half halfheartedly went about my task. John returned a couple hours later and asked if I had completed the job. I mumbled something about some heavier gear that I just cleaned around. He said 'no everything" then he left again, So I dragged out the spare hand winch and some other spare parts. When John returned he asked the same question. When I affirmed that I had he began asking me where the spare winch was, the flashlight, first aid kit, etc, Well I was able to identify the location of all the gear and he simply said 'good you know where everything is, now we can get started. I t dawned on me that there was a purpose in doing this tenders work.
Well I was off and runnin, I wasn't even sure, if I got the green light. It had been 3 weeks getting the boat fixed, so I really needed to make a trip. This boat operator gig didn't pay while we were sitting on the beach and only an extra 5 % when we were working. Well the weather was nice and I couldnt find John anywhere. I ran into Kevin and he said that John had been bugging him to make a trip with me, so he could keep an eye on me. Nobody said that but I am sure that was the case. Kevin was fed up with John, he used to call him a Viet Nam crazo. I guess they got into last trip over something stupid that John considered very important. Well Kevins attitude was lets get out of here before John shows up.
Kevin was not into working that hard. He was a natural in the water, but working like a dog was not on his agenda. He put very little effort, with the same results as a diver without his natural talent, using twice as much energy. I did not care that much though it was kind of annoying when I needed someone to do back to back trips, which is the only way I had made money in the business. Back to back trips.
John had a policy of putting people on the boat that he trained and approved. He had this thing about women on the boat. He like to have women divers on the boat, though the only 2 in the harbor both did trips with me. I did not mind, but I did end up putting a tender that I knew on the boat. I met Donnie thru a mutual friend and then he invited me to help him harvest his Marijuana grow up in the hills above Ventura. That is whole other chapter. He seemed not afraid to work hard so I took him out on a few trips. He worked out alright except for the fact he was a heroin addict. So unless he had enough for our 2 day trips, might as well leave him on the beach.
So we were cruising right along, and I managed to pull off some epic trips, coming in with 5 or 6 thousand pounds. I would go out the first day and work the deep current outside Johnsons Lee. By the way guess who was sitting right on my line-ups with the whole San Diego fleet, within a few hose lengths. Thats right gung ho loyal Kurt Ward. He gave up my spot to his buddies so fast, it would make your head swim. I was a little irritated, but later when I realized how many sea urchins were there, I was over it. Much of the fleet worked that general area for month's. Any way when the current came up. I pulled anchor went around the point to clusters. John showed me a shallow spot that was just loaded, but you could only get in there when the swell was down. The conditions were right and I managed to pull off a few like that. John was happier than a pig in shit, when I came in with those loads. One trip. it was blowing pretty good, and I had another San Diego Diver Jay Bloomquist, who was hot to make a trip. I guess he had a relative coming for a visit and he was broke. Jay was a really friendly guy and we hung out together for a time when we were onshore. We set out on a trip when none of the other boats did. I knew a spot at Yellow Banks, on the back side of Santa Cruz Island that mostly was worked by the Channel Island fleet. We had to buck up in the teeth of the wind to get there, but I knew once we were anchored we could work the deep current. When we were done for the day, just a few miles to get around the east end of the island and it was all down hill from there, surfing all the way in. My line-ups were etched in my mind, and it was blowing 30 knots, but we pulled it off. Jay was ecstatic. When we pulled in the harbor John came down the pier, with some people, with a big old grin on his face and handed me a $100. Then he introduced me as his boat operator to his friends. He had been in the bar at the end of the pier Brophy Brothers nervously waiting for me to arrive, since no one else was out and conditions were questionable, I sensed that grin was masking his relief. He also mentioned that was the kind of shit he did as well.
Fast forward John showed up back in town and decided to make a trip, so I suggested we do the same routine, he agreed since we were doing so well. So we were just pulling anchor at the end of the trip, it started blowing pretty good and the whitecaps were getting blown over themselves by the the wind that was just a hootin about 25 knots. We were good though we were going with the wind and once we got thru the potato patch, which was a little harry, and we knew we were going to slammed, pretty good, but then it was downhill the rest of the way home. John has the first watch and I am heading down to the cabin after I suited out. All of a sudden I hear this faint cry, more of a yell cry, but very faint. At first I thought it was my imagination, then I heard it again and looked toward the sound, but couldn't see anything between the swells. Then on the back side of the swell I spotted a figure frantically waving his arms and yelling. Then gone again as he descended into the trough of the swell. Then up he came to the peak, and I started yelling at John that there was someone in the water a few hose lengths toward shore. John took a port turn and motored up to the figure who was wearing a wet suit and then we realized it was Mr Kurt Ward. Kurt was yelling that he was bent, as he climbed up on the out drive, but there was a mound of sea urchins between him and the cabin, so he scrambled over the urchins as he explained that he had been hanging off beneath the Blue Angel. He had tied his 3 300 lb bags off with his hose and enough slack so he could hang off at 10 feet since he was way over the no decompression limit. He was going to have to hang off for something like 20 minutes. Well the current was so strong that his hose was kinking against the weight of the sea urchins and the force of the current. So no air he had to bail out.
Well the crew of the Blue Angel were busy arguing with each other as we passed them. I did not think too much about it just chuckled a little. It was not uncommon to have yelling matches on the urchin boats, the pressure to succeed and perform, only exacerbated itself when the weather came up.
Kenny Hauser was one of the crew. Now Kennys father was a very successful tuna fisherman. He was well respected, and Kenny was also a master fiberglass er, a skill he learned from his father. Kennys boat the Easy Rider was a behemoth of a bow loader, but had a shady reputation as a party boat , as did Kenny himself. At any rate neither Kenny or the other crew had any idea Kurt was gone. They assumed he was still hanging off.
Well when Kurt started to rip his wet suit off , John told him that he better not do that as it was important that Kurt should get back down to depth to properly decompress. John suited up, I took the wheel and over the side they went. We decided to throw the anchor, thinking that would allow them to hang off holding the anchor. Well all it did was once the anchor grabbed that forced them to the surface and that was the end of that. We eventually medi-vaced him to the Coast Guard helicopter. John took the wheel as we were instructed by the helicopter crew to go straight into the wind. Then the stokes liter and a jumper were lowered down on a cable while the chopper hovered over the Spirit 1. Kurt was laying down next to the bulkhead of the cabin not looking too cheerful. John all of a sudden turned to me with that movie star smile and exclaimed "Fuck this reminds me of Nam"
The chopper was not going to be able to get the stokes litter any closer to Kurt, once Kurt realized that he made a miraculous recovery and scrambled over the urchins and jumped in that litter, and off they went. Now what happen next has been a matter of contention, between victims of decompression sickness and Coast Guard and other emergency chopper pilots. Most divers understand that the atmospheric pressure at sea level is what most dive computers (before that math was involved in computing no decompression dives, but the general rule of thumb was 60ft for 60 minutes, 70 ft for 50 minutes, and so on) use to calculate hang off times, when going into decompression diving. Something urchin divers try to avoid, but when the money is there the general practice became more common to decompression dive when the conditions dictated that the diver could safely hang of at 10 ft for X amount of minutes. Well many helicopter pilots don't realize that if they climb to high altitude with a victim of decompression sickness, that is going exacerbate their condition dramatically due to the lower atmospheric pressure at altitude. John and the rest of us were trying to communicate that to the air crew, and I think they got the message as they kept low to the water as they flew off.
Now some might say that Kurt took too great a risk staying at depth that long in the conditions, that were evident, and that was irresponsible of him as no other diver I was aware of took that kind of risk. Some might also say that greed, ego, machismo, courage bravery, or stupidity may have got the better of him and he paid the consequences. I was more aware of the irony, or karma that was present. It just seemed fitting because I was having a slight resentment, due to Kurts jumping ship in the time of need, making sure all his San Diego buddies reaped the benefits of my experience, as competition for prime urchin territory was fierce at times. I did not wish anything bad to happen to Kurt, just because my ego, and to some extent my pocketbook was damaged. In fact later on I used the incident as a badge of honor the San Diego fleet invaded my spot. Now all of us divers were guilty of trespassing on another territory at one time or another. It is just that Kurt was so Gung Ho of how he was going to to this and that make sure the Spirit 1 was back in the water, and that he would protect the knowledge of prime urchin picking by following thru with that.
Now 30 years later Kurt ends up writing a book Harvester of the Sea (available on Amazon) I had not seen him in 20 something years, when all of a sudden he pops up on my Facebook page. A friend of a friend, another diver who I had not seen for a while either. He is making a comment about his age, and I just could not resist as a posted a comment about how he may not have made it, if I had not heard then spotted him that day. I was being sarcastic and and any resentment I had had long passed, as I realized I may have been a little presumptuous thinking I could protect that spot for very long, as 10 to 15 boats worked that spot for months, and even I did not realize how many urchins were actually there. Well he said Hi and told me that story was in his book, and it was all good. Well I was curious as to how well our memories hold up after 30 years, so I ran down to him my take on the story, and I was a little sarcastic, and I was ribbing him a little, but all in good fun, and I really never meant any harm. Well he just reacted in such a way, that he felt I was denigrating him, and he blocked me from his page and called me asshole. I felt bad because that was not my intention. I had to find his alternative email to tell him that. I dont know if he got it, I have not heard anything. Then I thought about it for a while and the old Shakespeare quote came to mind "thou protesteth too much" Maybe there is a tinge of self doubt evident in that reaction. Any way buy his book I hope he makes millions.
So I did my little episode on the Spirit 1. Years later I saw the boat up in Pt Arena, and I ran into John, he was gracious and acted genuinely glad to see me. He said I could work on the boat with Kieth his new operator /tender. which I did and that has its own story behind it, stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment