Integrity

 

The Integrity

      Right around the time the sea urchin business really started to take off,  
 I get a phone call from Glen Huebner.  I worked for Glen on the Double Eagle (now the Trilogy) and he was  a very motivated and gifted, diver, skipper and whatever else he decided he wanted to do.  Glen had partnered up with 3 other very successful, leading, high liners, and purchased a 45 ft landing craft.  Thats right the kind they ran up on the beach at Normandy.  The plan was to use the Integrity as a pick-up boat for the small fleet that Glen and his partners Joe Burke, Quiten Quider and Mike Lucas owned or controlled. Glen needed me to take helm watches for the voyage up to northern California.
      He went on to say this would be ideal for Shelter Cove, as getting a truck up there was a daunting task, putting it mildly. They converted the Integrity while they all had new boats on order as well.  That left little time for the partnership to focus there attention on the Integrity, and guess who was the latest candidate to make that operation happen?  They did not come right out and say that, but it became evident, even if by default I had a big landing craft on my hands. At first we made a few trips, out to the Channel Islands to kind of break her in, because everything was brand new, almost antiseptic. The engine room was impressive two shoulder high diesel motors and a huge generator.  I was familiar with the twin screw handling, as the 41 ft Coast Guard rescue boats were twin screw as well, and I operated them while stationed there.  Basically Glen had said on the phone that they were "killing it" out at the Farallon Islands, outside San Francisco, and that I should go with the Integrity so I could take advantage of the Bonanza, once I arrived.  Which was his way of getting me to crew the Integrity, up to Bodega Bay for free.

      So off we went,  The skipper was the electrician who was hired to rewire the Integrity.  He was a sailboat owner, and he had some knowledge of Navigation, but he knew absolutely nothing about the urchin business, or power boats and many other things I discovered later on. He came with his deck hand. He did not seem like a bad person, he just carried out the "skippers" instructions and did not say a whole lot.
     The Integrity was made out of steel, with a square bow and flat bottom with no keel. Part of the plan was to have the capability to run the Integrity loaded with sea urchins on the beach, and then use the crane on the Integrity to off load to a 4 wheel drive truck, since off loading facilities were far and few between in that neck of the woods.  Came to find out later that the Skipper thought it would be fun to test the Integrity's, landing capabilities.  I guess it did not dawn on him that to do that, it should not be on the concrete that boat ramps are made out of, but it did not and that is exactly what he did, with disastrous results, as one could imagine. I also speculate that he was too embarrassed to admit and report his mistake, as the bilge pumps were keeping up with the seawater that was leaking thru the cracked seams that were caused by his folly. These facts were slowly, one by one revealed to me, as I was getting the shit beat out of me, by the crashing and rolling of the Integrity as we approached Pt Conception.  That flat bottom and square bow, heading into the prevailing winds was murder.. That was my initiation, as I took my first wheel watch.  If that was not miserable enough, the sound was thunderous, as the Integrity crashed over those waves.  No insulation allow
ed for the Integrity's hull to act as a drum, with me the BB  inside it.
      If I had been any more miserable before that experience, I could not remember, but I was soon to find out that our little break from the torture, as we motored into Half Moon Bay, would not be long enough for me to recover.  I woke to the sound of the "Skipper" and his helper off loading their gear.  They were jumping ship, because they were not getting paid, they said.  I think all the red flags were in place, and I was stuck anyway, with a sinking Landing craft in an unfamiliar harbor.  After the skipper bailed I went down to the engine room to familiarize myself with the systems, so I could have a fighting chance if something else happen.  I got on the phone and was able to speak to Joe Burke, one of the owners I never met.  He instructed me that it would be necessarily for me to gear up and inspect underneath of the hull, and report on the seriousness of the damage.  I thought about it, and I replied I would do it for $500. When he refused, I hit the docks, searching for an urchin boat, that could use a diver as Half Moon bay, was only 22 miles from the Farallons and the chosen harbor for a significant fleet of urchin boats, in the midst of a feeding frenzy.  I approached the Homeboy, which I was familiar with from Santa Barbara.  The owner Tyrone, the only African American diver I knew, was very congenial and maybe he would put me on.  I found Glen Brisadene who reported he had recently purchased the Homeboy from Tyrone, and that he had  arrived and was waiting for his regular diver to show up.  I told him my story, and I can tell you that he and several other divers were not happy to see that big old landing craft showing up and being responsible for cleaning the sea urchins out of the spots they had there eyes on. At least that was their-- fear. Glen went on to say I could make a trip, while he was awaiting his divers arrival.
      Next morning we were underway, and when I jumped in I can tell you that the Farallons were like another planet compared to the Channel Islands and the urchins were everywhere. The long waist to shoulder high reefs were ideal for knocking the urchins off and straight into the net bag. I had to learn to sneak up on those urchins, because they would clamp down like an Abalone if they sensed a swell or a northern California rookie diver. We had a good day and headed in.  As we entered the harbor at Half Moon Bay The Integrity was missing from her mooring.  "Oh no" I thought I forgot to flip the switch on the bilge pump and the Integrity was on the bottom with Davy Jones locker.
    I was relieved to discover that the Integrity was still intact, but I was mortified to find out that Joe Burke had driven down  and boarded the Integrity and was currently underway for Bodega Bay! This presented a problem for me, since I was staying on the boat and all my other personal property was on the boat, except for my dive gear and the clothes on my back.  No wheels no money and stranded!
      I frantically paced and swore up and down the harbor parking lot. Pre- cell phone era prompted attempted collect calls from one of those foul weather shelters, we used to call phone booths.  More pacing and swearing, then miraculously, a powerful looking short gentleman approached  took pity on me and inquired why I was so distressed.  I relayed the tale to him and by the look of that shit eaten grin that arrived and remained thru most of my story, I think he enjoyed the story so much he volunteered to drive me and my dive gear up to Bodega Bay, as it was basically on his way anyway.  I don't really think it was, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth right?  He turned out to be former logger who now was a sea urchin diver, as the logging industry was in decline.  So was the fishing industry, for that matter, except for the sea urchin fishery, since for one reason these northern California waters had never been fished for urchins.  He was very nice and I was extremely grateful.  The Integrity was not hard to find in Bodega Bay, it was tied to Lucas Wharf where many boats of the fleet would unload their catch, and the high end steak and seafood restaurant located within a short walk, was a nice touch.  I boarded the boat, thanked my ride and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
      The next morning I was sitting up in the pilot house when 3 faces I did not recognize were giving me a curious look, when one of them said "are you Mike Thomas?"  I answered that I was, when the one who I now know was Joe, wanted an explanation of why I refused to inspect the bottom of the Integrity, after all I was staying on the boat and it would seem reasonable to him that I should want to know the status of the vessel I was attached to. By the tone of his voice, there also was an implication that I was obligated to perform the duty as the boat was in danger of sinking'  Trying as hard as I could not to show how indignant I felt, I explained that, the only reason I was staying on the boat, is because Glen needed another body to take a helm watch, for the long voyage, and it did not hurt that once I arrived I would be an asset as an experienced diver, that had proven his value as he worked for Glen a number of years.  I did not actually say that last part, but I could tell how the conversation went between the owners as the decision to transport the Integrity north by sea was made.  Glen must have made me sound even better than I really was to convince his partners, I was worthy.  I went on to add that I was not getting paid to deliver a boat, and that the Captain and first mate jumped ship, supposedly because of payment of wages was not forthcoming, and I became suspicious enough that a demand for payment of my services, was not unreasonable under the circumstances. I also thought that even if I did feel obligated to do the inspection, I was NOT obligated to do it for free. They seemed to accept this explanation and their attitude and body language relaxed.  It became apparent to me that these partners knew absolutely nothing about the Integrity.  They both were operating much smaller vessels, simultaneously while they were awaiting delivery of a newer bigger faster vessel as well. This was confirmed a couple weeks later, after we got underway for the appointment to the boat lift.  Dry dock was mandatory for the necessary repairs, so as we were approaching the narrow slot that would position us over the slings that would support the hull as the boat was lifted out of the water. Joe who was at the helm said "Mike I think you better take it from here, I am not used to these twin screws" So I was the hero as I easily used the throttles to steer the Integrity directly into the slot.  It was apparent that repairs could take sometime, so my services were available to the partners vessels.  The Hot Pursuit,  The Avril Q, and others.
      As it turned out the Integrity never did become the pick-up boat, it was sold to an outfit that used it for the clean-up in Alaska for a little oil spill that occurred that year courtesy of the Exxon  Valdez.

 

Battle Stations


 When I finally was relieved of my mess cook duty aboard the Glacier, I started standing Helm and lookout as well as messenger watches.  I also had to turn to, on the deck force during the day.  This was mostly grinding and sanding rust, painting, swabbing the deck and any other exposed surface as well as keeping all the brass polished on the bridge and anywhere else.  I was finally invited over to the crew that was being kind off secretive about what they were doing.  Turns out they were doing all the fancy work for the railings on the gangway and about the ship.  This work took a little skill and it was preferable to the other arduous tasks a seaman apprentice on the deck force was required to do.  It was wrapping this sticky hemp line around the railings in a series of half hitches that created a spiral pattern around the railings which provided a sure grip.  Then there were other more complicated knots at the various locations where the railing came to a 45 degree angle with the railing that proceeded in another direction, or at the end of the railing. These were called turks heads and they were a little more difficult to master.  When it was finished it was painted over and looked good  as well as being functional.  The BM2 let me get a little taste of that before I was back to the same old grind.  

Turks Head

         I finally was able to maneuver a project that kept me busy for several weeks though I could have done it in a few days.  I convinced the the Chief BM that the wooden supports that cradled the crane when it was not in use were rotten and that I could replace them.  So I had a project all to myself that during morning muster when the jobs were handed out I was able to oky doke Cheif Biel and I milked that project for all that it was worth.  It also gave me the opportunity to explore the different departments of the ship in my search for tools and material.  I took the initiative because I had worked on boats previously with Northern Marine Industries.  A friend of my fathers owed him a favor and employing me was the payback.  My father was a group supervisor at the Drug Enforcement Administration in Seattle.  Well apparently this 19 year old, Larry Latin would occasionally provide my dad with information that he could use to make the drug cases he was investigating.  Larry was a real entrepreneur.  He would buy these old wooden pleasure yachts and refurbish them to pristine condition and then sell them. Well Larry got himself into some trouble when he was offered $40,000 to launder $100,000 worth  of drug money.  Well Larry got in over his head, and my dad bailed him out in some way, and Larry was indebted to my dad.

      So my first day on the job I was caulking the decks of the Grotte Beir" This Gaudy River Yacht was almost as wide as long and was equipped with 2 massive flopper stoppers, and included a fireplace.  Herman Goering The famed leader of the Luftwaffe in Hitlers Nazi Germany, apparently had the yacht built. It was owned by Stuart Anderson the founder of the Black Angus Restaurant chain.  I did know it at the time but during discussions between my dad and Larry over my employment , we were invited to Larrys Yacht  The Viking for a lunch party out in Port Townsend.  I was introduced to Stuart Anderson who I had not a clue of who he was, until years later.  After lunch he even invited me to go canoeing with him which I did and was pleased with myself that he would invite me.  The Groote Beir  was not very practical  but looked magnificent all teak and Mahogany shiny with multiple layers of varnish.  That varnishing was a pain in the ass and a lot of work.  Sanding then applying the varnish in such a way it would not run, yet still cover the area.  These guys were so picky, I never did get very good at it. Caulking the decks was basically stuffing lines of cotton into the spaces between the deck boards with a chisel like tool and a mallet then running a bead of sealant on top of that.  After it dried, we had to trim it flush to the deck and make it look pretty. Then on from there, so I had some experience that gave me the confidence to proceed  Mr Anderson ended up donating the Vessel to the boy scouts, as maintaining the beast was costly
     My attitude rubbed some of the clan of Texas boys the wrong way. There was a gaggle of Texas boys that had there own little clique on the deck force and they were the favorites of the chief. However I was about gravitate toward this new BM2 that just transferred to the Glacier just before we got underway.  He just came off a buoy tender from Alaska.  Those crews earned there pay as that was quite a job lifting up those buoys, scraping all the barnacles and crustaceans off the bottom painting and repair any issues. Jim Clews knew he shit.  He was a no nonsense wiry lean sailor.  He used to jump in the ocean every day, rain or shine when ashore, watched his diet and he was an avid sport diver.  Well we bonded right away over that.  I had sent my gear down via greyhound, because the cost of taking it on the airplane was prohibitive. I had all brand knew gear, that my dad finally provided when he relented and handed me the credit card when he realized I was determined to pursue diving as a career, one way or the other, and said go get what you need.
      Well Jim saw that I would take our jobs seriously and I was used to working on pleasure yachts, where everything was meticulous and had to be just right for the rich boat owner to show off to his friends, that conflicted with shipboard routine where alot of the work was just invented to keep us busy, and the standards of workmanship were less than ideal.  I was adjusting and he helped me by explaining how things went.  He also could not stand the Texas boys.  They were mostly seaman and a few BM 3rd class. There was only one other BM2 on the deck force, then the chief and the first lieutenant. So even though Jim outranked them they were reluctant to carry out his orders, because they had seniority on the ship and Chief Biel generally backed them up.  Well this situation continued for a while until Jim finally had enough.  During morning muster after the Chief handed out the work assignments and was getting ready to dismiss the crew Jim piped up and informed the crew that he had something to say.  He proceeded to reading the riot act to those subordinates that undermined his authority and gave an accounting of how and why he had those stripes.  I could barely contain myself I was so tickled that he gave them a thorough tongue thrashing.  When he was done I looked at the Chief and he grudgingly backed up Jim but it was killing him.  He had no choice Jim was right and from then on he was my hero, and best friend on that voyage. 
       So the Deck force was divided in two or 3 factions. The Texas boys and there followers.  Jim and me and we recruited a couple of sailors that felt were ok.  Then the rest, that did not really stir up to much, regarding deck force politics.  I was trying to go to dive school, and by the looks of it, my opposition to the Texas boys was going to make that impossible. The Seaman that got to go was the Chiefs protege and he was being groomed to lead the deck force.  Sheritz was a big boy with a booming voice, but he did not appear to me to be much other than the Chiefs pet. He proved that to me when we were unloading the ammo over to a small boat on the side so they could take it ashore before we arrived in port for safety reasons.
      So one morning the deck force was ordered to the hanger on the flight deck.  Everyone was standing around not sure of what to do.  I had no clue, when someone said that he thinks we were suppose to us the pallet jacks to move the ammo out of the hanger, and on tho the flight deck where the crane could lower it over the side onto a small boat.  I finally got tired of standing around and grabbed a pallet jack and started stacking the pallets close to the edge of the flight deck.  The rest of the crew were unsure of my boldness, but when the brass started showing up they fell in line. So The BM2 was on-site to supervise the crane ops, as the operator lower a cargo net down and expected someone to commence with cargo off loading.
       By this time most of the deck force was present on the flight deck, as well as some other interested personnel.  The BM2 took charge of the tying the lifting knot  and then the load was hoisted off the deck and over the side to the LST standing by tied off to the ship.   Well as this load of ammo was lowering down, Seaman Sheritz the future deck force commandant, bumbled and fumbled the load and the ammo went crashing down on the deck of the LST, to Chief Biels embarrassment, as I am sure the first lieutenant and the Captain were watching the operation. Sheritz eventually recovered his manhood sufficiently to guide the remaining pallets to the deck and unhook the load for the crane to continue on to the remaining pallets.  Most of the deck force was just standing around watching, which was not unusual, after all this was a military operation.  I saw an opening to step up to the plate and  assist the BM2 who was distracted by something, so I got in there and tied off the ammo to the cargo net and hooked to the crane.  The BM2 looked relieved for the help, and so we just kinda took turns, until the ammo was safely loaded on to the LST.  I did'nt think too much of it at the time, I just cant stand standing around doing nothing during an operation.  It is kind of the nature of the beast.  The military assigns 30 people to do a 2 man job.  It was only later, after I passed the seaman's test and had enough time in, and all I needed was the required recommendation from my supervisor to confirm the promotion, which was not forthcoming.  So I submitted a chit, requesting that recommendation.  Then one morning Chief Biel summoned me and let me know in no uncertain terms that protocol for promotions does not allow a seaman apprentice to request the required recommendation. The recommendation if deserved, is initiated by the supervisor if all other requirements are met. After making it perfectly clear that my actions were improper, he informed me that he would go ahead and approve the promotion to seaman, due to my performance on the flight deck that day.
      Which brings me to the 50 caliber machine gun, that I and only 2 others out off 300 something ships company had the privilege to operate, during some practice battle ops.  We were close to the equator and the captain decided to drill us at battle stations, for fun really.  We were mostly scientific ops, and originally back-up to the Polar Star for the main break-in, although we did have to take that over when the reversible pitch screws the Polar class ships came equipped with, had some bugs to iron out before they became fully operational. Any way when the alarm sounded for battle stations, most of the deck crew had no idea where they were suppose to report. There was a chart located somewhere on the ship that designated battle station assignments.  It took sometime for me to locate that, and I thought if we were genuinely under attack, we probably would be on the bottom with Davy Jones locker right now.  Well eventually I found my assignment was Gunner and that I was to report to the bridge.  I thought how in the hell would they make me a gunner?  I was practically blind in my right eye, though I did manage to qualify as marksman on the 45 caliber pistol, in boot camp.  I was surprised that a majority of my company did not qualify.  I had the disadvantage of having to aim with my good left eye, and I was right handed. So I would have to place my whole face on the opposing side of the weapon, so my left eye would be looking down the sight, so my right hand would pull the trigger.  None of this occurred to me at the time.  None of my instructors ever noticed how the mechanics of my shooting, was ass backwards, and it was a miracle that I could shoot accurate at all. It especially was painful and frustrating when I would shoot a bow and arrow. When I would release the bow string/ my face received a string burn as it traveled across my face.  This stuff only donned on me many years later.  So i came to the conclusion that my marksman status was good enough to make me a gunner on USCGC Glacier.  I reported to the bridge, and the XO had the throttle controls, repeating back the order "all ahead full aye aye sir, as he clanged the helm messenger.  The Glacier was doing donuts around a 50 gallon drum, and the gunner was about 1000 yards away which I found out, was the size of a pea on the ocean.  The swell challenged the gunner to time his bursts accordingly, but the splashes of those 50 cal rounds just skipped over the drum.  The Brass was having a lot of fun putting that old ice breaker thru its paces.  All the sudden the XO, commander Taylor ordered me to replace the helmsman.  I got the impression he was not performing up to the standards expected and I was more than happy to make donuts with that massive 300 ft ice breaker around the drum, as I repeated the orders "Right full rudder Aye Aye sir"  then immediately followed by "left full rudder"  "left full rudder aye aye sir" rudder is left full sir"..and on it went.  Then it was my turn to take a crack at it.  I was ordered to man the guns, while are lone gunners mate, instructed me how to operate that, what seemed like a cannon.  I was taken by the power of that gun.  I just touched the trigger and FOOOT ..FOOOT  FOOOT FOOOT  about 8 rounds splashed the water somewhere in the same time zone at that tiny drum bobbing up and down in the south pacific ocean,  They circled around and I tried again, but that speck if I would have hit it would cut it in half.  Finally the senior Gunner took my place and they motored up to that drum, until it was right next to the Glacier and he finally nailed it just before the gun jammed.  That was the end of the  Battle drill, and probably the most fun I had on that voyage.

      

adventure in Pt Arena

Adventure in Pt Arena

Pt Arena.

        When I pulled into Pt. Arena an 8 ft set of nearly perfect waves were just rolling in one right after the other. A surfer who I found out later was none other than Michael Fair once close friend of mine, caught a nice one on the south side of the pier and rode it all the way in, classic, there were 25 or 30 boats on moorings outside the pier and a crowd of people on the shore . Surfers and divers. The divers not working because of the huge swell. Some people think underwater would not be affected, but trust me it is. Though if you can find the right kind of bottom, and the urchins in the right place you could work it, but you will be thrown around some, hopefully in the right places.

       I was in my 65 International pick-up with my Alaskan camper in the bed, stocked with food, propane, gasoline and all my dive gear. I got word that it was going off here, so I needed to find a boat.

       Now Pt Arena was a one horse town along the north coast of California, Nothing much going on except logging and fishing, long since past the heyday of those industries. Marijuana growing was big, but not legal. The local young people wanted to get out of town as soon as possible, except now the place was inundated with young southern California divers with lots of money to spend, and they did. The urchin fishery gave that town a big shot in the arm economically.  That little town sure needed it.

       In a day or two the swell came down and the fleet was underway. That night there were 5 tractor trailer refrigerated lined up on the pier, awaiting to load the urchins. As many as 5 to 10 boats waiting, impatient divers and tempers, bags swinging boats clanging ,divers jumping to the ladders and spectators. There were even groupies ...well sort of that's what some of us called them. The local girls hanging out giddy with excitement at all the activity suddenly going on in there boring little town

       I was trying to hustle a boat, I found one right away. The vessel looked OK from a distance out on the mooring, but as I realized this old wooden sinker was not what I had in mind. I picked 1 bag and I was not about to contribute any more weight to this operation. I ended up on the Reefer Star a boat I was familiar with from Channel Islands, and I knew the skipper well, Mike Moore was a good skipper and I made a few trips..but I guess he overbooked and I was kinda bumped off. Well Mike apologized to me, and that was kool.

So I targeted Vince Pulio on the Sea Breeze. Vince said sure, he had Franco but he could work all of us. Well the following day Vince reluctantly told me that Franco was so upset about me joining the crew, that he threatened to quit. He explained that Franco had been with him a long time, blah blah blah. I was livid with anger at Franco and when I saw him, I confronted him..calling every name I could think of and I flicked my cigarette at him. He did not like me anyway, and being on the boat was threatening his position. He did not take the bait and walked away, but I insulted, and disrespected him in front of everybody. I know he was embarrassed.

       Vince Pulio was a short tempered Sicilian, who had a reputation of treating his crew like Capt. Bligh. However he was very successful and a hard worker. He also had a nice east coast style boat, and Franco was messing with my livelihood and I was not going to take that lightly. I guess there was a meeting of the minds, because the next day Mike Moore approaches me and suggested that Franco and I trade boats. Even though I was bumped 1 day off the Reefer Star I was still in the rotation, so to speak. So Franco went to the Reefer Star and I was on the Sea Breeze. Vince said he was so embarrassed and upset he had to tell me no after he already said yes. He made Francos life a living hell for giving him the ultimatum. He also said he was so relieved to get rid of Franco, putting up with his tardiness and other things.

I did well with Vince, he was not too bad to work for, the temper was there but not too bad and I made a lot of money. He also proved he could defend his boat. The tender on the Reefer Star was Jimmy Grant. I knew Jimmy had some dealings with him, but I was not his favorite person after he tended me. He was a good tender, but a little pushy and a aggressive and I was not in the mood for that. Any way the bad blood between me and Franco metastasized when those two started talking and it came to a head one day. I was driving my Truck threw town and Jimmy was behind me tailgating in his 1950 something jalopy. I braked suddenly to get him off my ass and he rear ended me. His radiator was gone , but my truck was fine he hit my huge beefy bumper..he was so mad he took a swing at me and I just got in my truck and bailed.

        Well the next day he was insisting I pay for the damage and I just laughed. “You rear ended me, so its your fault for being to close.” I avoided him because he was a hot head and he was telling everyone that would listen he was going to collect one way or the other. Then out in the moorings one day he sees me on the Seabreeze and jumps on the dinghy and motors up to the boat, yelling like he is going to attack me. He puts one foot one the boat and lets go of the line to the dinghy, sets it adrift. All of a sudden, over my shoulder Vince flies and chest tackles Jimmy who was much larger. Jimmy falls back SLAM on the deck both feet in the air. He was done, he had to wait for someone off the Reefer Star to retrieve the Dinghy, as he sheepishly withdrew. Mike Moore apologized to me again for letting that happen.

       So began the Saga of point Arena. I camped out by the pier for awhile until the cops started hassling us so I found the Rollerville campground, where a bunch of divers had settled in. Known for its night raccoons and grouchy owner. It was a hook-up and a shower so it sufficed while I continued my musical boat escapade. Turns out Vince was getting ready to sell the SeaBreeze so he had made plans to accommodate the prospective buyer with a spot on the boat. It was true I had heard second hand but I will have to give Vince credit , he found me a boat before he let me go.

       The Fuji III was owned by Mick McHenry. I was well acquainted with Mick and the Fuji III, although not this version. The boat was solid aluminum and Mick had inherited it from his father who was an early pioneer. I had worked on the boat when it was 3 feet shorter and had a mid-engine Chrysler marine gas engine that was constantly breaking down.

       There was a huge fish hold and a pipe frame sat on top to accommodate the cargo net. The pilot house was open, except for the canvas cover that kept out the worst of the weather. Tough and sea worthy, the boat sat on blocks for years after Mick quit the business for a few years to pursue more steady consistent employment.

When the urchin business started to become more lucrative, Mick had to resort to hardball tactics to retake ownership of the Fuji III. Jumping a fence and some harsh language were involved, but he retained ownership, then lengthened the boat 3 feet and installed a V-drive, with a Cummins diesel package that Toni Athens installed. Much improved the boat and when I headed up to Fort Bragg where the Fuji III was docked, I felt satisfied that I was taken care of with continued employment.

        Mick was a curly blond headed, blue eyed southern Californian, with enough tough Irishman to complete the package. He could charm the pants off many girls as his daughters grew up to have movie star good looks, to prove that. He married a local fort Bragg girl who came from one of the logging clans in the area and she used to tend for us once in a while, which was in keeping with his family oriented operation. I worked on his boat longer than most, but he was a sporadic worker. I wasn't getting rich but I had a steady boat.

       Mick kept his boat on the mooring in Pt. Arena for a while that summer, but he was nervous about it and we ended up working out of Ft. Bragg at the end of the season. That fall he planned to take the boat back down south, so off we went. He said I could park my truck in his back yard but when I flew back to retrieve it he had locked the gate so I was trapped in. So I just locked up the hubs and 4 X4 right over the top of his old fence and out the bushes till I hit the road. He was not too happy about that , but I was not too happy about getting locked in either. I helped him build a new one the next summer, so his feelings were not too hurt. 
      I went back to Pt Arena towing a 35 ft house trailer and a wife, and a pure bred Golden Retriever. Shadow was able to climb those bull pine trees, when I placed the Frisbee strategically up in the branches, sometimes getting down was a problem.  We ended up at the Manchester KOA, which was a beautiful place about 5 miles north of Pt Arena.  There was an idyllic trail through the wetlands, down to the black sand beach.  Shadow would just barrel through the tall grass and then charge into those 4 ft waves after the Frisbee.  He showed absolutely no fear of those waves and sometimes I would worry about him until I saw his head bob up with his teeth clenched around that Frisbee.
      When winter came that year, my wife Linda did not want to leave.  She had been working at the fish market and was meeting new friends.  I told her the weather would turn and the tourists would leave and the off season would be rainy boring and nothing to do.  I left the big trailer there , since we had a smaller one stored in the trailer park in Buelton.  I did not relish the thought of towing that beast of a heavy trailer back down to Southern California, and this set up was more convenient. Never did make it back to dive after that, just was not in the cards and that new July closure, rendered the northerly migration less desirable.  I think that was by design. Turn the Page.