Channel Islands vs Santa Barbara

TORPEDO/ELECTRIC RAY

CHANNEL ISLANDS VS SANTA BARBARA

       Channel Islands Harbor,  is situated just 11 miles from the east end of Anacapa Island,Consequently much of the sea urchin fleet fished down the coast, Deer creek, Leo Carrillo, County Line then Anacapa Island, depending on the weather conditions.Coastal diving did not have the appeal diving at the islands had , especially during Red Tide. The ocean was less than  inviting when those red tides showed up down the coast. It was even more spooky when the electric rays that populated much of the coastal bottom would hover around. Those rays did not care to move out of the way, like most of the other sea life, and the thought of getting shocked by one was not a pleasant thought while struggling to find sea urchins. Those rays would just hover and I kept them in the corner of my eye.  If my attention was distracted, I would regain focus only to find them hovering a little closer.  Several times, I am a little embarrassed to admit I found a big boulder and dropped it on top of them.  Did not kill them but ruined their world for a minute. 

       One memorable trip, I was discussing with another diver who claimed to be ex-Underwater Demolition Team, about the 60 volt shock of electricity the rays could produce. He decided he just did not believe that harmless looking ray could really shock a diver. I thought it was ridiculous for him to doubt the fact since all the marine literature available clearly confirmed that indeed the rays could produce the electric shock sufficient to incapacitate a diver for a few seconds.

      As it turned out ironically and appropriately, on the following jump, we just happen to be descending down on opposite sides of the anchor line about the same time and lo and behold, what should appear than my nemesis the bothersome electric ray just below the doubting diver! I looked over at him and he looked at me as he extended his hand out and contacted the ray. I laughed so hard I spit my regulator out, as he jerked spastically as the 60 volts ran through his arm.

He was extremely embarrassed afterward and me an Gary had another good laugh or two telling the tale at the unloading dock.

    Thankfully the Red tides did not occur that often, but I still preferred the islands, because the diving conditions were just better.........

      As time went on the local urchin beds were getting thin and some of the Channel Islands boats were venturing to the outer Islands. On those further trips it became more practical and cheaper on fuel, to unload in Santa Barbara. Unloading in Santa Barbara was a little bit different than unloading in Channel Islands.

       Channel Islands boats simply had one crew member operate the hoist, and the truck driver from the processor would hold the line attached to the end of the hoist, and swing the load over truck when it reached the appropriate height, then climb onto the truck and pull the barrel knot under the bag of urchins and so on. It also was not too difficult to operate the hoist and swing the crane around as well and much of the time that is how it went. The truck driver would write down the weights on the fish ticket and usually the boat owner would keep track of the weights as well. When the urchins were unloaded the total was added up fish ticket signed, slam dunk.

Once we started unloading in Santa Barbara, we came to find that there was a broker, Wes Carpenter. Wes would unload all the boats fill out the fish tickets, as well as pass out the checks from the different processors as well. He would get a percentage for this service...I think it was ¾ of a cent per pound.

       Some of the processors were not willing to pay Wes for unloading the Channel Islands based boats they bought from, as when unloading in Channel Islands there was no “broker” that unloaded the boats,so one of the 3 hoists was relinquished for unloading those boats. Now Wes had a pretty good relationship with the buyers and he was able to make some pretty lucrative deals. He did not seem to put out that a few out of town operations were not going along with his program, during his heyday he was doing pretty well. If anyone gave him a hard time he could make unloading your sea urchins an ordeal as he controlled the 3 hoists and he directed the truck traffic so rarely did anyone cross him. Besides that Wes was generally a likable guy and he and his helpers made it easier to offload, and after a long day diving that was appreciated by many.

     There were times during the heyday of the urchin harvest when the processors became oversupplied and had to restrict the tonnage they received so they could catch up processing the supply on-hand. Wes would relay this to the boats and there was a lot of politics involved with which boats could work certain days and which boats could not work those days.

Some of the divers were disgruntled from the arbitrary system that restricted days they could dive. One in particular was about to do something about it in a big way. The urchin business was about to get a big shake-up that generally was good for the business as a whole, although there were some did not appreciate the change for different reasons, but they were in the minority as far as I know.

Andres was originally from Spain. He spoke with an accent, and he was serious about diving for sea urchins. Generally friendly, he was among the many unique characters that populated the urchin diving fleet. Andres did not like being told which days he could work and which days he could not, especially by Wes Carpenter.

      Andres had a brother that entered the scene and he started talking to us about buying urchins. He suggested that we rate the quality of our urchins 1-10. He went on to say that by being honest about our quality he would be able to guarantee us a better price in the market. Well shortly after that, Andres acquired a large vessel he would use as a pick-up boat. He said that anyone that sells to him could offload on the pick-up boat, so as not to have to run the urchins to Santa Barbara and then keep on working, and saving on fuel as well. Andreas was able to locate some investors that put up a substantial sum of money to open a processing plant. I heard he had some family back in Spain that were wealthy, but he was very persuasive and convincing. I agreed with Greg owner of the Vista Clara, my current vessel du jour, to sell our urchins to Andres. It worked out well for us. I remember getting a lot more for our urchins than we were getting, though sometimes the checks were a little late in coming.

      If my memory serves me, Andres was able to buy quite a bit of market share for 4 or 5 years. Wes Carpenters world was shaken up, that was clear. The offloading operation got quite hectic and complicated. The boats were in a line depending on when they arrived in the Harbor, but the processors trucks would want to off load all their boats before they drove the truck off the pier. The jockeying around the other trucks, just to wait for another boat, and go thru that process again was a practice of patience. Remaining calm in that morass of trucks and boats was a challenge. Once when a truck driver disappeared when it was our turn to offload I jumped in the drivers seat and was preparing to move it out of the way, when the driver showed up he could see the displeasure, on my face and said nothing.

       Andres' fall was as swift as his rise. All of a sudden he disappeared owing quite a bit of money, as his business venture went belly up. I saw him in Santa Barbara harbor several years later. He was walking, by Marina 2 with a fancy suit on. I almost did not recognize him, when I did he got a big smile on his face and said something to the effect that he lost 1 million dollars. He bounced back and restored his old boat Josephina, with all the bells and whistles you would want on a dive boat. I was getting my boat together at that time and he would stop by and help me with advice and information, cause he knew I was a diver for 20 years before I became an owner. He maintained his sense of humor through it all, and I had to admire the guy. He tragically succumbed in a diving accident, a few years back. Rest in Peace Andres

s.

Shipwreck

THE SINKING OF THE FAT CITY OCTOBER 1985

      The Fat City, a converted Louisiana Bayou shrimper, my current vessel du jour, was tucked in tight,Talcot Shoals Santa Rosa Island , Channel Islands California. We were just finishing up an epic day, diving for Sea Urchins.  Little swell allowed us to get into about 25 feet of water.  The urchins were bunched a up along these waist to shoulder high reefs, that could not of been more perfect for knocking the urchins off directly into the net sack.
      I was tired having been in the water most of the day and I was looking forward to the 30 mile voyage to home port Santa Barbara Ca.  I estimated we were loaded with about 10,000 lbs of sea urchins on-board; Mike Fair and I realized towards the end of the day we had picked about the same number of bags, as we were both swimming together admiring that huge pile of urchins on the boat, and Bill with that huge grin on his face, happier than a pig in shit.

      Bill Williams was an old school oil patch hand and tool pusher, from Bakersfield, but had that Oklahoma accent, that somehow stuck with some of those Okies, a generation after they migrated west during the "Dust Bowl” and "The Great Depression" Bill and his wife Frances, grew tired of that heat and dust and grime from the oil patch and decided to give commercial fishing a try. Those people would do anything for you if you asked. Very kind generous and considerate. Bill wasn't much of a waterman, but he loved the ocean and the Channel Islands, and he could take a diesel motor apart and put it back together, as well as any other kind of motor, valuable skill to have in commercial fishing, especially if you didn't have all the right tools or parts, because when your not located close to the local auto parts store you got to make do with what you had, and he sure could do that all right.

        Well after Mike and I discussed who probably had the most weight , Bill looked at us with that precious grin and said “Im satisfied, if your satisfied” Apparently Mike was not satisfied he was far enough ahead of me in weight because he looked at me and said “I m getting another one” whether that was a challenge, or my ego could not let that go, or both, I replied “so am I.” We were in the water all day in about 20 ft, with very few breaks because this was the bonanza all sea urchin divers dream about and we were going to take full advantage of that window of opportunity before it closed.

       We would never know who won that competition on as Posiden decided to take that load back.

We were about 5 miles out of Santa Barbara when the boat took a sudden 45 degree starboard list and capsized. Probably more weight than that Louisiana Bayou shrimper should take in these waters, although it was rated for that tonnage. All of us, except Bill, who had the helm watch went from a dead sleep to in the water within 10 minutes and the boat sunk from under our feet as we were scrambling to stay on the boat while it was rolling until it was upside down and we were standing on the hull. I managed to get a Mayday call off on channel 16 as I helped Mike out of the cabin. The water was coming in so fast I probably saved him from going down with the boat. He managed to get the bottoms of a wet suit, before the boat sank, but the rest of us had nothing. I kicked my shoes off and took my shirt off so I could swim better, but the water was cold, it was October at night.

I could hear the Coast Guard respond, but by that time it was too late to confirm. Amazingly Bill maintained his sense of humor and optimism as he was struggling to keep his head above water. His reaction:"Well it looks like I get a new boat" Mike decided to attempt to swim in, and I was going with him, wet suit or no, but I decided that it would be better for me stay back and help Bill, who was not that great of a swimmer. After a couple hours of holding on to the back of his pants and feeble attempts at encouragement, we were not making much progress toward shore and I was already tired from the long day. Bill started depending on me to keep him afloat, and I had to let him go. I have a lot of guilt and shame over that decision; I had a lot of love and respect for that man. He kept calling out to me not to leave him, but I had to make sure I was going to make it at that point.

      Later on I found out that members of  the urchin fleet coming in that night heard my Mayday call and knew we were out there floating around in the water, somewhere they said they would stop at the estimated coordinates of our last known position, then turn their engines off and yell our names so they could better hear us and visa versa.  Visibility was good, as far as the lights of Santa Barbara, but if you were looking at the ocean, on that moonless night it was so dark you could barely see 10 ft. It seemed like Bill was calling out to me forever after I left him, and it was killing me, but I look back and I realize I had heard the other crews calling my name, and I was ignoring them because I thought it was Bill still crying out to me not to leave him. Anyway Mike finally made it in, and the Coast Guard sent the Pt. Judith out. I spotted the parachute flare they had deployed then started swimming toward them. I was eventually rescued by the Harbor Patrol. I figure I swam about halfway in. I psyched myself out by imagining I was in Hawaii, just out for a midnight swim like Magnum P.I. There were to hotties on the beach waiting with mai tais. It was when they pulled me out of the water I went into shock I was shaking so badly from the cold.

      They searched for Bills body for a couple days, they never did find him, but I will be forever tortured with the fact that If I had stayed with Bill a little longer, he might still be alive today I am blessed that I knew him, and if you look at the fisherman memorial in Ventura Harbor, you can see his name, I made sure of that.

       I stayed with the widow Frances for a while and paid the rent for her until her insurance kicked in. She was devastated. Bill was the world to her, she was not very attractive, but Bill really loved her, and she was never the same after his death.

they missed the vessel name FAT CITY AND THEY GOT THE YEAR WRONG 1985

      20 some odd years later, I was in Ventura Harbor watching some construction. There was a lady working on something, so I asked her what she was building. She said she was sculpting a Fisherman’s Memorial for all the fisherman that lost their lives at sea in the area. I asked if she had the Fat City and Bill Williams on her list. She said she did not. I told her the story and she asked me to come to her office and I gave her all the details I could remember. She included the Fat City on the memorial and is still there the last time I looked.

fools anchorage

Fools Anchorage

        Fools anchorage in Santa Barbara is unique in California . It is the only place left where you can actually anchor your boat, overnight for as long as you want, close to a harbor for free. During the summer months they allow you to anchor fairly close to Stearns wharf, but in the winter months the boats are required to anchor down by the cemetery a mile or so south of the pier They're are a number of absentee owners of various sailboats of all sizes, that end up finding there sailboats up on the beach when the South Easterly storms blow through in the winter and spring. It is common to see 3 or 4 sometimes 5 and 6 sailboats up on the beach after such storms and it is fairly routine for the Harbor Patrol to dispose of them when the owners cant afford, or don't wish to afford salvaging their sailboats. Usually the anchor gear was old or inadequate, and thus the name Fools anchorage. Another feature of Fools anchorage is it is populated by the seedy homeless people that find ways of surviving out on the anchorage though they have to row in, or if they are lucky have a little outboard. I was unaware of this fact, as there were some fairly expensive sailing yachts out there as well. That slice of ignorance, would comeback to haunt me sooner rather than later.

            Jeff Cochran was an urchin diver that I was acquainted with over the years we had our ups and downs, but the little escapade that he pulled was a little over the top even for him. I was anchored in Fools anchorage one day. It was a beautiful winter day and I was just relaxing on the boat when I hear someone yell “Hey Mike what are you doing” I popped out of the cabin and it is Jeff Cochran with a big old smile on his face. What the.....? He said he “borrowed” someones dinghy when he saw my boat and rowed out to say hi. I was a bit surprised he would go thru all that trouble, just to say hi. Anyway we were bullshitting about the urchin business when another dinghy approached us, and inside rowing was a giant of a sun browned, tattooed (The prison kind) man, gesturing and waving and pointing and when he got close enough yelling that the dinghy that Jeff acquired was his. Jeff a little embarrassed, explained that he had written a note in the sand and he would return the dinghy in a little bit. So I was a little miffed that Jeff would bring this kind of attention down on me. I certainly did not need any help in that department. So there was some banter back and forth. At one point the man in the dinghy who I learned was called Pirate. That should have been a red flag right there, I lamented later. So after Pirate and Jeff concluded there negotiations, as to what kind of compensation Pirate should receive in lieu of use of the dinghy, I relaxed a little because at one point someone mentioned calling the Harbor Patrol. That is something I did not need. Jeff never did compensate Pirate for use of his dinghy, but if he knew then, what I know now he would have taken care of that agreement.

             That was my introduction to Pirate. He had come up from San Diego with a crew of scallywags.....about 5 of them I believe. There appearance I would describe homeless hippie chic. So this colorful cast of characters, Pirate being their leader, hatched a scheme  to place bids at he lien sale auctions, the small boat harbors that dotted Southern California coast north of San Diego. held every so often. It is common for owners of the sailboats to fall behind on there slip fees. Although they may have acquired the sailboat at a very reduced price.....the biggest cost over time is the slip fees, and many owners fall into that trap and end up having there boats seized and sold at auction, where the cycle begins again, or a perfectly seaworthy sailboat is cut up and hauled away as trash.
         Pirate and his motley crew set out from San Diego, and by the time the little flotilla reached Santa Barbara, all five had a sailing vessel to anchor in Fools anchorage.  They could anchor them for nothing,and could live on them, or try and sell them with the added sales pitch of no slip fees. It was a reasonable plan, and they did get some pretty decent boats for next to nothing. It was more the quality of character of those scallywags that left the plan a little wanting. I believe the San Diego Harbor  Patrol sent word to their counterparts that "the fleet" was headed their direction.

        I began making urchin trips on my boat the Longfin. The 33 ft, 8 ton vessel, with no anchor winch was a giant pain in arms and legs, literally. It was also hard to keep a diver when pulling that hook by hand, 2 ,3, 4 or more times was exhausting, and when I was by myself, forget it. If I had to pull that hook 2 or 3 times, I just wanted to quit. Especially in the kelp, which was most of the time. I had been bugging Kieth Whitney( my main mechanic/all around go to guy for boat and urchin gear) to complete the job. He said he had to fabricate a piece that would serve as a mount,for the hydraulic motor. It would have to be positioned so it would line up with the engine fan belt. I could do most of the rest of the work myself. He finally ended up taking the winch off his boat, that he just lived on. Having given up on fishing. The anchor winch made all the difference and Kieth mounted a switch on the dash so I could activate the winch from there, which was a godsend when I was by myself which was more than anticipated.

         So Finally the Longfin was an official Sea Urchin Dive Boat . It took almost two years by the time I was through Unfortunately my timing was wrong, because right about the same time the price of fuel went up and the economy took a dive. I was struggling to break even, and to save on slip fees I would anchor in Fools anchorage.

           After going in and out in my boat and dinghy, over time I got to know Pirate and he had a very soft spoken demeanor for such a big man, but the content of his observations was clearly non-conformist, which slightly appealed to me. He had spent most of the part of 20 years in prison, but had been smart enough to stay out for the last 10. He was very resourceful and had his way with people in general.

             Pirate of course would ask me where Jeff was and why he did not pay him, which I played dumb, not mad enough at Jeff to send this guy after him. I inevitably asked Pirate to tend for me since, I was having trouble finding and keeping a crew together. He was good on the water but not much practical knowledge of a commercial operation to make my life easier, and the trip was less than successful. For him it was very successful in that he got a good look at all my gear and what is was used for and how much it might be worth.

       On the occasions where I did get a slip, I was often put into the end at Marina 4 right next to this beautiful old sailing yacht 40 something feet and the occupant was Westerly. Westerly was a beautiful blond with blue eyes. Classic California girl look, she still looked great into her 40's though she did have flaws. She was in a bad traffic accident about 10 years before and she had a glass eye, but no other physical effects one would notice. The first time I met her she came over to my slip and said the radio was too loud. Had I known that she was there I would not have had it that loud, but she was nice about it and eventually we became friendly. She would ask me to look at something on her boat that was not working properly and I fixed a couple little small things. The inside of the her sailing yacht was custom made by her father. Just beautiful workmanship, teak and mahogany cabinets and drawers. He was in his 90's and lived in a Multi-million dollar home overlooking Leadbetter beach in Santa Barbara. She grew up sailing as her name implies. She was teaching at the high school part time, as she said she still had some lingering effects from the accident that prevented her from taking on a full workload.

        I had not seen Westerly for a few months,when one day I was sitting in my truck and she walked by and asked me to drive her vehicle to her fathers and I could follow her there in another vehicle, that she needed to use. I agreed and when it task was completed she invited me to go for a sail to Smugglers Cove in her new sailboat. Her fathers being of museum quality was sold to a restorer who would bring it back to her former glory. I said that would be fun and I thought maybe she would be romantically inclined as well.

She was a little surprised when I showed up at the agreed time with a tri- tip and a bottle of special edition Myers rum.

I had a good trip on the Longfin I was able to get a really good diver Pat McCallion who along with Johnny Goomer, we put 3000 lbs on the boat. When she saw that I was serious she fired up the motor and we backed out of the slip and headed out towards the breakwater. There was not much wind so we just motored out. She had a GPS but no radar and of course it fogged in just as we were getting to Santa Cruz Island. I kind of guessed about anchoring , but there was no wind so I figured we would be safe a mile or so out. I even deployed a second anchor just to be safe. There was no wind and the fog was thick....I was only worried that if another boat came thru... but they probably had radar and they would not hit us. The only problem was her anchor gear consisted of 300 foot of chain I found out the hard way as it was paying out. To top it off she had an an electric anchor winch that I could not get to work, and I am sure nobody else had either. Oh we were safe alright, but she was freaking out in the fog and she stayed up all night fearful. I told her to wake me up to take an anchor watch but she never did.

The following morning the fog was letting up and we could see the island. We were a mile from shore. Westerly and I were able to pull the second anchor. There was a hand winch on the bow with the main anchor. I took a several dozen cranks on it and it would eventually of pulled up all that chain by the middle of next week, That is if I did not have a stroke first.

        The NOAA research boat, Shearwater was on the radio, so we requested assistance, Westerly had introduced me to Paul who was the skipper, so he was more than happy to help us. Trouble was even his anchor winch was straining to get all that chain up. Then the line snapped before he ever got to the chain. So we headed in. Westerly was not happy. I explained to her that much chain was overkill, and without a working winch to bring it aboard, forget it.

We had a brief respite from our uncomfortable voyage in, when a whales tail popped up right next to the boat. The rest was her blaming me for everything and the loss of her expensive anchor was my responsibility.

         So I rowed out to my boat in Fools anchorage. The next morning I woke to the sound of my boat on the beach. I rushed out on deck and opened the engine room...flooded....I called the Harbor Patrol and they were in there truck on the beach..I gathered all my important papers, and all the tools and jumped over the side my anchor light was still lit . After I ferried the most valuable items to the beach in my underwear no less. I must have been quite a spectacle. Then I grabbed the anchor line and found the end. The pin was missing from the shackle. I had just checked the anchor gear and wired it, so it would not come loose. I knew this was no accident.

         I took one last look at my boat the anchor light still on with an engine room full of salt water, the small but consistent surf slowly breaking her apart and I walked away, I knew the Longfin was a total loss. I was out of money and out of energy, I jumped in the Harbor Patrol 4x4 and I tried not to cry.

         I wish I could say, it was one hell of a storm that caused the my boat to be grounded ashore, but it was as flat as a mirror that night, that pin could have been out of that shackle for hours. What are the odds that Pirate “came to my rescue" and took as much dive gear and electronics etc etc.. that he could.” He reported that one of the crew members off the dredge salvaged my air compressor. I tracked him down and got 50 bucks from him. He said he had it pickled in his garage...I dejectedly took the 50 bucks. Pirate used the oldest trick in the book, scuttle the vessel and rob the valuables. There is no doubt in my mind he rowed his dinghy up to my anchor line pulled it up to the chain and removed the shackle. Everyone in the anchorage knew I was going to the Islands overnight, because before we left I had Westerly motor over to Jerrys boat. I handed him a 100 dollar bill, payment for tending for me one trip. I said to myself “why do you think they call him Pirate." Armed with that useless knowledge ...It still could not get my boat back. What a fool I was in Fools anchorage.     I retired from the urchin business that day. 25 years was enough.

Spirit 1

                                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.  
      

      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.