Below the Antarctic Circle

Below the Antarctic Circle

Almost there...Mt Erebus                             USCGC Polar Star Dead in ther water awaiting

McMurdo Station USCGC Glacier              The Glaciers Triumphant takeover of the main

                                                                            break in.

Suddenly I felt something hitting the ship. I looked up at the Chiefs and 1^st class sailors I was playing poker with, and they just grinned and said “ we are here” Then they suggested I look out the porthole. I gazed at the chunks of ice called “floes” Not big enough to qualify as a “Berg” but numerous enough that there was no avoiding them completely, and staying on course at the same time. It was about midnight and the sun was still above the horizon.  I could see ahead where the ice became solid.  I assumed it was land and the continent we were heading for, but much to my surprise it was not, it was the “fast ice” we were about to break thru. Initially 26 miles of it, from 6 to 12 feet thick. It took us 3 weeks of backing and ramming, to cover that distance. I know because one of my duties was to climb over the side on a Jacobs ladder every hour during my watch. Equipped with a can of red spray paint and a fishing pole, which had markings every 3 feet or so that enabled us to record the distance we had progressed. One man would hold the fishing pole adjacent the bow of the ship. Paint a red X at his feet, and the other would take the end of the fishing line and run it back to the previously marked X. The distance was recorded in the log and back up the ladder. I was thinking I could cover 26 miles walking backwards in less time that I would take the aging Icebreaker backing and ramming.

That night as I stood watch freezing my ass off in the 1^st lieutenants office I started a poem using the rime of the Ancient Mariner as a template.

White white everywhere

Back and Ram with crushing care

Thru the Ice we carve

So McMurdo doesn't starve

12 FEET THICK WE BREAK

WISH IT WAS A PIECE OF CAKE

Ensign Wood has the Con

Challenging this mighty Lawn

splashing red against the white

Glacier groans with all her might

penguins and seals cant out run

the metal beast against the sun

THE OFFICERS LIKE KEEPING SCORE

ADDING TO THIS ICY LORE

20 trips have been made

by this future razor blade

When were done well turn around

then back and ram another round

     As it turns out one of my duties aboard ship as a seaman apprentice, ( soon to be promoted to full Seaman) was to stand lookout watches.  Normally a lookout watch would station himself outside of the bridge, or sometimes during the fog up on the foc'sule ( Forecastle) which is the bow of the ship.  However, special circumstances aboard an icebreaker require the lookout standing watch in the Ross Sea  ascend to the Loft Con which in so many words is a glorified crows nest on steroids. It is enclosed with lights heat radar and a helm  and compass a miniature pilot house about 3/4 the way up the stack.  during actual ice breaking operations the officer of the watch stands duty in the loft con so he has a birds eye view of the ice and the best way to negotiate the solid fast ice that just looks like part of the land except frozen white.  Until that time the lookout watch stands duty in the loft con, which was my privilege to be instructed to climb up the inside of the stack in a near gale, to the aforementioned loft con. The pitch black darkness and the frozen metal inside the stack made this duty a little challenging.  I just kept climbing until I bumped my  head on a hatch with a handle, so I turned it pushed up climbed up on the platform that thankfully had a railing, and held on for dear life. The the wind was blowing about 30 knots in about a 20 foot sea, at night.  Then as the Glacier listed to one side. It seemed like an eternity before she rocked back the other,way. I was having the ride of my life, and I soon realized I was in the wrong place. I skedaddled back down into the stack and eventually located the hatch of the loft con, thankful to find it heated and lit. I suspected that the barely muffled chuckles of mirth I later heard from the bridge watch , probably gave away that they may have had something to do with the fact that the light that was supposed to indicate the loft con hatch, was suddenly not working at that convenient time. At least I did not go searching for the relative bearing grease or the sea chest, or the proverbial brass magnet. I considered the episode another unofficial initiation. 
    Back to the poker game. I must admit I had played a game of poker or two, when I was in high school, but I was about to get schooled in the art/science of gambling.  Made even more relevant, in the scheme of things, as I was sequestered with 300 men underway aboard ship.  Our salaries were payed in cash and we really had no where really to spend money, except in the tiny ships store which they opened up only occasionally. The Filipino cooks were my nemesis and my lesson in gambling was expensive, but I always agreed one has to pay for an education and pay for it I did. One very important lesson I learned, was how and why those Filipinos won so much money and more importantly how they won so much of my money. The answer was they cheated. Now they were good at it, and I did not actually catch them cheating, and I cant say that cheating was the only reason that they won, but it was revealed to me, by my supervisor who happen to be the Captains cook. 1st Class Shit Slinger ( I cant even remember what the S.S. really stands for) Filipino.  I think he decided to take me under his wing as he was counting my pay, along with his other winnings. Maybe because I was so determined and committed to losing. Even though I won some too, I was quite a spectacle as I was as hooked as a gutter heroin addict. Or maybe he was looking for a partner, as I found out, they work in teams sometimes, which makes their cheating even more effective.
        There were 3 separate poker games. 1 for E-5 and under. 1 for chiefs and 1st class, and 1 for the officers and I never saw that game.  The stakes of the games increased in relation to rank, and we played payday stakes which means there was no money on the table.  We played with chips and someone kept the books, who was called the "Banker"  and on payday the losers payed up, or were suppose to.  It could get very uncomfortable to those who avoided responsibility in this area. Now the 1st class sailors were wobblers they could and would play in either game, whether it was with the Chiefs or the e-5 and below. I started out in the lower stakes game, but I realized the Big Money was the Chiefs game usually held in a space that was not in the chiefs mess, so the 1st class sailors could play as chiefs only were allowed in the Chiefs mess.
      Well I eventually summoned up the courage to play in the Chiefs game, and that was not without the glares and the derisive comments that emanated from the players, but quickly subsided after I lost a couple of pay periods worth of cash, to that game, in fact I believe I was made to feel right at home, after a while, and it certainly wasn't because of my looks or magnetic personality.  I had the distinction of being the only E-5 or below crew member to be stupid enough (or as I would say "has the Balls enough") to play with the Chiefs.  That attitude soon backfired on me, when one day I found that the Chiefs had moved the game into the Chiefs mess. This was a problem for me, since I was in debt to that game and without an opportunity to alleviate that situation, by playing in it, I would be stuck with that debt.  I would have none of it, and being the naive rookie, in over his head, I waltzed right in to the Chiefs mess and sat done at the game.  This was like entering the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was on display.  I ignored the glares and stares and mutterings, only to be informed as politely as I could ever hope to expect I was not welcome there.  I expressed my concerns and the game was moved back out to a site where I would be allowed to participate. I guess I raised quite a stir and then a little respect as the Chiefs realized I was no going to be hornswaggled in that way without a fight.
       Now the crap game was new to me.  I quickly learned the rules as I observed my shipmates involved in what looked and sounded like, what Meyer Lansky may have observed while growing up in the lower east side of New York, before he tried to dominate the gambling rackets of that place.  Get paid and find a bulkhead in the same space you got paid.   Just Crazy, lose your whole check in minutes.
      So back and forth it went, until one day, while engaged in ice breaking operations in McMurdo sound I found myself in a head to head blackjack game with none other than Captains cook  1st class.  I was winning and he was pissed,  He would not let me leave with his money, so hand after hand it went, even after they announced liberty at McMurdo station, I felt obligated to at least, allow him to attempt to win his money back. And I wanted off that ship in a bad way.  I walked away with $400 of his money, which represented almost a months pay for me, in 1978. I thought he was going to kill me after searching his face on my way out.
      Well I was feeling pretty cocky as I scrambled up the iced over hill that was supposed to be a road towards McMurdo base proper. The base was not really a pretty sight. It resembled an old mining town only white. The road up was steep and hazardous, as the fatal casualty could attest. A fork lift rolled onto a crewmember who was assisting in loading ops, sad to say.   I learned there was 3 bars, enlisted mans bar, chiefs bar, and officers bar.  The enlisted mans bar was known as The Snake Pit. So into the Snake Pit I went, with a wad of cash in my pocket.  I noticed that one of the cooks had a fairly easy shot at the 8 ball, on one of the pool tables.  I slapped down a 20 and retorted that I bet that 20 that he would miss the shot.  Well some of the sailors told me that he had been running the table all night and that was a pretty stupid bet.  I did,nt care, I was flush with cash and I felt like  superman. So as he lined up his shot, I grabbed the 40 bucks."YES!!!!" Now some might say I was a little quick on the draw and that may have startled that cook and he may have missed because of that, but nobody challenged me so as far as I was concerned I was good to go.  James Bond, The Spy Who Loved Me... playing on the projector, I sallied up to the bar and bought drinks for all my friends.
      After I skidded on my ass all the way down the hill, back to the ship,  (I was trying to take a short cut and fell on my ass, and that's where I stayed all the way down the hill) I made my way to galley, frozen ass and all, because I was Hungry and it was about time for Mid Rats.  Midnight Rations, which was served for the watch standers underway because they may have missed evening chow.  Well I was disappointed to learn that since McMurdo was considered a port-o-call mid rats was cancelled.  Dejected and drunk I stumbled to the berthing area and collapsed on the couch. Well lo and be hold who should be coming down the ladder, none other than the cook who just lost 20 dollars on the pool table to some drunk loudmouth.  ( that would be me)  so I offered him a deal.  I said I would return his 20 dollars if he would make me a sandwich, since he had access to the galley.  I specified what I wanted on it and he agreed.  A few minutes later he came down with what was not even close to what I ordered.Well right behind him I then noticed a couple of my shipmates coming    down with plates of food.  I then asked what was going on?  I thought mid-rats was cancelled?            Apparently some rank higher up countermanded that order.  Well I refused to pay that cook his money back,under the circumstances and I did not get what I ordered anyway.  I went to go open my locker and CRACK I felt and heard on the back of my head.  I reach around with my hand a came away with a handful of blood.  I went completely berserk, as pummeled the cooks face, with my fists. I normally wont kick anybody when they are down, but with this case I made an exception and gave him a couple in the ribs,due to the fact it was such a grievous sneak attack.  We both ended up in sick bay, where the senior corpsman was a warrant officer, drunker than a skunk, began yelling at the cook what a pussy he was, after he found out what happen.  The next morning, I had my eggs served to me, by that cook with a sour look on his face and two shiners on both eyes.
       Somehow I was the bad guy since this cook was considered a weaker opponent, at least to some of deck force that let me know.  I was not feeling too guilty because ; number 1 he had a weapon, a coffee cup and number 2 he attacked me from behind with no warning.  No formal charges were filed, however and I considered the matter closed.
 

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.