| General Non-Fiction posted May 27, 2022 |
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Some people just should not own boats
The Man Who Loved Boats
by T B Botts
I got a call yesterday from a lady who lives at Game Creek. I spent my first ten years in Alaska at the farm there. She was calling to let me know that there was going to be a memorial service for Brother Gary who had passed away some months ago.
Ol' Brother Gary. For years I couldn't stand the man. He was everything that I wasn't. He loved corporate living. I absolutely despised it. He would walk around singing or saying things like "Thankyou Lord!" at the top of his lungs for no reason other than he loved God and wanted everyone to feel the same way. I avoided him like the plague. Periodically we would be forced into a situation where we had to work together.We were like oil and water. We just didn't mix well, not because he didn't try. I just plain didn't like the guy.
If you live in Southeast Alaska, you just about need a boat. The area is made up of islands, and there are fjiords and straits and inlets throughout the area. To get from the farm where we lived, into Hoonah, the closest town, required a twenty minute ride in a boat. You could walk into town, but it would take hours.
Bro Gary decided he needed to have a boat. During a complete lapse in judgement, the eldership agreed that it would be a good idea. They had a lot of stupid ideas, but that ranked near the top. Not having any money, Gary somehow managed to talk someone into letting him have a boat that was tied to the pilings of the cold storage. It had been rubbing up and down against the piles for some time, so planks were missing, and the engine didn't work. It basically had been tied there to suffer the slow death of a wooden boat. Somehow Gary managed to get it towed out to the farm without sinking it, where he spent countless days working on it. Through some act of God or whatever, he managed to get the engine to run. Miracles really do happen.
He purchased a commercial salmon troll permit as well as a halibut permit. On his maiden voyage out halibut fishing he managed to get the long line wrapped around the prop. He donned a survival suit, which is designed to keep you afloat, and hopped in the water. Of course he was too buoyant to sink, so he instructed his crew hand to give him a forty pound cannonball tied to a line. He wrapped it around one leg. He had one leg floating on the surface and one hanging down in the water. He gave orders for another cannonball to be sent down, which he tied to the other leg. His crew hand, Eric watched as Gary sank like a rock in the clear water, looking up at him. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to tie a rope around Bro Gary's middle, so he was rescued. I think they adjusted the weights and Gary stuck a knife in his mouth like a pirate and proceeded to cut away the line. When he came up for air his face was streaked with red bottom paint and he had a barnacle on his tongue. He thought he had lost a filling. Eventually he freed the prop and they got underway.
It wasn't the last of the Brother Gary adventures involving boats. One day I came out to the point where we tied up our skiffs and I saw him in his boat sitting high and dry on a reef. I asked what he was doing.
"Yo! Brother Tom! I misjudged the tide. Do you know when the high tide will be?"
"Yeah, hi Gary. According to the tide book, you're going to be there for another four hours or so."
"Thank you Brother, I'll see you in the camp. Would you let them know I'll be late for supper?"
"Yeah, OK Gary."
I don't know what happened to that boat; he had a number of different ones. He was using a small flat-bottomed skiff one day to run a bunch of the teens from the farm into town for some kind of sing -along at one of the churches. Frankly, I don't know why the elders let him have passengers at all, much less our children. It was a warm, sunny, summer day, which was unusual in Southeast. He spotted two kayaks in the distance, and being Mr. Friendly decided to go close and say hi. Neither person had a shirt on, and it wasn't until it was too late that he discovered that one of them was a lady. He quickly made a U-turn, but not before the passengers got an eyeful. Welcome to the real world kids.
The most memorable story I have concerning Gary and boats was one that I was intimately involved in. I was managing L. Kane store in Hoonah. Gary pulled up to the dock to get some gasoline. The fuel man was off, so I reluctantly wandered down the dock and passed down the hose. It was low tide and his boat was probably twelve feet from the top of the dock. After fueling him up, I left and went into the cold storage to look at what fish had come in. I heard someone shout, "Fire!!" I ran outside and asked where. "On the fuel dock!" He exclaimed. I rounded the corner and saw flames shooting above the top of the dock. Gary was the last person to get fuel.
I ran to the edge of the dock and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Gary!!!"
From below I heard, "It's alright Tom. I'm OK! I'm hanging on the ladder."
Fearing that the fuel dock would catch fire and eventually the whole town again, I asked if he could untie the boat. He could and did and the tide took it over to Graveyard Island where it burnt to the waterline and eventually was declared a hazard to navigation when the tide floated it out to Icy Strait. Gary climbed the ladder and started walking down the dock towards Front Street, dripping wet and passing the crowds of onlookers. It was yet another saga in the long history of Brother Gary stories. I don't know if he ever owned another boat.
Eventually there was a road built that passed close to the farm, and everyone bought cars to get to town with. Gary was in multitudes of accidents and even managed to lose someone's boat that he was towing up a mountain. It went over the edge of the cliff. Apparently the vehicle he was driving caught fire underneath, so he unhooked the boat without blocking the wheels and it went down the hill and over the side.
With all that, he still managed to live a long life. I suppose if I make it to heaven I'll hear a familiar voice call, "Thomas! Yo brother!" No doubt we'll both agree that it's a pretty wonderful place.
I got a call yesterday from a lady who lives at Game Creek. I spent my first ten years in Alaska at the farm there. She was calling to let me know that there was going to be a memorial service for Brother Gary who had passed away some months ago.
Ol' Brother Gary. For years I couldn't stand the man. He was everything that I wasn't. He loved corporate living. I absolutely despised it. He would walk around singing or saying things like "Thankyou Lord!" at the top of his lungs for no reason other than he loved God and wanted everyone to feel the same way. I avoided him like the plague. Periodically we would be forced into a situation where we had to work together.We were like oil and water. We just didn't mix well, not because he didn't try. I just plain didn't like the guy.
If you live in Southeast Alaska, you just about need a boat. The area is made up of islands, and there are fjiords and straits and inlets throughout the area. To get from the farm where we lived, into Hoonah, the closest town, required a twenty minute ride in a boat. You could walk into town, but it would take hours.
Bro Gary decided he needed to have a boat. During a complete lapse in judgement, the eldership agreed that it would be a good idea. They had a lot of stupid ideas, but that ranked near the top. Not having any money, Gary somehow managed to talk someone into letting him have a boat that was tied to the pilings of the cold storage. It had been rubbing up and down against the piles for some time, so planks were missing, and the engine didn't work. It basically had been tied there to suffer the slow death of a wooden boat. Somehow Gary managed to get it towed out to the farm without sinking it, where he spent countless days working on it. Through some act of God or whatever, he managed to get the engine to run. Miracles really do happen.
He purchased a commercial salmon troll permit as well as a halibut permit. On his maiden voyage out halibut fishing he managed to get the long line wrapped around the prop. He donned a survival suit, which is designed to keep you afloat, and hopped in the water. Of course he was too buoyant to sink, so he instructed his crew hand to give him a forty pound cannonball tied to a line. He wrapped it around one leg. He had one leg floating on the surface and one hanging down in the water. He gave orders for another cannonball to be sent down, which he tied to the other leg. His crew hand, Eric watched as Gary sank like a rock in the clear water, looking up at him. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to tie a rope around Bro Gary's middle, so he was rescued. I think they adjusted the weights and Gary stuck a knife in his mouth like a pirate and proceeded to cut away the line. When he came up for air his face was streaked with red bottom paint and he had a barnacle on his tongue. He thought he had lost a filling. Eventually he freed the prop and they got underway.
It wasn't the last of the Brother Gary adventures involving boats. One day I came out to the point where we tied up our skiffs and I saw him in his boat sitting high and dry on a reef. I asked what he was doing.
"Yo! Brother Tom! I misjudged the tide. Do you know when the high tide will be?"
"Yeah, hi Gary. According to the tide book, you're going to be there for another four hours or so."
"Thank you Brother, I'll see you in the camp. Would you let them know I'll be late for supper?"
"Yeah, OK Gary."
I don't know what happened to that boat; he had a number of different ones. He was using a small flat-bottomed skiff one day to run a bunch of the teens from the farm into town for some kind of sing -along at one of the churches. Frankly, I don't know why the elders let him have passengers at all, much less our children. It was a warm, sunny, summer day, which was unusual in Southeast. He spotted two kayaks in the distance, and being Mr. Friendly decided to go close and say hi. Neither person had a shirt on, and it wasn't until it was too late that he discovered that one of them was a lady. He quickly made a U-turn, but not before the passengers got an eyeful. Welcome to the real world kids.
The most memorable story I have concerning Gary and boats was one that I was intimately involved in. I was managing L. Kane store in Hoonah. Gary pulled up to the dock to get some gasoline. The fuel man was off, so I reluctantly wandered down the dock and passed down the hose. It was low tide and his boat was probably twelve feet from the top of the dock. After fueling him up, I left and went into the cold storage to look at what fish had come in. I heard someone shout, "Fire!!" I ran outside and asked where. "On the fuel dock!" He exclaimed. I rounded the corner and saw flames shooting above the top of the dock. Gary was the last person to get fuel.
I ran to the edge of the dock and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Gary!!!"
From below I heard, "It's alright Tom. I'm OK! I'm hanging on the ladder."
Fearing that the fuel dock would catch fire and eventually the whole town again, I asked if he could untie the boat. He could and did and the tide took it over to Graveyard Island where it burnt to the waterline and eventually was declared a hazard to navigation when the tide floated it out to Icy Strait. Gary climbed the ladder and started walking down the dock towards Front Street, dripping wet and passing the crowds of onlookers. It was yet another saga in the long history of Brother Gary stories. I don't know if he ever owned another boat.
Eventually there was a road built that passed close to the farm, and everyone bought cars to get to town with. Gary was in multitudes of accidents and even managed to lose someone's boat that he was towing up a mountain. It went over the edge of the cliff. Apparently the vehicle he was driving caught fire underneath, so he unhooked the boat without blocking the wheels and it went down the hill and over the side.
With all that, he still managed to live a long life. I suppose if I make it to heaven I'll hear a familiar voice call, "Thomas! Yo brother!" No doubt we'll both agree that it's a pretty wonderful place.
Ol' Brother Gary. For years I couldn't stand the man. He was everything that I wasn't. He loved corporate living. I absolutely despised it. He would walk around singing or saying things like "Thankyou Lord!" at the top of his lungs for no reason other than he loved God and wanted everyone to feel the same way. I avoided him like the plague. Periodically we would be forced into a situation where we had to work together.We were like oil and water. We just didn't mix well, not because he didn't try. I just plain didn't like the guy.
If you live in Southeast Alaska, you just about need a boat. The area is made up of islands, and there are fjiords and straits and inlets throughout the area. To get from the farm where we lived, into Hoonah, the closest town, required a twenty minute ride in a boat. You could walk into town, but it would take hours.
Bro Gary decided he needed to have a boat. During a complete lapse in judgement, the eldership agreed that it would be a good idea. They had a lot of stupid ideas, but that ranked near the top. Not having any money, Gary somehow managed to talk someone into letting him have a boat that was tied to the pilings of the cold storage. It had been rubbing up and down against the piles for some time, so planks were missing, and the engine didn't work. It basically had been tied there to suffer the slow death of a wooden boat. Somehow Gary managed to get it towed out to the farm without sinking it, where he spent countless days working on it. Through some act of God or whatever, he managed to get the engine to run. Miracles really do happen.
He purchased a commercial salmon troll permit as well as a halibut permit. On his maiden voyage out halibut fishing he managed to get the long line wrapped around the prop. He donned a survival suit, which is designed to keep you afloat, and hopped in the water. Of course he was too buoyant to sink, so he instructed his crew hand to give him a forty pound cannonball tied to a line. He wrapped it around one leg. He had one leg floating on the surface and one hanging down in the water. He gave orders for another cannonball to be sent down, which he tied to the other leg. His crew hand, Eric watched as Gary sank like a rock in the clear water, looking up at him. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to tie a rope around Bro Gary's middle, so he was rescued. I think they adjusted the weights and Gary stuck a knife in his mouth like a pirate and proceeded to cut away the line. When he came up for air his face was streaked with red bottom paint and he had a barnacle on his tongue. He thought he had lost a filling. Eventually he freed the prop and they got underway.
It wasn't the last of the Brother Gary adventures involving boats. One day I came out to the point where we tied up our skiffs and I saw him in his boat sitting high and dry on a reef. I asked what he was doing.
"Yo! Brother Tom! I misjudged the tide. Do you know when the high tide will be?"
"Yeah, hi Gary. According to the tide book, you're going to be there for another four hours or so."
"Thank you Brother, I'll see you in the camp. Would you let them know I'll be late for supper?"
"Yeah, OK Gary."
I don't know what happened to that boat; he had a number of different ones. He was using a small flat-bottomed skiff one day to run a bunch of the teens from the farm into town for some kind of sing -along at one of the churches. Frankly, I don't know why the elders let him have passengers at all, much less our children. It was a warm, sunny, summer day, which was unusual in Southeast. He spotted two kayaks in the distance, and being Mr. Friendly decided to go close and say hi. Neither person had a shirt on, and it wasn't until it was too late that he discovered that one of them was a lady. He quickly made a U-turn, but not before the passengers got an eyeful. Welcome to the real world kids.
The most memorable story I have concerning Gary and boats was one that I was intimately involved in. I was managing L. Kane store in Hoonah. Gary pulled up to the dock to get some gasoline. The fuel man was off, so I reluctantly wandered down the dock and passed down the hose. It was low tide and his boat was probably twelve feet from the top of the dock. After fueling him up, I left and went into the cold storage to look at what fish had come in. I heard someone shout, "Fire!!" I ran outside and asked where. "On the fuel dock!" He exclaimed. I rounded the corner and saw flames shooting above the top of the dock. Gary was the last person to get fuel.
I ran to the edge of the dock and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Gary!!!"
From below I heard, "It's alright Tom. I'm OK! I'm hanging on the ladder."
Fearing that the fuel dock would catch fire and eventually the whole town again, I asked if he could untie the boat. He could and did and the tide took it over to Graveyard Island where it burnt to the waterline and eventually was declared a hazard to navigation when the tide floated it out to Icy Strait. Gary climbed the ladder and started walking down the dock towards Front Street, dripping wet and passing the crowds of onlookers. It was yet another saga in the long history of Brother Gary stories. I don't know if he ever owned another boat.
Eventually there was a road built that passed close to the farm, and everyone bought cars to get to town with. Gary was in multitudes of accidents and even managed to lose someone's boat that he was towing up a mountain. It went over the edge of the cliff. Apparently the vehicle he was driving caught fire underneath, so he unhooked the boat without blocking the wheels and it went down the hill and over the side.
With all that, he still managed to live a long life. I suppose if I make it to heaven I'll hear a familiar voice call, "Thomas! Yo brother!" No doubt we'll both agree that it's a pretty wonderful place.
 Recognized |
Whenever I would meet Gary, he would always exclaim, "Yo! Thomas! Brother Tom! He was a very enthusiastic fellow, and perhaps in a different setting we would have been friends. As it was, I was miserable where I was and he pretty much was the exact opposite of me.
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