Virgie Opal (Guinn) Meyer is my father's (Raymond Keith Thurman) mother.

LIFE OF A COUNTRY GIRL IN ALASKA

By

Chapter I, Alaska bound

When my husband1 came home from combat duty in Italy during World War II, his family was so delighted.  His parents and I were planning for us to live next door to them.  And we hoped he would resume his old job as postal clerk at the train station.  But, he had other ideas.  He planned to go to Alaska.  He had served two years of his Army life in southeastern Alaska and liked the country there.

 

He and Fred Morris, his Army buddy, planned to leave their wives behind and get settled with a job and house, then send for us.  I didn't like that idea.  We had been separated too much already, and I knew I could get along somehow until he found work.  So, after much correspondence with the Morrises, we arranged a time to meet in Seattle for our journey to Sitka, Alaska.

 

I had never met Fred's wife, Rowene, and their six-month old daughter, Durla.  We liked each other from our first meeting.  Rowene was a vivacious girl and was as thrilled about this venture as I was.  Neither of us had ever been on an ocean voyage before.  We were quite excited as we boarded the "North Sea".  I was a bit awe stricken by the space and accommodations aboard a ship.  I am a country girl and the largest boat I had been on before was a small canoe.

 

The porter took us to our staterooms, and while I was arranging our luggage, Todd left our room.  When I finished with the luggage, I went to the door to look for him,

but he was nowhere in sight.  I went out into the hallway and started walking, but all I saw was more rooms and strangers hustling back and forth.  I turned to go back to our room but I had failed to remember our room number.  I poked my head into several rooms before I finally came to ours.  I began to wish I knew something about travel so I wouldn’t feel so timid and out of place.

 

Just as the ship was ready to pull out from the dock Todd came and asked why I was in our room, and said that I should be out on deck as we pulled away from the dock.  I didn't tell him I was too green to even find my way onto the upper deck.  (Our room was on the lower deck.)  I was thrilled as we pulled away from the dock to hear the band playing and everyone yelling their farewells to friends and relatives.

 

It turned out to be a lovely trip.  There was no rough water, the food was excellent, and the scenery was beautiful.  One day it rained most of the day.  Just as we sat down to dinner the sun shined out.  We were going through Seymour Narrows and it looked as if we could almost touch land from either side of the ship.  The trees were so

 

1Eugene Todd Meyer

pretty with the sunshine on them.  The ship was rolling very gently and the band playedBrahms Lullaby.  I shall never forget the thrill of the music and the perfect setting.

 

Chapter 2.  Finding a job and a place to stay

 

When we arrived in Sitka it was raining.  We went ashore with our few pieces of luggage.  Todd and Fred put it on the dock and told Rowene and me to wait there a few minutes while they went for a cab and to see about a hotel room.  There was no shelter on the dock for us.  So we stood in the rain with their baby.  We waited and waited for Todd and Fred to come back.  Each of us took turns holding the baby and trying to keep her from getting wet and cold.  We tried to keep our chins up, but I wanted to cry.  I wondered what we were doing here in this strange place with no job and very little money.

 

The men came back happy as could be.  They had found an apartment in the courts.  We went up there, taking our few worldly belongings with us.  When we got to the courts a lady told us that another apartment would be vacant as soon as the ship left.  So Todd and I got one of the apartments.

 

 The next day, October 5, Fred and Todd went job hunting.  They came back all smiles.  They not only had promises of jobs, but they were the proud owners of a boat, even though neither of them knew a thing about boats!  They each paid $200 down on the boat and borrowed $1,000 from the bank to finish the purchase.  That left us exactly fifty dollars on which to live.

 

The men started work at the mill the next day, worked two weeks, and then the mill broke down.  Here we were, out of work, facing a long winter, and with no money.  Rowene and I went out and picked blueberries that had not yet fallen off the plants because of the frosts.  They were watery and not very tasty, but our men enjoyed the blueberry pies.  We also picked wild cranberries and made jelly.

 

In November, the mill was repaired and the men went back to work again. The mill operated until about the middle of December, then shut down again.  This time it was closed until February 1.

 

Chapter 3.  The weekend adventure

 

The boat Todd and Fred bought was a 26-ft. Columbia-river type with a one-cylinder engine.  We called her a “one lunger” because she wheezed so when not running perfectly.  Her name was “Dopey”.  Fred and Todd went out with “Dopey” several times and twice the engine quit.   Luckily, another boat came along both times and towed them in.

 

Early one nice, crisp, clear December morning before dawn, Rowene and I were all packed and ready to go with Fred and Todd to Katloon Bay for the weekend to scout around for a good trapping area for mink.  Rowene left the baby with a friend and promised to be back by Sunday evening.  The sea was flat and the stars beautiful as we pulled away from town.  We were anticipating a lovely adventure.  Rowene and I had not been out on “Dopey” and we were very excited.

 

We anchored the boat and enjoyed clambering over rocks, fallen trees and snowdrifts, and hunting mink tracks.  The days are so short in December that it was getting dark almost before we realized it.  The wind started to blow, and it clouded over and looked as if it would snow.

 

I was scared to death of the water, and the thought of trying to spend the night on the boat terrified me.  I asked Todd if we could go up the river to a tumbled-down cabin and spend the night. He was a bit indignant to think I didn’t trust his fine boat for a night’s rest.  He said he was spending the night in the boat where it was dry and warm, and if I slept in that old shack I’d do it alone.  I was afraid to be up there alone, but more afraid to stay on the boat.  So, I packed up bacon, butter, jelly, and bread for my breakfast, took my sleeping bag, and was on my way.  It was about half a mile from where the boat was anchored and Todd at least took me up there.

 

When we got there we found that there was an old oil drum in the shack that had been used as a stove, but with no pipe.  So, we could not build a fire to keep me warm during the night because there was too much danger of smoke and carbon monoxide and of sparks burning the remains of the old cabin.  We found a few dry boards on which to put my sleeping bag.  I asked Todd to change his mind and stay with me, but he kissed me good night and returned to the boat.

 

I crawled into my sleeping bag with all my clothes on except coat and shoes.  The wind kept blowing harder and harder, and it began to snow.  I reached out of my sleeping bag and spread my coat over my feet hoping I could get them warm enough that I could go to sleep.  Every loose board on the shack was flopping and popping.  The noise was frightening.  I was sure some sleepless bear would walk in and eat me before dawn.  Finally, I heard a crunching in the icy creek.  A bear?  No, it was Todd.  He had relented and came to spend the rest of the night with me.  I was never quite so glad to have him near.  We were not at all warm but did sleep some between strong gusts of wind.  Each time we were awakened, I’d feel so sorry for Fred and Rowene out on the boat in all that wind.  Todd would say not to waste my sympathy because they were where it was nice and warm.

 

As soon as it was light, we got up and went up the river to look for mink tracks.  We came back and went to see if the Morrises were up.  But, the boat was missing!  We could see down the bay for over two miles and there was no sign of them.  The sea was really rolling.  The wind picked the water up in big sheets and whirled it across the bay.  I was frantic.  I just knew the boat had sunk and Fred and Rowene had drowned.

 

Suddenly I caught a glimpse of something red.  Yes, on the next swell I saw Rowene’s red coat.  Then they came in sight rowing the small skiff.  It was quite a struggle, but they finally made it to shore.  What a night they’d had.  The boat had pulled anchor four times and each time they had drifted a mile or more before awakening.  Once, they were almost on a rocky reef before they got the engine going.  Finally, they had found a little nook against a high rocky shore where the wind couldn’t hit so strongly.  The anchor held there.

 

We all went back up to the shack, built a fire in the drum, broiled our bacon on sticks, and ate our breakfast.  Then we went back to the boat and headed for home.

 

When we go out into the channel, the waves were so high that water was all over the deck and running into the boat through the pilothouse door.  Fred grabbed the pump and began pumping as fast as he could, hoping to keep most of the water pumped out.  Todd was hanging onto the wheel.  We had to hold on for dear life when we hit a big wave to keep from being hurled against the other side of the boat.  Sometimes a wave would go over the top of the pilothouse and all we could see for seconds was water.  Then we’d bob up again on top of the next wave.

           

I was petrified with fright.  I begged Todd to turn back, but he said he couldn’t turn until he could catch the waves just right.  He tried to console me by saying there was nothing to worry about as long as the engine ran.  But, looking at his and Fred’s white anxious faces I knew we were in danger.  The unreliability of the old one-cylinder engine was a real worry.  Finally, he got the boat turned around and we made it back to where we had been anchored.

           

We soon heard the hum of a big engine.  Sure enough, a big white cruiser was coming.  It was a great relief to see another boat, and a big one at that.  The men were not going to let the storm bother them.  They had a fast boat and were heading back to town.  Fred and Todd sent Rowene and me with them, but they stayed with “Dopey.”  After surviving that rough trip, I promised myself that I’d never again go out for an overnight stay.

 

            The next day was nice and calm and our men came in with no trouble at all.

 

Chapter 4.  Finding a house

 

            Being a farm girl, I didn’t like living in town and, especially, in an apartment where there was little room and the walls so thin that we could hear what was going on in apartments on either side of ours.  Our bathroom was so small that you had to back in to use the toilet, and the shower was so small that you could hardly bend your arms without hitting the wall with your elbows.  After spending a wakeful night listening to a neighbor in the next apartment beating his wife, banging her head against the wall, and threatening to shoot her, we decided we had to move.  Also, they were raising the rent to $45 per month for this small two-room apartment.  With Todd out of work we wouldn’t be able to pay the rent and eat for very long.

 

            So, we went house hunting.  We found a tiny house that we could rent for $15 a month if we would clean it up and do some repair work.  It was a filthy mess but we had plenty of time to clean it up and do the repair work.  After many scrubbings and a new coat of paint on the woodwork it was soon gleaming clean.  We moved in and bought a big supply of groceries with the extra $30 dollars that we would have spent for rent on the apartment.

 

            This house also had a tiny bathroom.  I was determined that if we ever have a house of our own it will have a spacious bathroom, one that you can walk into and in which you can turn around.  Also, it will have a tub (no more tiny showers), a light with a wall switch or a window for light.

 

            One day I hastily backed into the toilet.  As soon as I sat down on the stool I heard a gurgling in the water that I knew was not me.  I jumped up and felt frantically for the string to the light.  When I found the string and pulled it to turn the light on there sat a big, fat rat blinking his beady little eyes at me.  I screamed and he dived back down the drain.

 

            So, that was what had been making the seat dirty and wet; and all the while I had though my innocent husband was guilty of that.  I emptied a can of lye down the drain and never saw Mr. Rat again.

 

            Spring was just around the corner, Todd was working again, and things were looking brighter for us.

 

            One day our landlady came for a visit.  When she saw how nice the house looked she was very surprised and pleased.  We had also put new linoleum on the floor, finished the attic, and put our bed up there instead of in the one big room downstairs.  A few days later she came again and said that the rent would be going up to $35 a month and that she could easily rent it to others for $40.  We felt this was unfair because our efforts had increased the desirability of the little house.  So, we started house hunting again.

 

            Todd remembered a house seven miles out in the country that was well-built and in a beautiful location facing Silver Bay.  The next day, he was off from work so we bundled up and headed for Herring Cove to see that house. 

 

They say the south is noted for its hospitality, but it has nothing on some Alaskans.  I was so tired and hungry when we got in sight of the house that I told Todd I wished there was a woman there, that maybe she would offer us a cup of coffee.  The man in the house saw us on the beach and called us to come to the house and warm up a bit.  My feet were almost frozen because I had stepped into snowdrifts over my boot tops.  When we got to the house he was busily stirring the fire and had the coffee pot on the stove.  In a few minutes he had us sit down at the table for coffee and a big chocolate cake.  I don’t think I have ever enjoyed coffee and cake more.  He didn’t want to sell the house but invited us to visit often.

 

Todd suggested that we continue to rent, but I insisted that we buy a place of our own.  I was tired of moving every few months.  He said, “You want security don’t you babe?”  To tell the truth, I did.  We could put the money we paid for rent into a place of our own and soon have it paid for.

 

The next week we found a place with a 200-ft. frontage on Jamestown Bay for sale.  The old shack leaked all over and looked as if it was about ready to fall down, but the price was reasonable.  The owner agreed to sell for a small down payment and monthly payments of $25.  We bought it.  We were now proud landowners in Alaska.

 

Again, we started scrubbing, painting, and papering (or at least I did) and this time it was on our own property.  When Todd got a day off from work he tarred the roof to stop the leaks.  We bought a second-hand cook stove, a bed, and a breakfast set and moved into our “new” home.  What a great day, a home of our own with plenty of room for a garden and a chicken yard.  We started planning how we could clear some of the trees and brush off our land for a big garden and beautiful lawn and, someday, a nice home.       

 

Chapter 5.  The homestead

 

            After selling our home in Jamestown Bay we wrote to the Bureau of Land Management and told them we wanted to homestead some land near old Sitka that was three miles from the end of Halibut Point road.  They sent us application forms and told us to fill them out and return them with a $10 filing fee.

 

            We bought a surplus 20 by 50-ft. warehouse that was on a small island, and started preparing it for a move to the land for which we submitted the application for homestead.  We moved our Wanogan near the warehouse, which faced the open sea.  There was always a swell even when there was no wind, but the wind blew most of the time.  The Wanogan, being anchored in the middle of the bay, had plenty of room to pitch and roll.  Every time I tried to do any baking or house cleaning I’d get seasick and have to get in the skiff and row ashore or go to bed.

 

            The men worked very hard getting the warehouse ready to move; they braced it with heavy planks from one end to the other.  Then they had to jack it up and put it on skids that were logs two ft. in diameter by 60 ft. long.

 

            We received a receipt for our filing fee from the B.L.M. with no comments or instructions, so we assumed it was OK to go ahead and start work.  Todd loaded his Cat onto a large float that he used for transporting logging equipment and towed it to our homestead.  In two weeks Papa2 and Todd had cleared two acres and leveled a place for our warehouse.

 

            They left the Cat on the farm (our homestead) and towed the big float to the island where the warehouse was.  The big problem was how to get the warehouse off the island and onto the big float.  They decided to skid it ½ mile to an airplane ramp used during the war.  Todd hired a man with a big Cat to skid it for him.  The road over the causeway (built up from the small island to the mainland) was only ten to twelve feet wide in places and we sure were sweating those places.  But, they managed to skid the warehouse to the ramp with no mishaps.

 

            The next problem was how to get the warehouse onto the big float.  They waited until low tide and the float was sitting on the ramp.  They used the big Cat to push the

 

            2John Sherman Guinn

warehouse part of the way onto the float but were unable to push it all the way.  They then attached cables to the front of the float and, using block and tackle, were able to finish loading the warehouse onto the big float. It took six hours to tow it to the farm.  They waited for high tide to bring it onto the beach and then waited for low tide to pull the warehouse off the float (with the smaller Cat) and onto the clearing.

 

            We were so enthused that the warehouse was successfully moved.  We got our house plans out and started planning to convert it into a nice, comfortable home.  We planned to live in the Wanogan until the house was finished.

 

About three months later we heard the dogs barking and saw a stranger on the beach. He was the Little-Tracts man from Ketchikan.  He wanted to know what we were doing here and we told him we were homesteading.  He said this is not for homesteading and never had been.  We explained to him about writing to the B.L.M. in Anchorage, but he said that someone had made a mistake and that we should never have been allowed here.  He called the B.L.M. and filed a complaint.  Within days the B.L.M. sent us a registered letter telling us our application for homesteading had been rejected.

 

            We were flabbergasted.  We had such great plans for a permanent home here.  It was such a beautiful spot with a big river, acres and acres of grass flats to the east, and beyond that were beautiful snow-covered mountains.  Sitka Sound, with many islands, was to the south.  And to the west were beautiful Mt. Edgecumbe and The Camel’s Hump (another volcanic crater).  We had good fishing right in front of our house.  Papa caught a big halibut that weighed about 160 lbs.  There were plenty of crabs and clams, too.

 

            Now we didn’t know what to do.  It had cost us too much to give up without a struggle.  So we sent an appeal to the B.L.M. and waited for their decision.

 

            Our hopes for a warm, cozy home for the coming winter were shattered.  It was too cold and windy to live in the Wanogan, so we moved into the unfinished warehouse.  Todd hung a tarp up for a partition and we placed our loose lumber overhead as a makeshift ceiling.  We sealed off one 10 by 12-ft. area and used it as a kitchen.  We had a heater made from an oil drum.  It used lots of firewood but kept the place warm except when the wind was too strong.

 

Chapter 6.  Saving the “Virgie K3”

 

            We soon learned that this was no place to keep a boat anchored in the winter.  We had been there only a few days when the wind turned from the south to the northwest and it began to turn cold.  About dusk it began to snow.  Todd decided the boat might be a bit too close to the shore since the wind had changed directions.

 

            After the engine had been running about 20 minutes it still sounded as if it was in the same place.  I went to see if he needed help.  The stern was aground and he was

 

3”Dopey” was lost in an earlier storm when she dragged anchor and was smashed to pieces on the rocks.

pumping the bilge, hoping to lighten the boat enough to get it off the ground.  But, the tide was going out and he couldn’t get it afloat.

           

The beach sloped off steeply there and it was necessary to brace the boat to keep it from rolling over when the tide went out.  I ran to the house to get 2x4’s, a hammer, and nails.  Todd stood in that frigid water up to his waist and nailed the bracing to the boat while I stood on dry ground and held the light.  I was cold and he must have been freezing.

           

The next morning the “Virgie K” was floating nicely.  We then moved her to deeper water where she was fine for two or three weeks. 

           

One day Todd and Keith4 came from town with a load of groceries, chick feed, etc.  They tied the boat securely to the mooring, transferred the supplies to the skiff, and came ashore.  After a while Keith looked out the window and said, “You must have an awful lot of chain on your anchor, Todd.  The boat looks like she is drifting.”  Todd replied, “No she is not drifting.  The wind isn’t strong enough for that.  I’ve just got out lots of chain.”  Then Keith said, “You ain’t got out that much chain.”  Todd just grunted, but got up and went to the window and looked.  Sure enough, the boat was drifting.  They hurried to the skiff and started rowing after her.  When they caught up to the boat, there was no anchor.  The pin that held the anchor chain to the  clevis on the boat had slipped out and let the chain and anchor go to the bottom.

           

Now his big anchor and all his good chain were on the bottom of the ocean.  All he had left was a small anchor, a short piece of chain, and some rope. He anchored her with that and it held fine until we got a strong north wind.  She then dragged anchor until it caught in a small bite near the house.  That was OK so we left her there.  The north wind continued for several days but the anchor held firm. 

 

Then we got a strong southeaster and the weather warmed up some.  We were having a leisurely breakfast while watching the snow fall in great flakes.  When the snow let up some we could see the water.  It was really rolling because of the wind.  Then the

snowfall abated enough that we could see across the bay.  And there, about two miles away, was a white boat.  Todd said, “That guy must really be wanting to go somewhere to be out this early in weather like this.”  Then he frowned, grabbed the binoculars, and looked.  Yes, it was the “Virgie K.”   The last time he had tried to start her the starter had broken and he decided to leave her where she was.  However, he had taken the starter to town for repairs and now had it back in the house.  The last time I had gone fishing in our big skiff the outboard motor had quit and would no longer run.

 

             So, here we were, the “Virgie K” almost on the far shore without a starter and a skiff with an inoperable outboard motor.  We bundled up to keep warm and I put on a life jacket.  Todd put the repaired starter in the skiff and we started out in the storm to rescue our boat.  He said he could install the starter and maybe he could get the engine started so that we would not have to tow the big boat back.

 

4Keith was Virgie’s only child.  He was born in 1928 to her and her first husband, Andrew “Drude” Thurman.

            I started rowing while Todd bailed the skiff.  Then he decided to try the outboard because if we had to row all the way the “Virgie K” was almost certain to beat up on the

shore before we could get there and install the starter.  After a few pulls on the starter rope the outboard started and ran like a charm.  The “Virgie K” was about 100 yards offshore when we reached her.  The sea was so rough that we tied the skiff to the big boat so that he could transfer the starter. 

 

            I pumped the boat by hand while Todd installed the starter.  We kept getting closer to the shore.  The way the water was dashing against the rock ledge was frightening.  We were now so close to shore that I thought surely the anchor will catch, but we kept drifting.  I threw over my fishing line and let out all 150 ft., but it didn’t hit bottom.  So, I knew there was virtually no hope that the anchor would keep us away from the rocky shore.  

 

Todd finally got the starter installed and said, “Come handle the throttle and let’s give her a try.”  The engine started!  We put it in gear and got away from the rocky shore as fast as we could.  We soon had the boat home and anchored once more. 

           

Todd said, “I must take the boat into town and anchor it there for the winter as soon as this storm is over.”  But the wind turned northerly again and blew her back into the little bite.  We tried to start the engine to take her into town, but the battery was not strong enough to start the engine in such cold weather. 

           

It was a week before Christmas and the temperature was hovering near zero.  We now had new batteries on the boat, but it was storming too hard to try to move it.  We went to Church and stayed for the evening service.  It was too cold for me to walk the three miles from the end of the road, so I stayed in town and Todd went home alone. 

 

He was to be at Keith’s place by nine the next morning.  When he still wasn’t there by 9:30, I got worried and started out to see if something was wrong.  I met him and was shocked at his appearance; his face was swollen and sooty and his eyes were red.  I said, “Now what?”  He answered, “The boat.”  When he got home the previous night he had built a fire in the stove, then gone outside to see how the boat was riding out the storm.  Our skiff was gone and he walked around the beach to where he could shine the flashlight across to where the boat was.

           

Only the deck and pilothouse were visible above water.  He ran to a small shack where a fisherman kept his gear.  There he found a small skiff and a broken oar.  He carried the skiff to the water and tried to row to the “Virgie K”.  Although he was only about twenty feet from the boat, it was difficult to reach her because of the high wind, rough sea, and only one broken oar for rowing.  He managed to get on board and started pumping.  He pumped until he was exhausted and almost frozen, but the water continued to pour in, although he couldn’t see where the leak was.  He knew there was nothing to do but to go home and let her sink.

           

When he got to the house, cold and anxious to get to a good warm fire, he was disappointed.  His fire had not burned.  He poured oil on the wood, but it still wouldn’t burn. He kept trying, but the stove refused to draw.  He was freezing.  He put the two-burner Coleman gas stove on the floor behind his chair and lit both burners.  (Fortunately the house was not air-tight.)  He put the gas lantern beside him, put on his parka, wrapped our Navajo rug around him, and sat there until daybreak.

           

Then he came for Keith and me.  He told us to go on out to the house, get the fire going, and keep the coffee hot while he went to get the Coast Guard to come raise the boat and tow it to a sheltered shore.  When we got to the house we couldn’t get the fire to burn; all it would do was smoke.  By leaving the top of the stove open it would burn, but that was no good because smoke soon filled the house.  We knew the pipe must be plugged with soot and we beat on it in an effort to shake the soot loose.  But, that did no good.

 

            Keith wanted to go up on the roof and drop a rock down the stovepipe even though he has always been afraid of heights.  I refused to let him go up because it was very icy.  When we saw the Coast Guard boat coming around the point I let Keith go up on the roof because I knew that help would soon be there if he fell.  As soon as he dropped the rock down the stovepipe, the stove “took off” and we soon had a roaring hot fire.  The men did not come to the house to warm up but went straight to the boat.  It was so cold that the salt-water spray froze where it hit.  The ice was about two inches thick on most of the boat that was above water.

 

            I almost passed out when Todd jumped off the Coast Guard boat and onto the deck of the “Virgie K” to fasten the line.  The water was knee deep and, when a big wave hit, it was over his hip boots.   I expected to see him swept overboard before he could get back onto the barge.

 

            The Coast Guard boat was an old steel landing barge, and they could not manage it in the strong north wind.  They had to cut loose from our boat, and she blew onto the beach where she got the full force of the wind.  The men with the Coast Guard let Todd off at the shore and returned to Sitka.

 

            Todd had the hood of his parka fastened tight around his face.  When he got to the house he was covered with ice about ¼ inch thick from head to toe except for his face, and that looked like a pickled beet.  Keith and I helped him out of his icy clothes.  We had hot ham sandwiches and coffee ready.  He ate then went to bed to get a little sleep while waiting for the tide to go out.  Keith brought in the night’s supply of wood and water5 and then headed home to take care of his place.

 

            By 7 p.m. the tide had receded enough that we though we could get to the boat.  We bundled up and had to walk about a quarter of a mile to the boat.  Although water still surrounded the boat, Todd was able to wade out to it in his hip boots.

 

            When he got on board he discovered that the pump was frozen.  The boat was lying on its side making it almost impossible to bail.  He decided to wait for the tide to go out so that he could pull the drain plug in the bottom of the boat and let the water out.

 

5 They did not have indoor plumbing.

 

We walked along the beach and found a couple of empty oil barrels that had

washed ashore.  We planned to use them for floatation. 

 

The water was draining so slowly that Todd got the bright idea of drilling more

 holes so that the water could all drain out before the tide came back in.  But, he needed a way to plug the holes once all of the water drained out.  He got the broom and hunted a drill bit that was just slightly larger than the diameter of the broom handle.  He tested for fit by drilling a hole in a piece of stove wood.  He then cut short pieces of broom handle for plugs.

 

Then with brace6 and bit, plugs, hammer, nails, and old rags for caulking, we headed  back to the boat.  He drilled two holes and found the leak that had caused the boat to sink; electrolysis had eaten a hole in the water-intake pipe.  That gave us a total of four drain holes.

 

While he was doing that I was standing on the beach.  The temperature was minus 8o and the north wind was really blowing hard.  I thought I’d freeze for sure.  Todd asked me to come on deck to help him.  I managed to clamber up on deck even though it was a solid sheet of ice.  I crawled over to where he was.  It was warmer inside the boat, out of the wind, but the waves were hitting the bow with such violence that I was scared to stay inside.  As soon as I finished helping Todd I went ashore again.  But, I was so cold that I couldn’t stand it much longer.  Although the tide was coming back in I had to go to the house.  We filled the stove with wood and headed back to the boat.  

 

After most of the water drained out, Todd wrapped the wood plugs (cut from the broom handle) with pieces of rag and drove them into the holes.  We put the empty barrels in the hold and nailed the hatch covers down to keep the barrels there.  I was holding the hatch covers while Todd nailed them down.  All at once I slipped and was going headfirst toward the icy water.  I screamed for him to catch me.  I bumped into him as I slid by, knocking him off balance.  But, he managed to grab my ankles and keep me

 from going into the cold water.  Finally, we got it all battened down and headed for home.  It was midnight when we got in.  Believe me, when you have been out in a gale with temperatures below zero, you really appreciate a house, even if it is open as a barn.

 

The next day, when the tide came in, the boat floated nice and high.  Our labor and torture the evening before had not been in vain.  The storm had abated somewhat and I started the 9-mile hike into town to get someone to tow the boat in.  I met Keith coming out to see about us.  He had parked at the end of the road and he drove me into town.  In Sitka, I contacted Mr. Cook, a real boatman.  He said he would be right out to get our boat.  He had no trouble getting it off the beach and to town.

 

Todd and Keith worked for two days taking the engine apart, cleaning and drying all the  parts, and putting it back together.  The engine started right up and ran like a charm.

 

The old hull must really have been built strong to withstand the beating it took. 

 

6A brace is a hand-operated mechanical device for holding a bit to drill holes.

However, the false keel was shot and would have to be replaced.  But, at last, the boat was safely in town for the rest of the winter.   

 

Editor’s notes:

 

The B.L.M. would not permit Todd and Virgie to homestead that parcel of land on which they initially settled, but did permit them to homestead an island.  Therefore, they moved their warehouse again.  Because there was no fresh water on the island, Todd built a sloping roof on the hillside above their house to catch rainwater that he stored in tanks.  Gravity flow permitted them to have low-pressure running water in their house..

           

They did not have a water heater for a while.  When they wanted to take a bath they built a bonfire on the beach and heated rocks in the fire.  They carried these hot rocks to the house in a metal bucket and put them in the tub of cold water to heat it for bathing.  Later, Todd built a wood-fired water heater with a 55-gallon drum, placed horizontally, that had steel pipes that conducted water back and forth through the hot drum. 

 

They bought equipment for their bathroom but did not immediately connect the toilet because there was no large hole in the floor.  One of Virgie’s friends came, with her young son, to visit.  While they were there the little boy used the bathroom.  After they left and Virgie discovered what had happened, she got their 12-gauge shotgun, aimed it at the floor where she wanted the toilet, and let go with both barrels.  When Todd got home she said, “You can hook the stool up now Todd; there’s a hole in the floor.”

 

They moved south to a small farm in NW Arkansas in 1972.  Virgie died of cancer in June, 1986.  Todd, who was about 10 years younger, remarried and continued living in NW Arkansas until his death in April, 2003.  Keith, who provided  information for these notes, still lives on a farm in NW Arkansas.

 

I added the footnotes and the editor’s notes.

Gene Guinn, June 12, 2003

Family Wrote It