wind and white caps

there were many times when the ramona had to tie up and wait for wind.
this takes time out of a 6 month season that cannot be easily recovered.
always watching the wind, we also watch the river turn ever so gradually into the wind.
air and current struggle against each other as they line up and push the other.
rolling swells crowned by curling spraying whitecaps.

this story is about one of those times at a place called fox point on the yukon, 25 miles above grayling.
 if one gets caught in the point's wind stretch, there is only one place to hide.

fox point makes every vessel big or small go out around a shallow gravel point.
get around that ??
the only shelter will be in a slough at the ridge 2 m. below.
the waves at fox point will grow big white caps with much larger ones at  the hiding hole. in a west wind it will get much worse before it gets better.

gotten this far? then there is no choice.
you have to run for the hiding hole if you've rounded  fox point,
and gotten caught in the swells..
turn around?   maybe above, but here no.

cannot invite danger...sideways to wind and wave.
a commitment you are not likely to forget for a lifetime.
hiding hole....here we come!
the yukon forgives many mistakes, but not all.
a good pilot can  fight the wind,
but what does an average pilot do?
first anticipate danger, don't take chances,
caught in the wind?? there are only 2 simple choices, push ahead to safety or try to turn against the wind, each option loaded with complex consequences.
in this case having rounded fox point, we must push ahead to safety.  the turn around decision time is long gone.
pushing on........

knowing in advance what's around the bend
and how the river behaves in wind is a very steep learning curve,
clearly a home court advantage.
our store boat family learned these things together.
i don't recall anyone being scared or excited.

'cept for mom, she could get very nervous in a heavy roll.
scared but no panic. but if dad were to suddenly show fear. then it's time for all to be very concerned.
but he never did, and we always made it.

barge rolling and rippling we always got through to tie up in good spots.
make a fire.......let those leaves wave and show their bellies.
wait for change.

turn here? or run for the hiding hole?
push ahead of course........
wouldn't ya know? it not that simple.
if you know what's ahead.
then you also know...

if we can make this crossing, it might be good for a long ways again.
there's always a push to keeping going if we can.
if the waves are only rolling and there are no white caps,

it's not hard to work the river, provided you do nothing stupid.
soon as white caps form, the barge begins pounding,
a wave can be seen going through the entire length of a barge.
waves like sideways sledge hammers on the bow cause a ripple throughout, the barge can pound and move.
knocking things off their place. tug and store shelves would be a mess after a rough stretch.
everything on a deck can "walk".
have to tie down the freezer, generator, and anything else you don't want walking overboard.

mom could not handle the wind.  made her very nervous.
her fear came not from the wind.
but from seeing before what weight and momentum can do with even the slowest of speeds.
break loose from your barge in a rough spot and you might have to let it go for a moment.
catch it later, and count on the sweepers and wind to hold it gently somewhere below. 

everything happens very fast when something goes wrong.
can't blink.  always anticipating danger, make sure the feet are free to move.
eyes watching every line or chain for strain.

it's important to stay out of way of a cable under stress,
when cable breaks it whips and snaps like a rubber band.
ruin your day big time. not that your day was already on the best ever list,
hopping around a rolling river tug.  but you get my drift. so to speak.

mom knew these things and would nervously come into the wheel house asking, "are we going to tie up?"  she might not know where the next hiding hole was, or where the river changes direction and the wind would no longer be a problem.

she just wanted to stop.
but dad would reassure her,
just a little ways more and it'll get good.
or.... there's a nice calm slough just up ahead where we can wait.

just little ways... it's ok mom... 

she'd go lay down.

on several occasions times we kept going cause we knew it would be safe soon. but most times, we stopped and waited for the wind to die down.  this story is about stopping and waiting for the wind to slack.

rounding fox point rolling with the yukon swells,
i'm keeping out away from the gravel point just a bit, but as close as i can get in the calm water.
there always seems to be a calm in a clear silver ribbon along the shore,  just wide enough for one barge. it's the best place to be in wind.
can't be too close..it's shallow, but only swells here, no bolders,snags, or other danger.  just a rolling calm haven.  follow the silver ribbon.

riding the channel edge...  making the run.
time to steer against the wind and point the barge straight for the mouth of the slough 2 miles down.
one more bad spot at the hiding hole where the river lines up with the wind.
much worst before better.

landing is a problem, there are too many big waves to turn around. so i will use the wind and motor to tie up backwards in the mouth of a slough where we can watch the yukon rock and roll.

pushing hard and as close as we dare get to the gravel beach with the largest stump around, swing bow toward river. parallel to the beach?
full reverse. wind might hold tug from swinging back out.
using the little boat, hold the stern in. then put the outfit where you want it.  pushing the tug stern with a small skiff in such conditions is a cold wet job, dad might have me do that while he easily and quickly maneuvered.
voila.  it's done..tie her up, the coffee is on.

as a boy with my little sister ramona, I'd immediately beging to make a beach fire,
close to a sitting log and the calm water made by the tug.

i had a golden lab, called Ling, i've no clue why ling. he just came that way.
everyone glad to be out of the waves and happy to be exploring this yukon gravel beach.
ling walking in the water then successfully shaking curly fur near mona and i, gathering wood.

i always made a big fire for a wind camp. used a whole stump if i could.  it would burn all evening.  dinner on board. then depending on the bugs, spend an evening with a fire.

dad would look at the leaves and say, "it'll last 3 days, or..... not long".  I'd look at the willow leaves, see their bellys, memorize what it's doing, then begin counting the days till the wind changed.

never as accurate as dad, but  now have a pretty good idea of how leaves and wind go together.

it's the native way of knowing.
as plain as the moose track across the beach.
is it a cow or bull?  dad knew, then showed me how to see a story... not just a track in the mud..

dad could do anything it seemed to me as a boy. my open admiration only?
i don't think so... dad and mom could do anything.
just by.....setting out to do it.
typical of that generation.very few things were impossible.
amazing people my parents and their generation....if i could be half the man my father was, i'd be happy.

and that's how we grew up. knowing we'd be ok...come wind or high water.
if the bisness went bad....we are still ok, afterall we had fresh moose tracks just beside our camp.

it's only now i realize that the heroes i found along that yukon river beach had doubts at times just like you and me.  they were human.  imperfect by our very nature.
that's what we'd talk about around that fire.
sitting on a log. dad contemplating the business, mom wondering if she should go back in and which way would be the easiest.

mona and i feeding that fire.
dad he'd be looking at the ramona, rocking there in it's own eddy. and talk about new ideas he'd like to try.  not major changes, just somehow making life better aboard a boat.
more vents to be cut for engine heat when the fall chill brings it's own brand of wind.
or maybe just changing a line.
dad sitting, poking the fire, thinking about it.....says, "yep! gonna have to build a new sounding boat next spring.  that one is getting pretty beat up."
yes dad i;d always say,  and then he always continue with much excitement,
but this time!  let's try this or that. 
we never did something the same way we did it before.

didn't know it then,but
that was one of the most important things in my life.
to not get into a rut. to learn new things and ways.

not only is this a good spot to tie up,
but can watch the yukon from here.  those white caps looking pretty big out there.
when they get small it's an illusion. set out too early and one is likely to be caught in some of the largest waves they've ever seen. maybe.  but the fire and the wind does die down and everyone is happy to be  underway again.

as it calms, the river invites you back. do not rush these things.  the rock bluff below will still be rough.

when the wind blows for three days.
time for chicken hunting on an early morning, fall is best,
heading out with my .22 rifle, bending down to see the shoreline and chicken silhouette.
22 is all i needed, safe.  out looking for trouble and more firewood.

landing in a village.

as the store boat turns around in the river and sets up for a landing. it was easy to hear from up and down the bank.
store BOAT!!
taking the braided eye of a 1.5 inch manila rope, from the center of a rope rug neatly coiled on the bow deck.  i'd jump onto the beach. run the line out toward a possible anchor. sometimes hard to find,
occasionally village boats had to be moved. maybe an extra length of line needed to reach a fish wheel raft, a stake, or old boat.
heavy loads prefer a deadman.  as it's called in the trade, a cable and log buried in the bank.
tie shackle. take in slack on the 2 foot galvanized bow cleat tie her up....signal wheelhouse.
watch it tighten up. doesn't slip? or move?  we're good to go... except for a light stern line on a breezy day.

by the time the barge is secure, people have gathered on the bank. occasionally running to help and show good spots to tie up, but mostly watching with interest and maybe a bit of curiosity about this different plywood tug and barge with a store and family..  was one of two covered barges at the time.

dad shuts down the motor, comes forward and slides out the gangplank.  step onto the beach and starts shaking hands..but not immediately with all the men standing there.  he'd  go to each kid down to see the excitement, and shake their hand first.  then turn and greet others.  mom would come out to the bow by this time.
dad and i would reset the plank, barges move ever so slightly after engine shut down.  stepping once into the shore water we'd hold mom's hand on each side and off comes mom to make her own beach greetings, asking which of her buddies were in town.  she never did like gangplanks. in bad spots i would bring her ashore with our little sounding boat.  and she'd be off, sometimes saying, soups on the stove just have to heat it up. i'll be back in a moment.

by and large the store was ready to open before landing.  with everyone back on board, it was time to open up.  dad's best buddies might come aboard and go back to the ramona galley, engine room, or wheel house. not an area where most people could freely walk around. but the closer the friendship the more relaxed people felt about going through the store , and back to the tug. was still a boat, and respected as our home by all.

people in and out of the barge for the rest of the day.  their eyes widen when it rocks ever so gently after a boat passes.
many liked to come aboard the tug into our home in the evening,
but on occasion we'd be invited "up the bank" to someone's home for dinner.
it's there in a normal house where i could still feel the rock of the ramona.
it's gentle sway lives with me long after weeks of being on the water.

then it's but just a few days before it's time to move on.
as a teen i wanted to stay longer, especially if there was "action" going on.  4th of july, nuchalawoiya, a wedding, or boat races. but dad would always gently but firmly say...no..we have to go, the ice is gonna run!

it could be +90 on the water and it was always the same,let's go... ice is gonna run.

dad warms the engine, a quiet rumble while i wait to cast off from the front deck.
with the stern line gone he turns the wheel in, engages the engine. when the bow line goes slack, someone there to see us off would untie.  once the line was pulled in..dragging end in water to clean.  signal wheel house.
turn around in the river, and we're off...Open her up....afterall, the ice is gonna run...24 hrs a day movement.
not long before we hear again,

STORE BOAT! ccommiing.

Blog RSS Feed Reader on Facebook

Blog RSS Feed Reader on Facebook: "child of the river, growing up on a river tug"

a gift my parents gave me==lucky start for this young man

  during my entire childhood on the interior waters of alaska, i never gave much thought to living on a tug boat.  this was just another town, fishcamp, or creek. i had seen before, on the way down river. looks purdy much the same as it did last month.  it wasn't till i started to mature did i begin to see just how special it was to see these places and to have these river journeys of many kinds. always close to me~ never far.  i find river metaphors in everything i do. i'll try to show you.

maybe you'll see how special it was.  or not.  it's ok,
every wind in the river finds it's way the sea.

claude JR!  mom sometimes said...was all it took. like bears make their cubs escape danger. 

a clear calm very hot summer afternoon. heat only the interior alaska water can make.

 i was at the wheel of the ramona, our family home and business.

 i thought i was as pilot now! we were heading down river with the store boat in an area of the yukon near half-way to ruby. the yukon spreading out just a little bit.  mile or so.

dad noticed that i always took the same path through this 20 mile stretch.

favoring some hills yet half-way across the yukon, he tells me, "you'll never know what's over there (pointing to the far bank lined with sandbars), unless you go over there".

he was right, so i went.

turned the wheel till barge starts to swing, turn back feel....rudder pressure. make the swing stop. 

>>>>>>>>>>>and i was on my way across to the rest of the river.

'''''happy explorer now````

i spent the remaining 4 hours of my shift exploring yukon gravel bars. all the while heading in the right direction, down river, just close enough to understand what's happening on this new side.

too shallow for barges, i used that area of the yukon years later as a wind route, during a yukon 800 race.

and was also used in high water by the ramona on upriver runs because of it's good slack water.

 

on that hot..lazy yukon river day, i learned to not use the whole river unless i had to.

the store boat would load in fairbanks at a landing called weavers,

the weaver bros. fuel transport header to galena. the bulk tanks are still there.
their tug was the skookum, a very fast twin tunnel tug with a single narrow 50,000 gal. tanker barge.

when dad, our captain, thought everything was aboard and in the store to complete a trip to holy cross, we'd cast off on the winding, narrow, swift run to nenana. 75 miles or so.  only takes 10-12 hours with a barge drawing 2' of water.  takes twice as long to go up empty.
 the first leg is a dandy!!  if one leaves early enough it can be done in one alaskan summer day. otherwise gonna spend the night somewhere between wood river and nenana. 10-20 miles short of our 1st stop, nenana.

it's ok to camp as long as we're at the dock when coghill's standard oil opened first thing in the morning, some trips our plan was to camp, as we called it. sleeping on the tug.   to break camp....we'd cast off..

take on our fuel in 50 gal drums.  the barge back deck held 20 barrels.

usually filled them all with diesel as well as the engine day tank.

then we cast off>>>>>>> the trip starts

next leg is to old minto. only called minto at the time. 3 hrs...35 miles or so.....  1st stop for store.

and then on to the yukon.  but....the best laid plans of...we never made it to holy cross with a fully stocked store.

could only make kaltag then have to return to fairbanks and restock. do it over again.

this became the family summer routine for the first 15 yrs.  5 or 6 runs to kaltag a summer.

holy cross became a special trip in the fall!!

what fun that was.  time to fill the freezer.

this is the story of how i fell into this luck of growing up on a river. it's a gift.

dad and i navigated, learned these waters together. memorized horizons,  points, sloughs,  cotton wood and spruce stands.

 i'd learn about  reading water and life.............not entirely unlike.

thank you Claude and Martha demientieff for giving me such a wonderful life.

this blog is for you. rip, i love you.

with a third grade education dad built our life with his own hands. in the 1950's He was one of the cat skinners on the construction of the dewline.  returning after one  long rotation  been away for quite a stretch.  my 6 yo baby sister, ramona, didn't recognize him for a moment. 
during his free time on the slope he had been making drawings of a tug boat and covered barge to hold a general store.  when mona became a bit nervious and hesitant, he said ok..that's it. 

he had made a decision.

we are gonna go build a tug and barge, make it into a store. travel the river, open the store business in each community till we run out. then return to fairbanks, restock. do it over again till the ice run.

that's how it started.  my baby sister, ramona, is the genesis of claude demienrieff, sr.'s river business.  not surprisingly the tug was named ramona.  typical of that generation. dad simply set out to do it. make his dream real.  keep everyone  together....he can be home.. quit the dewline job and went into business.  that was in 1960.

we built the two hulls in the yard of columbia lumber; in the area around 18th and cushman, fairbanks
the lumber yard is no longer there.
dad got a $10,000 sba loan, set up an account with max hundorf, the manager at the time and went to work. 

many people would come around watch. sometimes help.  my uncle rudy seemed to always be available, when something essential or extra hard  needed doing..  dad's brother, we could always count on uncle rudy.

long daylight makes for pleasant work evenings.  i didn't have to do much for the $5/wk that was my allowance.. follow dad's drill with a box of brass 3" wood screws and a can of red paint..i learned how to work till the job or sun was done. learned how to work by simply dipping a wood screw into paint, start it into a pre-drilled hole. dad would go around  back behind me with a screw gun sinking each screw holding 2" plywood to 2 x 10 ribs.

it took all spring and a good part of the first barging season.  worked till it was done.

finished with the 2 hulls and all that could be done there.. she was ready to be turned over, loaded on a flatbed trailer and  brought to the river to be set down close to the water for finish and a launch.

dad chose a slip at the end of a road on the chena.  a trucking company lifted and moved these plywood hulls in the middle of night through fairbanks over a gravel college road, down university ave. to the chena at the end of the road.. the ramona was launched right on the north shore of the chena where the university ave. bridge now lives.

set it down close to the water and the work continued.

in short order the barge had walls, a roof,  and store shelving.

the tug, a cabin, engine, and pusher knees with tackle.

exploring the controls and wheel house perched high on top, i did not know the helm was to be my study hall for the next 45 years. i learned how shafts could go through hulls without leaking.  how engines tie in.

to pick and tie the right knot for the job, mainly a special knot which could be taken apart no matter how much strain was applied.

a simple, amazing knot, the bowline.  double bowline being perfect for a tow harness.

setting out on this adventure...i had only eager anticipation.  now turned into fond memories of working long into a fairbanks summer evening,  till mom would makes us stop by calling at 10 or 11pm,  " i warmed up our dinner left overs........... made fresh tea, and it's rreadyyy!" 

eventually all was ready.  launch time. the blessing and christening set,

mom's best friend, mary van hatten, was asked to break a bottle of champagne over a crowbar hung on the bow.  to give the tug a name.

father richard carrol, S.J. blessed the vessels and work.  and the ramona was born.  people brought food and beer and we had a special river side picnic and a short barge ride on an chena river summer evening.

received our first truck deliveries, loaded by rollers.  and we're off...........

while traveling or tied up, it was common for mom and dad to be in the barge. stocking shelves, cleaning, always working.

getting ready to open the store at the upcoming village.  mom liked to get special things for the kids.  we carried a blue ball of bubble gum called satellite. was the only time it came to town.  anticipated by village children.  years later, she'd ask grown people,  are you one of my buble gum babies?

store booooaat is commming!!!!STORE BOAT!!  we could hear as we approached a village.

  mostly the store was general merchandise.  sugar, flour,coffee,salt, etc.  occasionally we'd stop at a fish cxamp with gardens to trade staples for fresh vegetables to be sold farther down along the line.

and that's how this journey begins