night navigation

i awake at 11:30 pm, very much rested and ready to start my shift. the pilot's shift at midnight. I'll be relived by dad on his captain's shift at 6:00 am. how these shifts started are unknown to me, but all the interior river tugs follow the same 6 hours on, 6 off routine.

stepping out my cabin door on the upper deck i can see the prop wash from the back deck light. showing the tops of many swells behind the tug, the river beyond is pitch dark.  we're steady as she goes..the waves are straight and i generally know where we are along the yukon by calculating our speed with the time i laid down after dinner at 6:00pm.  it was just starting to turn twilight at that time and we were passing eagle slide. a clear night with a low waxing crescent moon means the tree line and hills can be seen if one does not look directly at them. for a moment i stand along the side rail on the starboard upper deck to gather my night vision. by looking just above the trees or hills it's not difficult to make out the ridge line or stands of timber along the river.  i check to see if the valley for simon creek is just ahead. a narrow notch in the hills along the yukon's north bank. i find simon creek in the darkness, but have to shield my eyes from the running lights. i know where we are by the shape of the ridge above us. dad is out from the shore on a straight stretch and the river is calm and peaceful. it is precisely the area where i thought i would resume my shift. dad hits the search light and finds the rock bluff just below simon creek.  now i know exactly where we are as i go down to the back deck and enter the galley. the galley's bright light blinds me as i fill a Thermos of fresh coffee. i can hear steve, the deckhand assigned to my shift drop to the deck loudly. much to my annoyance since such sounds while running at night are  signs of problems. he opens the door squints from the bright galley and asks,"where are we?" i tell him, and explain once again why he should not run or jump around at night.  the engine remains steady, i know dad felt steve's thump and opened the side door to look out toward the back at the prop wash to see if the prop is kicking anything out. there's no change in rpm so i know he's satisfied that all is well as i climb to the wheel house. his eyes are already accustomed and can see me good, while i'm half blind. i greet dad asking, "was the ol' man in blackburn?" he nods yes and says two boats, meaning clint had company. smiling he steps from the helm chair and stretches while i let my eyes adjust to the darkness outside the closed wheel house windows. he hits the search light and says "simon creek is right there." "yep" i say.  he reads my lips and nods OK, satisfied i've got my bearings. we're making good time and the weather is holding. he leaves the wheel house and heads to his cabin just below. as soon as i sit down, i shine the light on the bow wave to see how the two barges are riding, i memorize it's movement so that i can detect any changes later if need be. moving the light from the bow toward the beach, i find the shore line and establish my mental bearings and distance from the beach. everything is how it is supposed to be. from now on i will use the search light sparingly. avoiding all light to preserve my night vision.

this is an easy stretch of the river with a long low ridge following the Yukon, i cannot run way out in the middle because there is a big gravel bar in the middle of the yukon straight out from the rock bluff below simon creek. it's still very deep with plenty of water for the ramona. but i stay away to be absolutely sure, favoring the ridge. i confirm our position and look for my mark, the rock bluff, by turning off the running lights for a moment before shining the search light along the beach. passing stumps and piles of drift i find the rocks and the dark hole below the bluff that is it's eddie. a reflective fish net buoy suddenly appears in the light and all my instincts are confirmed. we are in the main channel out just close enough to miss the gravel lump yet still able to easily find the beach with our light. i turn the running lights back on..holding up one hand to shield their reflection off the load, i must protect my night vision. looking for and following the ridge line down toward the dip that i know will be grayling i begin to plan my crossing.

i cannot see the village yet, set back into it's small valley, but i know it's there. so i  hold everything steady as i imagine in my mind's eye our position in the river and the upcoming crossing from the many, many times I've been through here during the day. a single small stand of tall spruce on the other side of the river is my marker for the end of the gravel bar. i find it with the light. i can start my crossing at anytime. but i choose to wait until the third fish camp above grayling to be sure I'll miss the gravel shallow. we have no fathometer but it's at least 40+ feet deep here. i take few chances in the darkness. i can see about where each fish camp is by the notches in the ridge, another memorized marker.

it's an easy run on this stretch of the Yukon so i relax and shine a concentrated beam of red light from a pencil like light mounted with a swivel on the wheel house roof adapted from 12 volt aircraft technology. with this red light i can avoid being blinded the next time i look into the darkness outside the wheel house. we've removed all dash light bulbs to keep the wheel house completely dark with black curtains on strategic wheel house and other cabin windows. shining the red beam onto our dash i check engine temp, rpm, and oil pressure. all is well as i hit the search light again and find the start of the cut bank across the river. this time before turning off the search light i pass it over the wind sock on the  bow. it is full only from our movement. a clear calm night on the yukon. one of my favorite times. i begin to make my crossing looking for the steep cottonwood cut bank broken only by a short mud beach directly across from grayling. finding my fish camp marker i begin to cross. by the time we're half way across the river i can see the lights of grayling 5 miles below. a pair of truck headlights appear and start bouncing along the beach. i see it climb the bank. whoever is up and around the village landing has just shown me where the village slip is. despite the blind from grayling's lights i point the search light toward the town landing and the receding tail lights. the shine of aluminum boats lined up in front of town stand out against the darkness all along the gravel beach and into the mouth of the grayling river. all this tells me we are right where we are suposed to be. we missed the gravel bar, finished the crossing and should be approaching a long slough with a mud beach full of moose willows. this marker  is also the yukon end of the winter portage to shageluk on the innoko river.  about the time i'm straight scross from the village, the truck reappears and flashes it's headlights at us.  knowing we have nothing to pickup or drop off..i take it as a hello from an unknown grayling friend. although about a mile away i can still flood them with our search light to acknowledge. then i flash the running lights off and on to say goodbye. their parking lights flash.

in the search light i look for and find the winter portage to the innoko, it's my mark for the start of a high cottonwood cut bank. the crossing is over and i now focus on how parallel we are to the bank. a bit oblique, i straighten it out by looking behind the tug at the ridge we are leaving. so far i'm having a very easy shift, so i use the search light to scan the top of the cutbank. playing a bit and looking along the edge for shining eyes from animals coming out to the river. there's nothing, so i turn all lights off and concentrate on the upcoming islands, visualizing the turn of the main channel and the Hugh sandbars below grayling. i can see the hill at anvik 18 miles away, the runway lights are off.

with sandbars in the middle, the main channel gradually follows a cottonwood point along a big island then turns sharply toward anvik after passing the mouth of the anvik river.

but rather than take the main channel i choose to make better time by going on the inside of garden island through a slough we called rudy's slough.  i never did learn it's real name since we never used maps or charts. we called it rudy's because my dad's brother had a fish camp at it's lower end. it is narrow at the head with two quick turns then opens up into a long wide stretch. it cuts off maybe a mile or so of river and avoids the lights of anvik entirely. perfect for a return shortcut, but for me and tonight a much more interesting challenge on this otherwise uneventful night. gradually easing the barges toward the inside sandbar point at the head of the slough i scan the willow point and adjust our position as we enter the slough.  finding the snags in the first bend i again adjust our position and correct our drift by easing closer to the sand point. once i see the head of the slough behind me i straighten the wheel to stop all drift. the half dozen snags and the cut bank full of sweepers at the entrance show bright in the search light. after turning toward the opposite sandbar/willow point, i begin to make the turn to starboard to avoid the snags i know are there in the next bend. the slough is narrow here and the search light picks out all the snags, points, and willows easily. reassured i'm not going to run over anything while starting into the final turn, i immerse the tug into complete darkness by turning off all lights. the tree line immediately shows perfectly lined out in the moon light and i can easily see the long stretch ahead. all along this stretch i have other  markers memorized.  the end of a willow bar full of goose grass, a tall stand of spruce, a single bobbing snag halfway through the slough. the ridge is no longer visible behind me now. it's all instinct and prior experience. visualizing our position in my head. i see the one shallow spot in the middle of the slough half way through at the bobbing snag. i watch the bow wave just as much as i look for the telltale willows or timber stands. should the barge begin to push the wave ahead i know it's getting very shallow and must adjust or full reverse quickly, no room for indecision. dad would always tell me about these times,"a good pilot is always right, seldom wrong, and never undecided."
i'm not concerned since i've been through here many times. satisfied we're ok, i relax. again checking the engine gages and sipping my coffee. pleased with this short cut maneuver. i know now that we'll be close to bonazilla about the time dad returns at 6:00. it will then be daybreak in an area of the yukon where the channel goes among many sandbars far out away from  cut banks and hills or any markers. navigation is possible. but it's a more difficult place to run in the darkness since there are only low sandbar points, and very few stumps, only "dim" markers to reveal the tug location.  the perfect place to welcome a new day.  just what i want to happen for dad, knowing he'll be pleased. the shortcut will serve it's purpose.

reaching the end of the uncle's stretch we are close to the mouth of the slough and uncle rudy's camp. i can see the tops of the cottonwood patch, with two tall spruce at the cottonwood cluster's lower end, across from his old camp. i begin to maneuver for the final 2 turns and our reentry into the main yukon.  i hit the search light and find the old smoke house, swinging the light quickly to find the lower point of garden island marking the main yukon. the slough is a little narrower here so i have no trouble following the sandbar point full of goose grass to the diamond willow cut bank point marking the end of the island created by this slough. a fishnet buoy in the point is my final mark and we're back into the yukon where i can easily see the hill of anvik  behind me up the main river where the village and the anvik river is. i find the high cottonwood cut bank again below and align anvik's hill in the pilot house windows to position the ramona in about the middle of the main channel. the faint light of sunrise is brightening behind me as i point the tug straight down along the gradual bend of the cut bank toward the hill that is bonazilla, i draw the black curtain to shut out the reflection of the sunrise. one final crossing to bonazilla. my shift will soon be over. i can hear dad moving around, he comes into the wheel house to retrieve the now empty Thermos.

he asks, " you go through rudy's?" "how was it?"  although deaf, i tell him in our own way the story of all the snags, some new and others gone, and he smiles. daylight is coming upon us quickly and i give him the wheel. bonnazilla is in sight, my turn to sleep. i will awake when dad opens it up in reverse to turn the load around in ghost creek slough to land at holy cross. then i will again go to work, this time unloading in a flurry of gnats and an eager contractor wanting to rush. the city hurry, they forget we're still floating and must consider weight, balance, and the logic of simple physics to unload safely. sometimes a nuisance, i try to insist..to just give me your crew and go call the office. it'll be on the beach when you get back.

most do...but some know it all, and do not like listening to me, this teenage kid. stubborn ones want dad. i tell them no..he's sleeping, annoyed i take our crew and just get to work laying ramps. i tell them to warm up the key stone piece of equipment that must move first, then i guide them off. kicking the back of the machinery as they leave. then we easily finish the unloading. the 1st piece gone makes lots of room. there's no time to fool around, we'll be returning the 650 miles upriver to nenana as soon as the ramps are back aboard. mom happily welcomes visitors in the galley, knowing we will not be long here.

when i first began to learn these things as a boy i had the captains shift because it was in the day time and i had yet to memorize my own markers. the pilot house a study hall surrounded by yukon beauty.
before learning, one of my fondest memories is of laying in my bunk with dad at the wheel in the pitch dark.  i'm warm and comfortable with a deep sense of absolute security knowing dad was at the wheel. the hum of the engine and a gentle rock or shutter of the tug the only reminders that we're moving and the river was still there. i knew that no matter how dark or where we were, i was safe and all was ok as long as dad was at the wheel.

rising at 5:30am, i loved stepping out into a morning chill, maybe a light breeze to take my first 6 hour day shift at the wheel.  then for 6 hours twice a day every day for 6 months of 35 years i followed the channels of the yukon and tanana rivers paying close attention to detail. not always looking at the river in front of me, but the horizon forward,behind, and "overthere". when we were positioned correctly i selected a marker and looked for it every time we went by, whether on shift or not. updating my memory with our position in the river.

one of my markers on the tanana below manley is a crooked aspen, curled by growing on the hillside. when i last went by, it was still there but now with 3 curls.  i first found it when it's 2 unusual curls caught my attention as i slowly went by right along the beach. in as close to the shore slack water as i could. it stood out where i needed to find my upriver crossing. eventually i didn't need to cross. i found instead more slack water and it became an important marker for me on my upriver slack water night run along a long sandbar close to the hill where i could make good time avoiding the current. my curly aspen still lives there today. it's such an unusual growth.  i've showed it to a only few people, knowing they could never find it again on their own. the best way to bring it home is by a picture since i would not want to cut it down or bring it home to clean up and display. it belongs there. after all it was working on a 4th curl when i last went by. the river keeps moving but my crooked, curly aspen is still in the same place. on the side of an old slide along a hill.

the river lets me know that i'm right where i'm suppose to be...come hell or high water.

i'm ok as long as i trust my life long markers and instinct. when i doubt myself, i look around to try and understand how and why i am where i am. i'm suppose to be here. what should i learn and where are my new markers. such is the life of a serious river rat.

the MV Ramona awaiting a 2010 spring launch

loading, leaving, sounding. entering the yukon.

the last piece of our load is waiting on the slip just before the ramp, a small 40 ton cat without a ripper, destined for an airport upgrade job in holy cross. the grader and compactor have already been loaded making the barge stuck on the landing. it must be freed before the cat is loaded.

deckhands cast off the stern line, leaving the bow line tied. there's just enough room for dad to load the cat cross ways on the barge. engine warmed up i turn the wheel in and engage.  takes a little while for everything to move because the tug is connected but staying loose to one barge.....until the cat is loaded.

without pulling away from the landing, i slide the barge off the beach with a tiny goose of the engine.  lifting the ramp she floats free.  i disengaged the prop and let both barges drift back against the beach pulling the bow line tight with a crisp snap.  there's a slow light bump as we touch the gravel slip. deckhands drop the ramp. i signal dad sitting on the cat that i'm ready and standing by, just in case. ready to push hard against the beach and stop all movement. to get it stuck. he lowers the cat blade onto the ramp and holds everything steady. she's now floating free, a small list to the starboard (right), but otherwise free.  i turn the wheel out to keep the stern in to the beach without power using only the current against dual 4 ft rudders.
satisfied i come down from the wheel house. dad smiles as he lifts the cat blade and walks the cat till the tracks just touch the ramp. vessels secure we can now set the load.  it's a light one, 65 tons, but not yet full and listing slightly.  engine idling we inspect the barge and tug tackle, a low hum from the engine room reminding us that the job is not yet done.  all vessel lines, except the bow, are free and slack. nothing is stuck or caught, she's ready.  keeping all cables loose dad walks the cat on. deckhands and i lay scrap planks (dunnage) on the deck just ahead of the moving tracks.  steel against steel is slippery. for this load  it must sit slightly forward of center because fuel for the trip has yet to be loaded astern.

must finish the loading but cannot hurry as the sun drops lower. everything else is aboard. food for the trip, extra engine oil filters, cleaned and folded bedding, a new carton of monkey face gloves.

i turn the pusher knee winches and tighten the tug snug against the barge. tight but not secure. everything is ready to move into the river to balance the load.

just need to fuel up at the nenana dock, a half mile below.

to fuel up i must drop down to the dock backwards.  it's much too close to turn around.

turning the wheel i make the bow line slack, i signal the crew to untie. untied i turn the wheel out making the barge starboard stern corner hit the beach with just enough force to bounce off the beach and into the current. at an idle, i point the bow directly into the river current. when everything is straight, i engage reverse and goose the engine. we will drift down to the dock backwards.  since there is no wind i return to the barge, letting everything drift.  we know our load for sure now as it all floats free.  using the cat we level the load, moving 6" in either direction till the water is level with the deck on both sides. my eyes always watching our drift position and barge swing.  after winching the tug tackle hard, i return to the wheel house. aiming the stern downriver i open it up for just a few minutes to speed up our drift backwards.  she's heavy, but not bad. a little touchy maybe, but now we know and can "feel" our load.  gradually the tug and two loaded barges drift stern first down to the dock.

as the outfit reaches the dock area. i ease into forward at an idle again, slowing our drift. despite heavy loads much tug work is done in idle. preferring to use momentum and the current. i ease the barges sideways closer to the wooden dock. as it approaches, i again goose the engine to stop drifting, redirecting all  movement to a glide sideways, crossing the last of the river on our approach.  just before reaching i turn the bow out, goose the engine a final time.  stopping all downriver and sliding movement.  in idle i straighten the barges to align parallel to the dock and slowly ease the starboard stern corner to the dock timbers. they touch and pieces of the dock fall to the deck and float off as the corner touches and dips under water.  she stops as the entire length touches aganst the dock with a heavy bump despite the slow maneuver. the water is low so our deckhands must climb the dock bumpers from the bow 10 feet to the top of the dock and tie to the ceosote timber pilings leaning from years of holding countless barges.  without a wind, there's no need for a stern line, using instead turned in rudders to hold tight against the crumbling nenana dock. once the line is secure i leave the wheel house and shut the engine down. climbing the grader cab i can easily jump onto the dock from the top of it's hugh rear tires. water is very low and i'm able to easily step off the tire onto a dusty dock to a planked fuel header.

dad and jack coghill are already letting out fuel hoses from the header and dropping the nozzel down to a deck hand far below. after resetting the meter to zero, we begin taking on all the fuel we will need for the trip down and return.  the first fill is the engine day tanks within the ramona bow.  100 gallons tops that tank.  the main storage tanks are inside the stern of the barge. opened and vented, the pumping starts. the barge storage tank will hold 2800 gallons and will be close to sinking the  stern, leveling the load fore to aft.  after it fills we move the cat and grader again to balance the load, starboard to port.

while deckhands fuel up, dad and i talk about the low water and sinking daylight.  we make plans to leave this afternoon rather than spend the night and start at daybreak. mom has already cooked dinner on board. after fueling up, we eat then cast off for the 1 week trip to holy cross. because we're loosing our summer daylight and twilight plays tricks when reading water, we make plans to push hard and try to make manley hot springs before shutting down for the night.  this would put us into the yukon the following afternoon where we can run all night with this load and reach eagle island  by tomorrow night.  the low water is of some concern but we know where and how the channel is moving from our last return upriver.

loaded and fueled we cast off. drawing 3 feet. this load just a little touchy but not of concern. we chain bind the two barges hard against eachother.  the tug tackle is so tight we can walk on the cables like walking on pavement.  i let the stern corner contact the dock and the entire outfit bounces away from the dock while i swing the wheel hard to port and give it just a touch of power.  she starts to swing hard. i let it swing faster and faster so it will point down river quickly.  as she swings, i slow to an idle then engage reverse letting the current complete the turn as i write the date, time and other information into our log book.
it's narrow here so to make a quick turn the current must do most of the work in order for the load to miss the bridge pilings for the parks highway below. by the time she is completely turned and set for our down river run we've  gone under the bridge and reached the mouth of the nenana river. with low water there is very little current coming out of the nenana.  otherwise it's current would hit the side of the port barge run over the deck and make everything lean heavily. but not today as i straighten the wheel and increase the engine to 2800 rpm.  as soon as the water starts boiling over the stern i throttle back to 2400. the bow wave looks normal, a thin dark line leaving the bow edge returning to mid-barge and running onto the deck.  this is just right when the wheel is held straight and the load moves steady ahead without any movement to the left or right...no swing.  we're moving at about 10-15 mph. the wind sock on the bow fills.  all will be good until the first major crossing at swan neck, 5 miles or so below old minto in about 2 hours.  because the water is low there are sandbars showing everywhere.  a good opportunity to study and memorize the channel changes.  i can see that the water is still dropping by the tiny cut banks on each sandbar point. it's a clear calm summer evening. every boil and slack water shallow is visible for the trained eye in this light.  the run to old minto is easy and we make good time. low water making it easy to see the channel without sounding.

at old minto dad comes to the wheel house with his coffee and takes the wheel.  immediately he gives it another 200 rpm and more water runs on the deck. but this is a straight stretch so the water immediately runs back off.

this is my cue to jump into our little sounding boat, warm the motor and ready my sounding poles, i leave the ramona for swan neck crossing just below. taking a short cut and running fast as i can, i try to give myself as much time as possible to find this crooked channel before the tug arrives. i know dad is pushing it hard so must hurry.
i look first where the channel was on the last trip by dropping a sharpened 5 foot dry spruce pole, marked with one foot red markers. dropping the sharpened tip alongside the sounding boat at full speed i search for the sandbar. as soon as i touch the bottom i go back toward the channel and dip again.  finding the edge i cross and look for the opposite edge of the channel. touching again i can now see how wide the entrance is and follow it to the cut bank below. reaching the cut bank, i select a sweeper or snag as my marker for the end of the crossing. this crossing swings wide and low before reaching a cut bank timber stand on the south shore. after finding the channel mouth i return up to the narrow entrance just in time to see the ramona come around the point turning and swinging wide to align with the channel that i know dad can now see by the waves i've already made. drifting sideways he points the bow directly to me, waiting on the upriver shallow side of the channel. i can hear engine power applied as dad straightens out the drift and starts to come almost upon me sitting along the channel edge.  just when the bow is almost on top of me i turn and head straight to my cut bank marker and circle marking the deepest part of the channel. sitting and drifting again i watch the barge slide. dad knows not to drop too low in this S turn and begins to straighten out the load as he approaches the cut bank. as he reaches the cut bank, the crossing is over. a bit narrow and crooked, but otherwise uneventful.
my father is deaf so we never used radios.  all communication is from the movement of the sounding boat responding to the position of the load. we are a team. back into deep water and a wider channel, the ramona resumes speed.
hearing the engine speed up i return to the ramona. deck hands catch my sounding boat and tie it up along side the tug stern.  i go into the galley to wait for the next spot, a long sounding trip of about 10 miles and 4 major crossings. a place called McKinley, this will be the the first of  5 difficult stretches before reaching the yukon another 150 miles below. since we are not at full throttle it's clear we must stop and camp at twilight. better to tie up rather than to spend the night stuck in the middle of the river on a sandbar with dropping water.

with fresh fuel tanks i sound the entire length of McKinley before returning to the ramona.  it is unchanged and clearly marked by many sandbars and islands across the entire river width. bringing my coffee i take the wheel again to give dad a break. we're both a little tired, having risen at daybreak to finish loading. since i've sounded and found the channel, i keep the wheel while dad lays down. at  tolovana dad takes the wheel back and is pleased. we've making good time and it looks as though we will pass our original tie up plans. we are now looking at shuttting down around cosna slough. this would make it a good run for this day, 150 miles or so. giving us the notorious squaw crossing in the heat of tomorrow afternoon.  we'll be in the yukon tomorrow no problem. after handing the wheel back to dad, i lay down till i hear the engine change speed.
looking out my window i see this is not a changed channel in need of sounding, but the sound of the ramona turning around in the river to tie up in a timber point above cosna bluff. the channel here and in the cosna cutoff does not need sounding but i get up anyway and watch as we shut down for the night.
tied up, dad and i sit in the galley with a glass of whiskey relaxing. we talk of tomorrow's squaw crossing and the entrance into the yukon. whoever was at the wheel on our last return up river through these areas tells the story of how the river was behaving and where the channel might be now. we make plans to leave at first light, about 5am. mom is happy we've come so far without incident, listening to our conversation she asks about the more difficult crossings tomorrow and what time we expect to be in the yukon. reassured she lays back down with her book.
filling us with anticipation, she tells us she will bake bread and Cinnamon rolls tomorrow. and when we reach the yukon she'd like to buy a fresh king salmon at the first chance. all is well on the ramona so we cut the light plant and everyone heads to their bunk listening to the hiss of tiny bubbles against the hull escaping from under the tug and between the barges. tomorrow the yukon, where we will run without sounding 24 hours/day until returning to nenana about 2 weeks hence.

i'm awakened by dad starting the engine, warming up in gear and with the wheel turned in holding the bow against the beach. i smell fresh coffee and can hear dad go onto the barge to untie and take in the line. by the time he returns i'm with my coffee on the back deck which is gently vibrating from the idling prop just below my feet. dad and i talk for a moment as we see the rising sun begin to touch the tops of the timber across the river. we each know what's coming so there's little to discuss. there's no change in plans and the low water is an advantage giving no problems so far. dad says let's go>>and climbs to the wheel house. i sip my coffee and watch as he uses the eddie made by this point to turn the load around within the length of one barge. i admire his skill and ability to not waste any movement. i bask in the morning sunlight and watch this quiet point and eddie drift out of sight. mom has come down and starts breakfast. the 2 deckhands are begining to move around.  i poke the ribs of lazy ones as i go to the wheel house and take the wheel so dad can eat first. by the time i've gone through cosna slough, dad is back and i take my breakfast. pushing hard, dad has already reached the cutoff buy the time i'm finished.

with topped off sounding boat gas tanks. i quickly sound the entrance to fish creek slough.  it's a little crooked but unchanged with a hugh snag marking the high side of the entrance. not a problem. there's always a good deep channel through the slough.  just the entrance is crooked. as soon as i see the ramona come out from behind the island and turn toward the slough i circle twice at the snag, marking it as the entrance.  when dad heads directly toward my mark i leave him and the ramona to navigate the slough on their own.  i take a race boat short cut on the inside of one island, dancing through  many sandbars directly to squaw crossing 5 miles below.

the most challenging part of the river. squaw crossing is where the river spreads wide making many small channels twisting around hundreds of sandbars. low water shows more bars but also concentrates the remaining water in fewer spots. making it easier to get through. still not a place to let one's guard down.

my shortcut and speed gives me extra time to sound the entire length of the crossing long before the ramona arrives. so i play a little bit and explore how the water is moving the silt.  i can feel the bottom of the river with my sounding pole now dull and splashing from many high speed dips. i touch the shallow river bottom, the foundation. if it's hard as a rock there's a new bar. i find where it begins and ends. if it's soft the river is cutting a new channel. i follow it's new course till the water runs out. i now know what the river is doing and have a new story for dad. i can see the ramona in the distance far up along the  high sand cutbanks above. time to stop exploring and go back to work.
the crossing entrance turns hard to starboard and goes between two willow islands on this trip, only a small change from the last time.  i wait below squaw point at the channel entrance, the ramona quickly appears drifting sideways aiming for my location. dad knows where i'm waiting and has already begun the hard turn starting the run to avoid the island and it's sandbar just below. circling i mark the high side to the entrance. he gives it more throttle. the channel is narrow but low water cuts deep channels. once he gets between the sandbar islands, i run to the cut bank below, showing him just how wide it is and how close he can get to the two islands. at the cut bank i wait again, drifting in the channel watching as he skillfully puts the load exactly in the deepest widest part of what water there is to use.  not waiting till the bow is almost upon me i turn and go down to the next narrow at 8 mile island. the wheel house can now see the yukon and we are through the worst part of squaw, but there are 3 more narrows before the safety of the mighty yukon. when dad reaches the sand bluffs at 8 mile, i turn and begin sounding the remaining way to mission island and the entrance into the yukon.

this is the final leg before the wide deep yukon. taking my mark from the mouth of Hayes slough the channel is pushed wide back into the tanana r by the current of the yukon.  i find where it is forced to go. it is at this place where the only marker is a low cut bank sandbar below and a boiling lump in the middle of the river.  sounding the lump i wait for the Ramona sitting on top of the hidden lump. three feet of water here which our bow can run over without any problem.  dad swings out from Hayes slough then heads directly to me drifting on this shallow spot. swinging wide in the river the load drifts sideways as the bow glides right by me.  i can tap the bow of the barge with my 5 foot pole. dad is cutting it close in order to avoid the one visible cut bank sandbar 100 yards below.  as soon as i can see the wheel house again, i turn and dip my stick at full speed all the way to the lower end of mission island. i know dad can see this. he follows pushing harder to stop the slide. reaching mission island i circle to mark the center of the channel and begin looking for the dip in the silt ridge across the entrance to the yukon river.  since the water is low in both rivers i easily find the deepest part of this ever present ridge. there were some fall trips where there was no water and we had to use weight, current and momentum to ram the ridge's deepest spot and force our way over into the deep waters of the yukon. but today it is deep enough. i dip my pole all the way to my elbow and cannot touch bottom, low water has cut it deep.  i circle on top this spot and then stand  in the sounding boat drifting into the yukon.  i know dad sees it clearly and that it's safe now. not long till i hear the motor open up.  we've made the yukon and everyone can relax.

before returning to the tug i pull up along side the barges and drift, running a little faster now the barge deck is full of water.  i study the load. everything looks fine. water is running off as fast as it is coming on, clean Yukon water washing off tanana river silt. drifting past the wheel house i give dad an OK and he gives it even more power. a deck hand catches my boat as i pull up along side the stern.  a little wet and tired, i step onto a now strongly vibrating back deck. i can smell mom's bread and Cinnamon rolls.

the Yukon is wide and deep. and there's much relief. we've done it again without incident. mom smiles and hands me a slice of hot fresh bread with melted butter. sitting on the back deck with my snack i watch the village of tanana go by before laying down.  we work shifts from now on.  i will go to work at midnight until 6am. visiting dad in the wheelhouse before i lay down, he says, "that was easy. go to bed!" yes sir, i respond. but he can only read my lips. our satisfaction the only visible communication. his deafness was never an obstacle.

the hum of the motor and the sun shining through my open cabin door lulls me to sleep. we're on our way to holy cross another 450 miles, the toughest part behind us.

for many years i envied the faster sounding boats, depth finders and radios of yutana barge lines.  but now i look back and see that i learned to embrace the river rather than measure it. dad and i worked so closely,
i believe now those fancy things would of only gotten in our way. today i'm in my element when on the river. i've touched it's very essense, my soul has been washed by it's silt.  it is alive for me and i know it intimately.
in the 18 hours it took the ramona to travel from nenana to the yukon river, i found much more than channels and sandbars with a stick.
much more than yutana did in the 23 hours it takes them with all their fancy equipment.

it's much more than simple pride in my dad and the business he built.
it's a deep personal satisfaction in knowing something that few get a chance to learn. taught by one of the last original self made river captains. and now i get to write and tell others about these years.  the demientieff family has a long history river captains.  while not a captain myself,  i'm humbled by the skill given to me. other captains hand me the wheel of their vessels without discussion or reservation and  take a break in their galley or bunk.  i'm given trust and confidence by my peers. a gift indeed.

thank you dad...RIP i've got the wheel now.

the ramona's transition from store boat to freight operations

the ramona moved into exclusively freight after 10 years operating a store boat in the summer and a shore based store in the winter, first in nulato then later in galena.

i was only a boy just coming of age when.....

changes in alaska set in motion a change for the business.  oil was discovered on the north slope. and the state of alaska began a series of village infrastructure improvements.

some where along the line dad became good friends with the owners of Ghemm Co., a major construction contractor.  they had been awarded the job to drill water wells at the schools for koyukuk, hughes, allakaket, russion mission and marshall.  dad and ghemm co. entered into a full time charter agreement to haul the drill rig and it's supplies to each location. wait for the well to be drilled, reload and go to next site.  the 24 hr charter was for loading, moving, or standby until the work was done, one entire summer.

for this job, dad cut the house off the barge, leaving a plywood hull with small front and back decks and a 3' drop down into the barge, rimed by a 8" walk around the edge of the barge.

the wheels of that drill rig barely fit with all the blocking used to roll it in. the drill pipe fit high along both sides of the rig.  the barge modification and loading was done in Fairbanks in the late 60's.  turned out to be by far the heaviest load we had ever had up to that time, 50 tons.  loading up with fuel in nenana, we stowed drums of diesel  in every corner, any place there was a level surface to stand a barrel.

this was our first trip up the koyukuk river, and the first below holy cross.

wasn't long before construction chartering became more lucrative than groceries.

dad started looking for a freight barge.

it just so happened that the old FAA sites were changing and the city of tanana acquired 4 bulk fuel tanks from the faa, approx 50,000 gallons each.

i don't know where or when these bulk tanks were built but they had been built as 50'x30' barges.  watertight on the top and bottom. floated to tanana pulled out and set up as bulk fuel storage.  dad bought 2 of these steel barges.  a third went to harold esmailka in ruby.  i saw it still there when i last drove by. i don't know how but 40 years later the 4th ended up in the mouth of the tolovana river with doug bowers at the old tolovanna roadhouse, where it still sits today.

after a couple years taking on other jobs using these barges to grow the freight operation, we spent one entire spring widening the barges and modifying the bows and sterns of both to make them easier to push as they were only designed to float once down to the village then sit still holding fuel. without the barge modification, the ramona at full throttle would push the bow under water.  we gave it a normal barge shape, adding 12 feet to the bow and 5 feet to the stern and 4 feet wider on each side.  cleaned the rusty, oily inside. after much spring work and money we had our first freighter. that was about 1973. i gave my entire season's pay to become a full time partner, and now assumed the pilot's shift (noon to 6pm and midnight to 6am each day). dad took the captain's shift, the other half of our 24 hour days.

after lengthening and widening the ramona the following spring, we bought a second engine, another 671 jimmy with a 3/1 gear reduction turning a 38" 4-blade prop with a 42" pitch.  this way we could rebuild one motor while the other keeps working.  when it wore out, we could in one day switchout the rebuilt with the worn. repeat and keep moving.  it was during the transition to freight that we started loading in nenana as opposed to fairbanks.  because of the width and depth of the tanana we could take heavier loads out of nenana. but on occasion and by special arrangement we would go up to the chena and take on a load there. very difficult swift stretch of river for barges, but possible. one of my stories will include one of these trips.

it wasn't uncommon to load right to the deck for our two steel barges. each holding 60 tons.  people would look at our load, shake their head...water right to the deck. any kind of wave washing over.  in fact at 160 lbs i would walk across the stern from starboard to port or vice versa and make the load list one way then the other.

people would ask, where you going with that?  downriver! it was OK.  loaded to the deck the barges never leaked from bottom or top, those two old steel barges sealed up tight.

with water on the deck, they couldn't be pushed at full throttle 24 hours a day.  the bow wave swings out wide to return and run over the mid-stern deck.  had to throttle back on turns since the weight of the water became a critical factor adding to the 60 tons aboard caused the vessel to lean. touchy work keeping her straight and upright while moving as fast as possible. throttling back to enter a narrow crossing, or make sharp turns, or to minimize the effects of wind.  many times a stern corner would go under. disappear until throttle eased.  then slowly float back to it's balance, shedding water.  recovering..time then again to pick the rpm up one notch and go..go..go.  get rid of this load before the wind changes.

the heavier the load the bigger the pay day.  when someone would ask dad about how much he had on board.  he say," OH..120-150 tons between the two barges, you have something you want to send down?"  there was always room on the bow for a couple more propane tanks, an outboard motor, or small truck".  things that could get wet from bow spray.  if they showed doubt he'd say,"you can't make money with free board."

right as usual, every load was maxed out, yet somehow there was always room for little things.  a snow machine, drum of gas, or propane tank. never had any free board but always had room for that one important item that missed the last trip and was needed now more ever down river.

we'd unload anywhere the freight was going.  in the village, a fish camp, any point or eddie.  our motto was, "if it's wet we go there."  and we could.  we could always find a narrow channel and keep going as long as it was deep enough, 3 feet.

it was these years freighting where i received my best river education. most of my stories will now come from this period, heavy loads, questionable conditions.  all excitement for this young man eager to learn the trade and prepare to become a captain, like dad.

the ramona was now a full time freighter.  much smaller than our competition, yutana barge lines (YBL).  but in the most basic way we needed eachother.  we couldn't haul bulk fuel, while YBL found it costly to turn around in the river and stop 600 tons just for a pickup truck or tank of propane. competing businesses can and do compliment each other.

i should say that we did not try to compete.  we each filled a need along the river that benefited customers and barge services alike.

my subsequent stories will now recall river navigation with heavy freight, narrow shallow channels and the rush to return for another load before the ice ran and the season came to a close.

wasn't long before we had a steady summer routine.  a dozen trips from nenana to the koyukon area per season, with a major  trip to holy cross and beyond.

early on dad had also found an old plank barge (80 tons) with a ramp, i think from don peterson.  100 feet long and leaked like hell each spring until the caulked timbers swell up.  he also found a small 50x25' narrow fast barge (20 tons) made out of flattened oil drums welded by billy burk in manley hotsprings.

it was with these starter barges and the faa barge tanks from tanana that mom and dad put away the store business and went exclusively into freight operations.

it wasn't long before we were hauling heavy equipment and gravel for new school construction and airport improvements.  we spent 3 years at the mouth of the yukon hauling dump trucks of gravel from saint mary's and mountain village to emmonak, allukanuk, sheldon point, and kotlik.

freighting is where this new chapter in the ramona takes on a different life.  dominated by weight and water or the lack thereof.

we always tried returning to nenana to load for the final fall run carrying our own winter supplies, and leo kriska's last chance liquor store fall delivery.  leaving one barge at leo's we'd dash down to reindeer lake near holy cross with our winter supplies on one barge before putting everything away for the winter.  try to make it back to nenana, but sometimes it was not possible. getting caught in the ice is another story.

my stories  coming now from freighting, much heavier river work.  a period when i became a real river pilot and had  most of my harrowing experiences. part of my growing up.  i never gave it much thought at the time. it was our way of life and the tug was our summer home.

a very lucky boy i was.  i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoy reliving these times with my parents.  may they rest in peace. thank you mom and dad for this life.

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.

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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