Maritime Cowboys

This cake celebrates many things: Tyson receiving his boating license, the glory of government food orders, another couple days of amazing weather, and my last trip into the field for the summer of 2010. Five of us went out to Helm Bay for a night to fill the woodshed there and the one at the adjacent cabin on Helm Creek, bringing the season full circle as I revisited the sites of my first cabin trip.

At these saltwater cabins the favored method of collecting firewood is beach logging. Dean, Brian Doyle, and Carl were dropped off on shore armed with peevees and log staples, while Tyson and I waited aboard the ship. Their job: find some good looking pieces of wood, roll them to the water's edge, pound in a staple, and push it out to sea. Our job: keep the boat off the rocks while chasing down the free-floating logs and wrangling them into submission. I'm proud to say I've finally learned how to tie a bowline knot, and I can do it in 3 seconds flat on the underside of a slippery log. Once the logs were secured to the forward cleats we towed them over to the dock in front of the cabin, added them to the growing raft, and returned for more.

A rough and tumble crew of pirates on the prowl.

Our raft of logs was sufficient to fill both woodsheds, thanks to Tyson's expert guestimations.

The trick of beach logging is to let the water do the work, letting the ocean carry the raft in on the tide. High tide was at midnight, so the inevitable pee excursions were coupled with a trip down the beach to reel the logs in. It was like Christmas coming down to the beach the next morning and having them all laying there, ready to be sliced and diced. Carl and Dean did the honors.

We had the Helm Bay woodshed filled by 9:00 that morning, and the second shed was full by the afternoon. It was a job well done, topped boots and all.

I walked out of the office yesterday for the final time, and into the ranks of the unemployed once again. Things from here are a little bit fuzzy. I leave Sunday morning to join my family for a trip to Washington, D.C., then return to Ketchikan (if I survive the culture shock) and ride the ferry down to Bellingham with Carl and Bubba. There are some planned stops with friends and family, but the final destination is up in the air. You can rest assured that there are many more adventures to come. Three cheers for the unknown!