❖ Japanese Glass Fishing Floats ❖

Vintage hand blown glass fishing floats
Saltwater People Historical Society collection.
Kindly donated by islanders 
Susan Bauer, J. C. Boyer, Irmgard Conley and M.L. Clark.

"Japanese fishing floats, like solidified bubbles of the sea itself, drift from Asia to America, where they are swept ashore onto the beaches of the Pacific Northwest. Beachcombers, picnickers, collectors, and children seek them or happen upon them unawares, and the fragile, air-filled glass balls that arrive intact end up in a roadside store, an antiques shop, a showcase, or somebody's attic––their mission fulfilled, their journey ended.
      The history and origin of these amazing little travel-minded spheres make possession more interesting to their finders and keepers. Nearly everyone living along the West Coast is familiar with the wood and cork floats used by local fishermen. But Japan, having little of either of these buoyant materials, yet abounding in a plentiful supply of cheap labor, has developed a fishing float unusual among its kind.
      To begin with, the balls are crudely made of glass that is blown by hand, easily recognized by the sea-green color, the imperfect shape, and the presence of air bubbles. Many of the balls have a Japanese character impressed into the thick 'blossom' end. These characters are the identifying marks of the fishermen, similar to a cattle brand.
      Handwoven net mesh is the only means used to confine the balls and fasten them onto the nets. This expendable cover rots away in time, allowing the float to slip out into the freedom of the wide open sea.
      Then begins the long journey to America. For the balls bob about like bubbles of foam, tossed by the winds as they ride the ceaseless current on a broad path that sweeps from Japan past the string of Aleutian Islands, down the coast of Southwestern Alaska and BC, to the coast of WA and OR––where they finally are skimmed onto shore by the prevailing westerly winds.
      These balls vary greatly in size. Some are but little larger than tennis balls, others graduate upwards through the sizes of indoor handballs, basketballs; a few jumbos have been found even larger. A second type, elongated instead of round with grooves for securing by rope on each end, also has been developed. The predominating color is the bluish-green aquamarine of sea water, but some have amber tints and a few are purple. The purple balls are the "ultra" of a collector's dream, for these were permitted to be used only by those fishing for the royal household.
      So practical and efficient have the Japanese fishing balls proven themselves that they now have been adapted by American enterprise and are replacing large numbers of our old-style floats. The American product, however, is different distinctly from the Japanese. The balls are machine made, uniformly spherical in shape and only in medium size. The glass is either the clear transparent of a milk bottle or the dark brown of a beer bottle.
      Fishing floats are not too difficult to find. There are seasons and areas for good float finding. The best season is winter or early spring, after a storm, and the best areas are the sandy ocean beaches. Rocky beaches mean sure destruction to glass objects.
      Our own beachcombing expeditions have met with varied success. The best luck we ever experienced was one winter at Tokeland. The sand beneath our toes was soft and yielding on the high dry spit and warmed by an unseasonal sun, but cool and firm as we walked the wave-tossed shoreline.
      Curiosity is a wonderful thing! Imagine the thrill of holding in your cupped hand a fragile ball with such history behind it!
      And the thrill was repeated sevenfold––for my husband picked up three Japanese fish floats in the space of the next few hours, I found two, and our two small boys, less than kindergarten age, found one each!
      So reluctant were we to leave the fascination of the uninhabited island, the tide slowly ebbed away then hesitated and turned, pouring the ocean back across the wet sands of the channel. Our return trip was made with the two boys riding on their father's shoulders while I carried the balls held high in my skirt as we half waded, half swam, back to the mainland!
      Beachcombing, like fishing, has other possibilities if one is bent more upon results than methods. Just as a fisherman may resort to a market and enjoy a fish actually caught by somebody else, so these souvenirs may be acquired in small towns along the ocean beaches from beachcombing natives.
      The biggest ball in our collection, and incidentally the largest one we ever have seen, was purchased from the attendant of a crab cart parked along the highway, and as we drove away his partner remarked: 'congratulations, George! So you finally unloaded the old white elephant!' 
      Such is the origin and romance of the Japanese fishing floats found in the Pacific Northwest––fragile, air-filled bubbles of glass, traveling thousands of miles on a sweeping path from Asia to America, before finally being washed ashore by the restless sea."
Above text by Charlotte Widrig
Published by The Seattle Times, 1951.

Tokeland, WA,  inscribed in upper left of map.
Detail of a postcard from the archives of S.P.H.S.
Click to enlarge.

    

Glass fishing floats found in Washington State.
Color photo by O'Neill of Long Beach, WA.
Other two photos by Ellis, all undated from
the archives of the S. P. H. S. 

❖ WINDENTIDE ❖ Built in Deer Harbor, Orcas Island.

WINDENTIDE,
by boatbuilder Chet North and Averil North, 
Deer Harbor, WA. 1953
Photo courtesy of  L. W. North. 

The little boat bucked and plunged, spray flying half it's length, almost to the exposed engine that poured it's heart out -- all four-H.P. At the end of one hundred-feet of line, two sizable logs wallowed. Together, they likely would make one thousand board feet of lumber -- $20 from the sawmill. A good days wages for a working person in that period. The determined skipper crammed into the corner with cold hands on the steering lever to see the lights at home five miles away -- two and a half hours away. Dark was settling in, but the wind was diminishing, tide would be changing soon, so now was the time to practice her role for Thursday night when once more she would be Noble Grand of her lodge and repeat the secret pledges of that organization. As the little engine hammered away in front of her producing some heat and comfort she spoke into the wind as if the audience was before her. When she was finished, she hugged herself to keep warm and thought of the new dress she would sew on Wednesday for the occasion. She never doubted her ability as a seamstress. At sixteen, a perpetual "A" student, she had to quit school to help the family survive the deepening depression. 
       At home her husband Chet, glanced up from his work bench and stared out into the dark. He could hear the laboring of the little engine. He knew she was out there reasonably safe, and he had a good tow. The long desire for both of them stood on its keel behind him, the 39-ft WINDENTIDE, a trawler of their own design, built for the ocean and living aboard. The pair were dedicated to this vessels creation.
      The night calm in the harbor made sliding alongside the dock easy; Chet took care of securing the tow and the boat, while the tugboat captain backed up to the wood stove in the shop and savored the warmth.
      Averil, considered tall in her own family, barely reached 5' 3" and was discouraged if the scales implied that she was over one hundred and twenty pounds. Graceful, warm, and chatty at a ladies tea, clever at handling her boat, just like the guys. Her two favorite tools were a long handled peeve and a ten-ton jack she used to convince logs on a beach that they should return to the sea.
      "Beachcomber" was not a negative term for the people of the islands. There is a little of that in all of us. The islands are located where tide and winds tended to push escaped logs from B.C. around the sound. The logs left to grind on the rocks, clog navigation, or just waste away on a beach; it seems practical that the week-end salvagers have a purpose that often resulted in earning extra money. Most of the early homes were built with saltwater-treated material. Chet and Averil's house was built in 1924 by an old fisherman using fishtrap planks that were discarded at the end of the season and today that part of the house still stands firmly defying nature.
      When the WINDENTIDE was ready to venture forth to the big water, Averil was aboard with her pots, pans, and pie plates at the ready. The crew consisted of Chet, Averil, a Springer Spaniel, and the son she had written every week of the four years he spent away with the US Navy. No one more anxious for the adventure than the lady with the little tugboat.
      Most all sailors eventually succumb to seasickness at one time or another to recover as healthy as before. This was not to be Averil's good fortune. The first wave on the river bar and she was on the bunk in colors that did not match her lipstick. For the twelve to fifteen hours at sea, none of the "proven" remedies were any relief until the boat was back inside the river again. Then she was up fixing a meal and baking a pie for the next day.
      For two days the boat was held up in the river at La Push while a storm built mountains out of waves, but on the third day the water looked better and the fishermen emptied the docks. Just past the outside buoy the WINDENTIDE rose up on a wave, stood still as the wave disappeared under half the hull and dropped more than twelve feet on her port cheek, with an explosion of solid water back to the cabin. The stove oven contained a cherry pie fresh baked. The door came open and the pie took leave of it's confinement and landed on the floor upside-down after circling the cabin for a time. The stalwart mate, too sick to really care, scooped up the mess with the dust pan, turned it over and reentered it in the oven. Fishermen after more than twelve hours at sea will eat anything.
Written by L. Wayne North, son of Chet and Averil North.

Troller WINDENTIDE with Chet & Averil, lived at the little port of Deer Harbor, Orcas Island, WA. Their vessel is depicted on the 2010 Orcas Historical Museum Maritime Quilt featured here .
Their son L. Wayne North and his wife were the second generation in the same house with those fishtrap planks. In 2013 they sold and moved to Skagit County.