❖ FISHERMAN ISLAND ❖

Fisherman Island, early 1920s
Photograph by James A. McCormick
Photo from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©

"Finally, seven years, well, really seven and a half years, had gone by––my parents and grandparents had come a long way since my youth––I felt sure that they could be left alone for a day while I did some serious exploring.
      I had a ship, a mature skiff that could be rowed some distance before requiring serious bailing; my "crew" was a twenty pound mutt that lacked smarts but made up for that with enthusiasm for any adventure. The sail was truly a bed sheet and very adverse to the thought of speed.      
      Before setting sail, mother had suggested that I wait until the fresh bread came out of the oven. I could include a jug of raspberry Kool-Aid, which was well known for it's medicinal qualities on long voyages. Then––to sea!
      The island sat a half-mile off shore, jeweled by the green-gray of the harbor, ready to show the new explorers its unique beauty long hidden by the great distance.
      The crew scampered ashore, anxious to confer with the local residents, which by then were high up in Madrona trees. All around us heavy moss covered the rocks, Easter Lilies filled the hollows and bright red Indian Paint Brush mixed with uncountable varieties of other spring growth. Wild vetch filled in all the gaps, reaching higher than our heads, so progress was slow. Scrub Juniper scented the air, giving off an aroma of my Grandmother's yarn chest. We struggled on over downed trees and under brush until reaching the outer side of the island, to a gravel beach just right for explorers our size.     
      There we found a sun bleached sun log of the proper size. Here the badly crushed ship-stores could be put to their intended use in peace and comfort. Of course, peanut butter is good anywhere on Mom's fresh bread, but here shared with my crew, it was especially satisfying. 
      My crew would vary with time, but the scene would remain much the same for many years to come. With a couple of friends, we caught four rabbits from another island and released them on "our" island. They became many fat and happy vetch mowers until the crew from a summer boat shot them all and left the piles of carcasses among the Juniper scrub. After that event I didn't return to the little beach until I was 22, following most of three years in Korea in the early 1950s. It was the finest place on earth that day for serious reflections of my war service and on that day, to enjoy once again, Mom's fresh bread.
      Old timers called it Fisherman's Island because it served as a retreat for two old fishermen brothers. One was Chris; this was where he could escape from the tourist noise and summer dances, but in the winter old Chris returned to putter on his quarter acre tucked between Pearmain's homestead and the cannery [Deer Harbor]. He built, among other things, a snug three-room cabin to rent to those same tourists. The bedroom was mostly windows that looked out on "his" island. He called the cabin Bonnie View with a large sign on the front insisting others should do so, too.  That was 1938. After many remodels, my bedroom, still with many windows, looks out on the harbor with the island in full view, only now it is called Fawn Island and is mistress to someone in Hollywood."
Above text by early-timer islander L. W. "Corkey" North 2010.
  

❖ NORTH'S NORTH STAR ❖

NORTH STAR, Deer Harbor, Orcas Island.
Built 1930, by boatbuilder Chet North,
who sailed her into this port and never left.
Only known photo, saved by his Deer Harbor neighbors. 

"In 1911 Thomas Fleming Day, editor of Rudder magazine, sailed the 25-ft yawl SEA BIRD from the US to Italy,  single-handed. 

L-R: Frederick B. Thurber, T. R. Goodwin, Thomas F. Day
in 1911
Aboard SEA BIRD before their trip to Italy.
Library of Congress Photo (LC-B2-2207-9)

      A near copy of the boat plans appearing in the magazine, caught the eye of a multitude of people, one of them being Chet North, then living in Portland, OR. 
     In 1930 he completed a 22-ft copy of the vessel, with the addition of a 1928 Chevrolet engine, for more dependable arrivals.
     The boat was trucked to Olympia, WA for an October launching, along with one large police dog, the two senior Norths, and a new wife. Chet had just married Averil; on Halloween night they all set off for Canada, heading into a freshening northeaster. The first night was spent on McNeil Island.
      In December while returning from BC, they stopped for an overnight in Deer Harbor and never left.
      Only one picture was ever taken of the boat and that was also the only time that all sails were up; the engine having proved too handy. This photograph was found among the Pearmain family's collection of 'unknowns'.
The remains of the boat were, and perhaps are still, in the blackberry bushes on the Coffelt property on Lopez Island." 
Text by mariner/historian L. W. 'Corkey' North, son of boatbuilder Chet North, 2006.

This image from The Rudder, October 1901.
The magazine founder, editor, and boat designer was
Thomas Fleming Day, as mentioned by the author of this log post.
There is a detailed article about TFD and his work in
Wood Boat magazine No.43, Nov./Dec. 1981.

WESTERN PIONEER ✪ ✪ ✪ North with North ✪ ✪ ✪

WESTERN PIONEER
Loading up at Salmon Bay, Seattle, to head North.
photo copy from L.W. North for this essay.

"In 1943, I was hanging out of the apartment window in Anacortes, WA,  listening to old KVOS radio in Bellingham describe the launching of a new fleet tug for the USN, not giving a thought that in 37-years I would serve as chief engineer in Alaska, on board for over four years. Bellingham was quite proud of the ship they had built, and rightly so.
      She stretched out to 184' and drew 18' of water. Built with wood hull and steel super structure and powered with four 720-HP Copper Bessemer diesel generators that provided the power to two propulsion motors, giving her a 12-knot speed in the beginning.
      By the time she had finished her military obligation, she had slowed a bit. As a civilian she started a career freighting from Seattle to Dutch Harbor for Western Pioneer, Inc, on a round robin routine, in spite of weather, for 13-years, until an engine room fire tied her up in Lake Union. The Coast Guard ruled her unfit.
      The Magnuson Act provided new rules so she had another chance to serve as a private freighter with a licensed skipper, first mate, and chief engineer. Her most important asset was the converted refrigerated hold for hauling crab and fish.
      When I first went aboard, the engine room was so black from smoke and soot, that a 100-w light bulb looked like a candle on a dark night. But the fire damage was minimal and cleaning was the main concern on our way north. We ran on two generators and worked on the other two, since there had been a serious lack of maintenance.
      The first newspaper we got in Ketchikan, AK informed us of Mt. St. Helens' gas problem on 18 May.
      The skipper delayed at Cape Spencer for a long while, waiting for better weather on the gulf; then we ventured out after dark. In an hour we were rolling 40 degrees to starboard and 25 degrees to port, and the wind was doing 90-mph, with snow. 
      The deck load of iron pipe and steel reinforcing rod shifted, catching the 20' shore boat in cables, cutting it from deck to keel as it hung over the cabin side. In the engine room, parts that hadn't been seen for years came bursting out of their hiding places, to skid across the deck plate, bent on doing damage. Two men acted as cowboys and jumped on flying parts with rope and wire, to secure them before the next surprise threatened. Our tool count increased--as the lost were suddenly found--rolling about the deck.
      We made Yakutat much later and anchored in perfect calm and licked our wounds. When I heard the stories from the pilot house, I was glad to be an engineer.
      In the four years that I served we had been in the Yukon delta, Adak, Bristol Bay, Dutch Harbor, a tour of SE, and a lot of those other places that make Alaska different than any other and often more exciting." 
Above text written by Orcas Island mariner/historian L. W. "Corkey" North who has supported this historical endeavor from the outset, while being very patient with the webmaster. 
Essays by Corkey are included in the labels at the very bottom of this Log. He has shared memories or helpful notes on the boats IMPERIAL, KATY, NORTH STAR, NO WAKE, VASHON, WESTERN PIONEER, WINDENTIDE, and even one large, returning, visitor whale--SATCHELMOUTH. In other words, we'd be sunk without him. Thanks Corkey, keep writing Chief. 

WESTERN PIONEER, Alaska
Scan from copy from L. W. North

WESTERN PIONEER
Back from Adak, AK
Scan from copy from L. W. North.

WESTERN PIONEER
Dutch Harbor, AK.
Scan from a photo copy from L. W. North

✪ ✪ ✪ Whale "Satchelmouth" ✪ ✪ ✪

September 1945

Resort brochure  
Saltwater People Log

"West Beach is back to normal; President Channel is itself again; 'Old Satchelmouth' returned to his summer haunts last week. As everybody knows 'Old Satchelmouth' is the friendly whale that comes to President Channel each summer when the salmon are running. This year when the salmon were late in arriving and few when they did come, his old friends thought the whale had either become disgusted with Orcas waters or had got too intimate with a Japanese depth bomb.
      When Stacy Meyers of Tacoma reported sighting him between Cramer & Kertis' West Beach resort and Waldron Island everybody was happy. The old fellow didn't come close inshore, as he sometimes does, and he kept his distance from fishing boats, but plenty of people got a glimpse of him. Even Butch, the Cramer dog that gets as much fun out of playing around with vacationists as he does in scaring up pheasants or fighting raccoons, got a watchful eye on him and whined his joy and relief.
      Maybe all this means that September is going to be a good month for salmon fishing in President Channel. Maybe 'Old Satchelmouth' shows up when he knows that there are going to be a lot of silvers around. And maybe he is just slack in his habits and hasn't any regular schedule. But, anyway, this is the fifth successive year that he has shown himself off West Beach."
Friday Harbor Journal
6 September 1945

We don't have a photograph of 'Satchelmouth' but thanks to a longtime island friend we have his memories of his salty friend. Corkey thinks "Old Satchelmouth" was a Fin Whale (Balaenoptera physalus) which has a lifespan of 80-90 years. The relatively solitary creature, seldom found in groups, is the 2nd largest mammal on earth; see NOAA/ Finwhales here
"The old whale 'Satchelmouth' was an old buddy of mine. When I got up at five or six in the morning to run the NORDLAND down to Friday Harbor, he would show up and travel with me for a while. He'd get pretty close at times.
      On one occasion, I had taken Dr. Cook's outboard boat from West Beach to Deer Harbor to do some work on it at Dad's shop. On the return trip in light rain at about the lime kiln, doing maybe fifteen miles an hour, there suddenly was a big black object right under my bow. It went down and I went another way but I got a close-up view of 'Old Satchelmouth's' back without any scraping of Doc's boat. I think we were both surprised and undamaged."
L. W. 'Corkey' North
Deer Harbor, Orcas Island, WA.
Letter to web admin. SPHS, Dec. 2012.

The Good Ship ✪ ✪ ✪ IMPERIAL ✪ ✪ ✪ by L. W. North

IMPERIAL

Rosario Resort transport.

"Rosario had a hundred guests coming up to Anacortes to be transported to their Orcas Island resort on the M.V. IMPERIAL. The fog had come in during the night and by morning visibility was down to only a few feet. The little ship had very limited navigational equipment, being primarily a sightseer type boat in her mature years. It seemed not a good idea to leave until the fog had raised a bit, but Gill Geiser, the owner of the resort, encouraged me to at least try; by his comments, there was going to be some pretty upset people in Anacortes if I didn't show up, with a veiled suggestion the same might be true on his end.
      Idling along at 3-knots, bouncing whistle blasts off the bluff a hundred yards away, and counting the time it took for the echoes to return, in total isolation from any other part of the world, the first conclusion only seemed more valid. That was not what an excursion boat was supposed to be doing.

1972 Route of the IMPERIAL, 

Capt. "Corkey" North and son Chet.

Photo from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

     At Obstruction Pass we got a break and the north side appeared briefly a couple hundred feet away, confirming that the world did exist and we were about where we should be. The east-end light fretted out of the blanket and then hid again. Tide was ebbing fairly strong and Strawberry Island in the pocket of the south end of Cypress Island should be the next landfall. Long minutes with no echo and wondering if the guess at the current speed was even close. My fifteen-year-old son stood on the bow, fog dampening his cherubic face, and dripping off his curly hair, intent on hearing the first echo. A stripe of sun hit the boat and then opened to haze around us; all too soon the thick blanket settled on us again.
      Chet yelled and pointed ahead. He had heard an echo, eventually, the south end of Strawberry Island toyed with us, so we turned south to parallel Cypress with hopes of finding the bell buoy. Suddenly we were in beautiful morning sun and Anacortes was where it should be; it seemed we raced along at our normal 9-knots again and would be in time to pick up the passengers while they still had smiles on their faces.
      Son Chet pointed behind us where maybe ten boats streamed out in our wake as the fog lifted and sun brightened the morning. Someone called on the marine radio "good job, skipper". Much later I was informed that voice had been one of the investors, following behind us in the fleet, since we had left Rosario.
       In Anacortes, passengers rushed to get aboard, some of them looking in every box and compartment, even in my own day-bag and passed theories on everything. Not all theories of a correct nature as we cruised back to the resort among wisps of fog in the warm, fall sun.

Rosario Resort, Orcas Island, WA.
Undated photograph by F. Wear.
From the archives of the Saltwater People Historical Society.

      After the tie-up, I went up to the resort's front desk and helped check-in part of the one hundred new guests where I heard comments on how long it took to get to Rosario.
      One can only smile and say "maybe we will do better next time you visit".

Written by L.W. North, historian/mariner, and longtime Orcas Island resident.
For the Saltwater People Historical Society
January 2012.

      

❖ COMMENTS ON TUG KATY's LOG of 5 JULY 2011 ❖

Steam tug KATY on left, 

Undated original photo from the archives of S.P.H.S.©

"Reading your log about the KATY was special. She was in Deer Harbor about 1949, raising the old BELLINGHAM that sank alongside the cannery. The cannery crew brought the boat in alongside the dock to work on, bow to the north. The tide took a deep breath and the bow stuck in the mud, so the stern went down a bit lower to where the dried-out seams let water visit inside. The owner said that anyone who removed her could have her----Damn, I wanted that boat, but the Navy wanted me and I really didn't have oars long enough to row a 120-foot boat, or smarts enough to know how to raise it.  The KATY showed up and the diver wrapped the stern in canvas, pumped out some water at low tide, and up she came on the incoming tide. Simple!!  Sadly, she was burned in Elliot Bay for Seafair a couple years later.
      I was impressed at the time when the KATY skipper/diver told me his boat was in her eighties. So, you shook my memory tree again. " 

The first log entry of the KATY and her owner/skipper
Above comment by L. W."Corkey" North, retired mariner/local historian, Deer Harbor, Orcas Island.

   

❖ 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. 

❖ Bristol Bay Boat NO WAKE ❖

In 1957, the Alaska Packers Association of Blaine, WA., donated six Bristol Bay fishing boats to Camp Orkila [Orcas Island.] Three were power conversions and three were the original sailors with all the original sails. Walt Jones (waterfront manager) and Corkey North were able to get two engines running well after a couple of days and began the eight-hour tow back to camp. This involved a lot of pumping and hoping; they arrived after dark with the sailors half sunk.

The power boats were the first ones approved by the US Coast Guard for use by the YMCA camp. After considerable work on the Bristol Bay boats, they were able to replace the tin lifeboats previously used at camp.

The sailors were never very popular with the campers because of the slow speed and cumbersome rig; they had little appeal to the young campers.

In time, my dad Chet North retired from his boat building because of a heart condition. He traded a faster 16-ft outboard for hull # WN84P and had the power company move it to the part of the lot where he could work on remodeling the hull on his two-hour-per-day work schedule. He removed the centerboard and installed a used Gray 4-52 engine in the proper location. Just before he passed away in 1986 at age 80, he passed the boat on to his son, Corkey.

The engine was replaced by a rebuilt Gray-Alaska Lugger, which was an upgrade of the 4-52.
The hull was built in Astoria, OR, by Dyer Boats in 1929.

L. W. "Corkey" North
Deer Harbor, WA.

NO WAKE with skipper Corkey North
leaving San Juan Archipelago, with friends escorting.
Harney Channel heading for her new home
in Skagit County, summer 2013.