It all started with my friend Mike, we were at a  a Dairy Queen in Oregon City.  We over heard a lady talking about her grandson who was in Alaska fishing.  I don’t remember what kind of fishing he was doing bit it sounded fun, so mike an I decided we were going to go to Alaska and go fishing.

I went home and told my dad I was going to be a fisherman. As luck would have it I had a cousin in dutch harbor that might have been able to get me a job, thank god it didn’t work out or I would have been working on a fish processing ship.  David was going to make a few calls and get me a job on a factory trawler, at the same time those call were being made my dad met a guy who had a boat in Ballard named the Cirus.  I got on that boat in February, and we did painting and other small projects.

My first night aboard was following our first spring sea trials.  I didn’t actually meet the owner.  Wes who was one of the crew members and his girlfriend Laura gave me brief instructions on how to check the bilge for high water.  They then promptly disappeared for the night.  Cirus was a 1943 wooden planked power scow built by the military to haul freight to the Aleutian Islands during the war.  While she was still floating it could and may have been said that she was not only past her prime but long past her retirement date.  They had shown me exactly what to do in-case of the bilge alarms going off.  The exact instructions I was given were if the bilge alarm goes off to flip the switch on and if the deck boards are floating A VERY BIG DEAL to call Jim immediately.  Wes also added as he was heading down the dock that it was not likely to happen.

I found myself all alone my first night on the boat watching the 11 in” TV when the bilge alarm went off. I climbed into the engine room and switched on the bilge pump assuming that would take care of what ever was happening.  Back to my TV and my half eaten bag of Cheesy Poofs and for the moment life was good.  Not long after, I walked back to the head peeking into the engine room as I passed it,  the boards were floating.  I ran up to the pay phone to call Jim then back to the engine room to wait.

I could hear water rushing into the boat and figured if I could hear the water I could stop it. I followed the sound to the source.  I made my way through knee deep water, the engine room reminded me of a junk yard. I have never seen a more disgusting array of cluttered shit in my life.  It was close to midnight by now and silent in the harbor.  I got back to the funnel of water and could see a two inch hole right in the bottom of the boat..  The hole was the remnants of an old thru hull fitting that had been removed and a cork inserted into said hole to keep her sealed.  The vibrations of the engine must has set her swimming and now  alone my fist night on the boat I was going down with the ship.

I stepped on the hole stopping the flow and assessed the situation, the water level didn’t seem to go down, it actually seemed as if it was still getting worse .  Jim came running down the stairs yelling my name, I called from the very aft of the boat. Jim climbed back and found me a soggy mess.  It turns out it wasn’t that big of a deal and Jim actually seemed pissed.  Where is this big hole you are telling me about.  I moved my foot and released the geyser again, oh was his only reply.  We took a cone shape plug and pounded it back in and called it fixed. Several minutes later Jim disappeared  after showing me the nine other bilge pump switches that Wes had neglected to show me the first time.  Again Jim commented that the amount of water was not a big deal.  As far as I’m concerned any water in the bilge is a big deal but knee deep was a huge deal.  Mike never did become a fisherman. This was the end of my first day on the boat and I knew there was no place I’d rather be.  My remaining time on the Cirus would be filled with similar experiences all due to lack of maintenance and neglect.  The old girl refused to be put to rest. The very next day Wes and Laura showed back up giving me the official tour of the boat.  we had a good laugh about the previous night.

Cirus was berthed at Time Oil next to the Ballard locks less than a two minute boat ride from the ship yard, the weather was a mix of rain and snow.  It was Wes and Laura myself and Jim and not the best weather to be moving the boat.  Wes had showed me how to catch the eye and cleat it being my fist time docking a boat.  Marko Shipyard was the dry-dock we were using, I felt relatively comfortable as I had watched several other boats coming and going from the yard.  Jim came down giving me a lecture about on board safety and how cold the water was.  If you miss it the first time let them haul it in and re-throw it. I was standing on the starboard stern quarter of the boat.  The man throwing the line was at least 30 feet over my head, he threw the line and it landed on the middle of the stern fuel tank just out of my reach.  I stood up on the knee high railing wrapping my arm around the steel fuel tank vent.  Reaching around the tank as I leaned in to grab for the eye the vent line broke sending me belly flopping into the freeing water.

Everybody started screaming man overboard, I had fallen into the most dangerous place on the boat not that there was good place to fall. The boat had a severe overhang an almost scoop shape and was backing down on me.  I swam for the nearest ladder and climbed out into the freezing cold.  When I got to the top of the haul-out I stripped off all my heavy clothes and started to shiver. I was not familiar with the yard and didn’t know where to go and warm up.  This guy comes walking down the big Steele walkway and hands me a pair of dry Carhartts and says, “new to the industry kid!”