* Featured in the book "In Search of the Kushtaka" by Dennis Waller
Almost forty years ago I moved to
Alaska
soon after my enlistment in the navy expired.
Like so many other young men returning from the war in
Vietnam,
I had myself a rousing good case of
PTSD,
and a head full of dreams I couldn't wait to get started on.
I originally come from a clan of people who
are at home in the forest, and spent much of my youth exploring the lakes and
woodlands of
Northern Wisconsin.
I cannot say just when or where it began, but
I had always wanted to go to
Alaska
for most of my life, you could say it was the alpha male in the pack of those
restless dreams of mine.
It just made
perfect sense that the next chapter of my life should begin in the place that
had been calling to me for so long, a no-brainer as they say nowadays. Being born both a type-A personality and
under the sign of Aries, city life was just never interesting enough to
hold my attention. I always wanted
something more, and I found it when I moved to Alaska. It isn't just a whole other place, it is a
universe unto itself; and the day I arrived to make my home there my soul felt
truly free for the first time in my life.
I went to
Alaska
with the central goal of eventually having my own version of
Walden
Pond, deep in the wilderness.
A navy shipmate had spent several summers salmon fishing out of the
southeastern town of
Ketchikan, and
had several times regaled us with stories from his time there.
Being that it had the double distinction of
being both the only town I knew anything about
and the first town the
state ferry stops at;
Ketchikan was
my destination.
I arrived with
sufficient funds to see me through for a good while, or if I got lucky right
off the bat, to buy the place to build my dream.
In those days
Ketchikan
was a warm and engaging community of about five thousand or so souls, year
round population.
There was opportunity,
wilderness and bald eagles, simply everywhere I looked...I don't think I quit
grinning for a solid month as I began assimilating myself into this picturesque
maritime town clinging to life on a long, narrow strip of real estate between
the ocean, and the mountains.
The fishing fleet arrived shortly after I did that summer,
so I headed down to the city dock area in hopes of talking myself into a job on
a purse seiner.
It seemed at least fifty
other guys had the same idea, all chasing the legendary big bucks associated
with commercial salmon fishing.
This
wasn't going to be easy.
I persisted
even though a lot of the competition had actual experience fishing where I
could only tempt prospective skippers with my navy record.
As it turned out that was enough, and my
first job commercial fishing was aboard the vessel
Mark Christopher
captained by Dave Demmert Sr.
We put up
good numbers that year, and crew share was something like six grand
apiece.
It was aboard this boat that I
first heard many enthralling stories
&
legends of southeast Alaska, but none more intriguing and interesting than the
Tlingit legend of the
Kooshdaakaa (
anglicized
as Kushtaka) or "
Land Otter Man" which is similar to
but different from Bigfoot or Sasquatch.
Being full blood Tlingit, captain Dave knew the stories by heart.
We could always tell when he was pulling our
leg because he'd get a slight gleam in his eye, and the corner of his mouth
would almost, but not quite smirk.
Those
'tells' were totally absent whenever he spoke of the Kooshdaakaa.
He didn't like talking about them, he told us
doing so was bad luck.
He was emphatic
however whenever one of us suggested it was just another Sasquatch or Bigfoot, He said
"
They are not the same creature, although both do exist in Alaska."
The Kooshdaakaa, according to legend is a shape shifting
supernatural being; part human, part land otter, who lures people into the
woods then kills them.
Captain Dave's
stories just left me hungry for more, yet actually finding it isn't always
easy; as not everybody believes and those who do usually decline to talk about
the creatures.
Just my cup of tea!
One of the first friends I made in
Ketchikan
was a native Alaskan fellow named Delaney whose family lived up on second
avenue overlooking part of town and the
Bar Harbor
marina.
Whenever I visited the house;
there would be his grandmother,
Nana sitting in her rocker by the bay
window, always knitting something or another for someone.
Out of respect I always said hello and
goodbye to Nana, but she wasn't so sure about me just yet, so usually I was
lucky to receive a nod or some guttural sound in return.
Delaney of course became a wealth of
information on local history, legends and such, but every time I inquired about
the Kooshdaakaa the information slowed to a trickle.
I knew he wasn't telling me everything he had
on the subject, but I also knew that the hesitation to speak of the creature
came from a very deeply seated tribal custom; so I was patient.
Several months later I was rounding the corner on a downtown
sidewalk when I spotted a true hulk of a man coming out of the bank, and I
instantly recognized Frank Zinn, an unforgettable civilian tug boat skipper I'd
met years before in
Vung Tau, south
Vietnam.
Looking up, Frank saw me and was equally surprised.
We stood there talking and catching up the
way people do...when Frank asks what I'm doing for work?
I explained I was figuring on fishing again
this summer.
It turns out Frank was
living in Ketchikan and working as the captain of a Crowley maritime harbor tug
assigned to the Louisiana-Pacific pulp mill...and was in need of a
deckhand!
Next thing I know, I'm making
better money that ever before at a job I love.
Before I knew it, four years went by in a flash.
I have a nice place to live, a truck and two
boats; and am seemingly farther from my wilderness dream than I ever was.
It occurs to me that with all this abundance,
I might as well be still in the big city, it is nice, and intoxicating - but not
what I came here to do.
So; in an act
I'm sure many thought was insane, I quit the job, sold everything I didn't need
and purchased a float house, which is just what it sounds like, a house on a
log float.
I figured that if I already
had a movable cabin, I was halfway to having my wilderness dream.
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As if to acknowledge my commitment, the universe soon
delivered the other half of the dream.
The
Cape Fox Corp (
one of Alaska's 13 regional native corporations) was looking
for someone to live way up in
George Inlet as a wilderness watchman to
protect against poaching and illegal logging on native lands.
As it turned out, my friend Delaney is
related to the president of the corporation, puts in a good word for me, and I
get the job. My ex-boss lined up a tugboat to drag my float house the 15
miles up George inlet; to a pristine little place called
Gem Cove.
Suddenly my
wilderness dream came alive, and I was in it.
As I went about my chores and activities over the ensuing months it was
always in the back of my mind that now, I was out where the Kooshdaakaa
live.
One day when I was in town getting
supplies I ran into Delaney who invited me up to the house; saying he had
something to give me.
Once there he
rummages around for a bit before finding what he was looking for, a small
innocuous little booklet 30 pages long entitled;
The Strangest Story
Ever Told by Harry Colp.
Delaney hands me the
book with as serious a look as I'd ever seen on his face, and said; "Here,
you'd better read this." As I
went to leave following our visit, Nana looks me in the eye & said, "You be careful out
there." The book is an account
of the experiences of four prospectors up in the Thomas
Bay around the year 1900. It is a thoroughly engrossing story of
repeated encounters the men had with an entire group of aggressive hairy
man-ape type creatures. The prospectors
knew that just eight miles up river from the bay existed a source of free gold
quartz, which is quartz crystal included with tendrils of gold flake frozen
within the crystal. Now, I have always
liked quartz crystals and mysterious monsters, so I was hooked and ready
to go visit Thomas Bay
myself. The trouble was, I couldn't find
anyone to go with me. Either they didn't
believe, and thought the trip foolish, or they believed and thought the trip
dangerous; either way none of the people I knew were willing to go there. Of course when Delaney declined, I asked him
why he had given me the book. He
replied, "Because I hoped it would scare some sense into you."
Now I was more determined than ever to make the trip, to see for
myself, and maybe even find some valuable free gold quartz in the process.
Life in Gem Cove was peacefully idyllic; it was everything I
ever expected it to be, and more.
Bald
eagles ruled the skies,
& their nest
was within sight of my cabin.
It wasn't
unusual to see black bears strolling by on their way to the creek, to fish for
salmon.
One afternoon at high tide with
20 feet of water under the raft I was astonished to see a seal come flying out
of the water and land on the deck ten feet away...and even more astonished to
see a killer whale glide silently under the raft searching for him.
Clearly, I was the lesser of two evils at the
time.
There were times when I was out
deer hunting when I'd see tracks I couldn't easily identify, and once or twice
when I heard sounds
& noises nearby
that also were strange and unknown.
The
Alaskan wilderness is like that, it lets you know right away just where you are
on the food chain.
It teaches respect.
Three more years passed and as happy as I was to be living
my dream,
Thomas Bay was still calling me from somewhere deep in my
subconscious, and I still wanted to go.
The next time I saw Delaney I brought up the subject of
Thomas
Bay again, and this time I persisted
until he finally gave up, and agreed to go with me.
We began making our trip plan, gathering the
gear we'd need and so forth, and I felt exhilarated with the thought of finally
going.
We both thought having a third
person along would be a good idea, and Delaney said he'd recently met a guy he
thought might be game for the adventure; so he took me to meet Jim, who turned
out to be an automotive mechanic and former member of a prestigious southern
California motorcycle fraternity.
Jim
was a real bruiser of a fellow, standing six foot two at about 285 pounds or
so; with a big square face framed in shaggy blond hair which made him slightly
resemble the actor
Gary Busey.
We
came with the copy of the book I had in case we needed to entice Jim with
something beyond our enthusiasm.
I
watched his face for clues as he read thru the booklet, occasionally raising an
eyebrow here
& there.
When he finished reading Jim returned the
book and asked me why I wanted to go there.
I told him I wanted to film or photograph the elusive Kooshdaakaa if we
got the chance, and if we drew a blank on the monster there was always the
gold.
Without hesitation Jim says; "
I'm in~ as long as
you're OK with capturing the thing alive and becoming millionaires!"
I think I was prepared to hear anything
except
that!
His comment took me so off guard I
thought at first he must be joking; so I asked just to be sure.
When Jim asked me if he
looked like he
was joking, one glance at his face gave me my answer.
Honestly I wasn't so hot on the whole idea of
going all Rambo on an established Alaskan legend but I kept that to myself,
thinking that Delaney and I could talk him out of that notion once we got
there.
My next surprise came when Jim
volunteered to take us up there in his 30 foot cabin cruiser.
The closest town to
Thomas
Bay is
Petersburg
some 150 miles north of
Ketchikan;
which is about a ten to twelve hour boat ride.
Jim had just finished overhauling the engine, and entire steering system
on his cruiser.
I volunteered to pay the
fuel cost both ways if Jim
& Delaney
would spring for food and such.
After
trying for years to get to
Thomas Bay,
it all came together in a matter of a few hours.
The day was set, we would leave in a weeks
time.
The next day I was taking a bunch
of gear to the boat
& stopped to get
Delaney.
When I got inside I could see
there was some somber
& serious
energy in the house.
It almost felt like
there had been a tragedy or death in the family.
I asked Delaney if everyone was alright...he
affirmed the whole family was just fine...but that he would not be going to
Thomas
Bay with me, not now, not ever.
Nana was in her rocker, but not knitting now, she was just
rocking back
& forth, and staring out
the bay window at something only she could see.
I felt like an interloper suddenly, as if I had just made off with all
the fine silver.
A gracious and swift
exit seemed to be called for here so I told Delaney it was OK, and I'd call him
later on.
In that house you couldn't get
to the front door without passing Nana's rocking chair, and as I attempted to
glide smoothly past the old lady she reached out and gently took my wrist in
her aged, weathered hand and said, "
You come sit."
Although her voice was soft and kind I could tell it was a command, not a
request...so I kneeled down in front of her chair like a commoner granted an
audience with the queen.
Still holding
my hand, the old woman made eye contact...and whispered "
Listen to me
child...Thomas Bay is not Gem Cove...I told my grandson that if he went there
and came back alive he would be changed forever, never again the same person;
and I say the same to you now."
In the old days, Nana would be a tribal elder, whose word is
never questioned by the very young
&
unwise; and so, her words ushered me into a period of introspection that night,
as I wrestled for hours with my desires and Nana's wisdom.
I knew that much of her deep respect for
Thomas Bay stemmed from the massive 1750 landslide there which wiped out an
entire village of 500 people; earning the name "
Bay of Death".
A hundred fifty years later, following the
exploits described in the booklet:
Thomas
Bay received another
nickname..."
Devils Country."
These were the thoughts flowing around and around in my brain like
clothes in a washer that night, and over the following days.
I respected both Nana
& Delaney too much to push the issue ever again, and so it
was just Jim and myself who set off for the
Bay
of Death the following week.
We shoved off just after sunup on a Friday morning.
Most small boat operators in Alaska avoid
running after dark on account of
widowmakers; which are rogue logs so waterlogged
that they float almost invisible a few inches below the surface.
They're hard enough to spot during the day,
&
impossible at night...
& will
rain all over your parade.
Aside from
that there are other navigation hazards like fishing nets
& whales to be avoided; so the run to
Petersburg
was anything but a leisurely cruise as our eyes were glued on the water ahead
of us for the whole trip.
After a mostly
uneventful transit up the inside passage we pulled into the transient dock at
Petersburg about six
PM, and of course
headed straightaway to the nearest bar to celebrate the successful completion
of the first leg of our Alaskan monster hunt.
Upon our return to
the boat there was of course just the one subject for discussion. I was pretty certain that by this time Jim
was maybe somewhat less obsessed with the hair brained idea of capturing
one of these "devils country" creatures. I couldn't have been more wrong as the man
began explaining how "we" would lure the creature in with fresh fish,
some bacon and whatever else we had that smelled good, like the Hormel ham he'd
bought for just that purpose...and then he would zap the thing with his
military grade stun gun so we could wrap him up in the cargo net stowed up in
the bow. This wasn't going to be
easy. Here I was trying to conjure the
right words to convince this hulking ex-biker that his idea was exploitive
lunacy that could get both of us killed.
As I listened to Jim explain how once we had the creature all we had to
do was keep stunning him until we got back to Petersburg to make the proper
phone calls...I began to envision an entirely different outcome than what I
might have imagined.
Jim had consumed several beers at the pub in the time it
took me to nurse two myself, and he continued to down a few more beers back on
the boat while laying out his master plan.
When it was my turn, I asked Jim if he recalled from the booklet that
these creatures were encountered in numbers and were said to be both strong
& agile?
Before he could answer I added the comment that if the damn thing woke
up halfway to Petersburg it would probably not take long to bash his way thru
the hull of the fiberglass boat, to which he just replied; "
That's what
the leg irons & chains are
for!"
With that Jim pulls out a rifle case, unzips
it to reveal a glimmering stainless steel mini-14 assault rifle complete with
scope.
He holds the gun up to show it to
me saying; "
and this is how I'll handle any of his buddies who
give us trouble!"
I'd wanted
to get to
Thomas Bay
so bad that I neglected to ascertain how compatible my goals were to Jim's and
had just gotten the rude awakening that there was no compatibility to be had.
Yes, I had also brought along a firearm, but
for self defense, not naked aggression against another living creature.
Inwardly my gut feeling was that my adventure
had been hijacked by this knuckle dragger with delusions of fame
& fortune.
The way I saw things, there were but two choices available to me,
equally unacceptable.
I could get off
the boat at first light then wait to ride the state ferry back to
Ketchikan;
or I could proceed, hoping that I could convince Jim to reassess his personal
goals.
The night was longer than any in
recent memory as sleep was not to be had; towards dawn I finally nodded off.
A couple hours had passed when the noise of Jim making
breakfast woke me up.
He was crisp as a
fresh C-note and whistling away as if he hadn't a care in the world.
When he saw me stirring Jim looked over at me
and asked if I was still ready to go to
Thomas
Bay.
Rubbing my weary eyes; I was in no mood for
guile or games so I said rather flatly; "
I suppose that depends on
whether you still intend to capture one alive, or kill one-because that ain't
why I came all this way. I want to see
one of these creatures to prove to myself they are real & if I get lucky, to get photographic
evidence to prove it to the world - but not if it means harming
or killing one. So, if that much fame & fortune ain't enough for you, I'll just
wish ya luck and take the blue canoe back home."
For
what seemed like forever the only sound in that boat was the bacon sizzling on
the stove; Jim's mouth was
open, but no
sound was coming out of it and the look on his face was approaching
comical.
While my partner's brain was in buffering mode searching for something
to say I decided to exploit the sudden shift in energy by politely reminding
him whose idea the trip was to begin with, and who had paid for the fuel...and
that I'd be expecting a reimbursement for his return fuel if I ended up taking
the ferry home.
Now to be honest I
didn't feel exactly comfortable issuing ultimatums to this robust ex-biker; I
just didn't see any alternative I could accept...so I softened my tone a
little, adding... "Besides, dude I got my fill of violence in
Vietnam,
I'm just not looking for that here."
We discussed the matter over a delicious breakfast of fresh trout, bacon
& coffee, which is when I realized
Jim had no desire to go to devils country alone.
He seemed equally hesitant to return home
without so much as a decent tall tale; so a compromise was agreed upon.
Jim promised not to harm or capture any
kooshdaakaas...unless they came onto the boat, (as they
had done in
the
Strangest Story Ever Told) and I decided I could live with that, or at
least really hoped I would.
An hour later we were making our way across
Frederick
Sound in three foot seas, heading
straight for the bay of death.
The
closer we got the more electric the energy on the boat became...we were now
restless to engage this adventure on it's own terms.
The seas calmed down nicely once across the
channel and the going was smooth as we slowed; approaching the mouth of this
glacier formed bay.
There are shallow
shoals at the entrance which can be tricky at low tide.
The northern prominence of
Thomas
Bay is called Point Vanderput, and
includes a dwarf island with four of five trees growing on it.
The southern prominence of the entrance is
called wood point and is littered with submerged rocks.
The safest way in was right down the middle,
where the water is deep enough with no hazards.
It was just after high noon on this typically overcast day when we left
the channel and entered the legendary bay of death, devils country!
There was still a goodly amount of morning fog lingering
over parts of the bay, giving it a decidedly creepy look as we made our way
further in. We had of course decided to
take a nice slow tour of the entire bay before making any further plans, as we
needed to know the 'lay of the land' and get a good sense of the place. At the rear of the bay there are two
'arms'...one going left to Baird glacier the other going right towards Ruth
island, and the Patterson river where the four prospectors encountered so much
woe at the turn of the century. Jim
steered the boat left taking us up to check out the glacier first. As we slowly plied the waters of Thomas
Bay at trolling speed I was
immediately struck by how silent the entire place was. No birds flying or singing, no eagles riding
thermals searching for meals, no fish breaching the surface feeding on mayflies
& insects. It was quiet as death itself. Jim noticed it too, giving me a weird kind of
look as he asked if it was spooky enough for me yet.
Down on the other end, on the far shore across from Ruth
island there was something that we had not known about...a forest service cabin
built there as shelter for hunters
&
fishermen who use the Bay.
Jim was all
excited at the prospect of spending the night in that cabin, and wanted to
anchor up, so we could take the rubber raft ashore and set up for the
night.
As he prepared to set the anchor
I was taking a look at the cabin thru the binoculars.
It looked sound enough...yet there was
something about it I couldn't put my finger on that bugged me.
With the anchor set Jim was getting the
zodiac ready when I handed him the binoculars and asked him to take a look at
the cabin for me, which he did.
After a
long look he hands me the glasses back and says it looks fine to him.
I have one of those pesky kind of minds that
simply cannot abide a mystery and leave well enough alone.
I wanted to understand
why I got a
chilly feeling when I looked at that cabin so I took another look with the
optics.
It took a couple of minutes but
then I noticed the outside walls were covered with bullet holes.
I didn't understand why that would set me off
because you see a lot of that kind of vandalism in
Alaska.
Most places they just shoot the deer crossing
signs, here, we go for the whole cabin.
Regrettable as it is, those kind of jerks are everywhere you go.
I was thinking those thoughts as I continued glassing
the cabin and surrounding forest for whatever it was that was giving me this
creepy feeling - then I saw it.
I wasn't
alarmed because there were so many bullet holes, I was alarmed because every
one appeared to be an exit wound.
People
shooting a forest service cabin from their boat is one thing.
Emptying your gun from
inside
the cabin...that is entirely something else again!!
The raft was just about ready to use, and Jim
seemed very anxious to get ashore and look around.
"
Humor me and take another look at
that cabin" I said as I handed him back the glasses.
I waited in anxious silence as Jim peered thru
the optics...after maybe 30 seconds he says to me; "
Man you gonna have
to clue me in cause I don't see.....Holy Shit!!...
those bullet holes are
all exit wounds!"
A brief
eternity passed as we just stared at each other and then the shoreline.
Jim went back inside the boat for a couple of minutes then
returned to the aft deck where I was still puzzling things thru in my head. My
giant ex-biker partner looks at me and says; "
Ya know...the day's half
wasted now anyway, why don't we sleep on the boat tonight and go ashore in the
morning."
That sounded quite
reasonable to me, so I added, "
Yeah, right...and tonight we can just
keep alert to see what goes on here after dark."
So we put out a couple of fishing lines
hoping to catch dinner even though there were still no signs of life anywhere;
and passed the time in harmless conversation.
Towards dusk Jim commented to me, "
Say- you live out in
the woods, is it always this quiet?
I
don't think I've seen or heard any critters all day!"
When I answered that this silence was
not
normal even though the forest is sometimes called
the quiet places, Jim
just shrugged his big shoulders and said, "
I guess that's why they call
it the bay of death!"
To take
our minds off of how little it took to spook us we played a few games of
cribbage and then called it a day.
I couldn't help but feel a little like bait as Jim retired
to the forward berth cabin while I slept on the fold down cot in the back,
right by the sliding glass door leading to the back deck.
I was only marginally reassured upon
discovering the door had a locking latch.
For the second night running I was getting very little sleep.
It seemed every few minutes the waves would
slap the hull of the boat, or some loose piece of gear would move or shift
slightly, creating a faint but audible noise.
Each
& every time my eyes
would pop open, looking furtively thru the sliding glass door, hoping not to
see some glowing eyed Kooshdaakaa glowering back at me.
I thought about what Nana had said to me, and
why the native folk here about have such a healthy respect for this place.
The words "
if you come back alive..."
kept floating up from my subconscious mind to further vex my efforts at
rationality.
I tried to convince myself
that those bullet holes didn't mean what logic dictated they meant...I tried...but
when I did finally fall asleep long enough to dream, it was about terrified
campers inside that cabin shooting at creatures attacking them.
It was a very vivid
& unsettling dream to be sure.
That night went by so slowly I was beginning
to wonder if time was being messed with somehow when the first golden rays of
dawn broke over the mountaintops.
I put
on a pot of coffee then stepped out on the back deck to get my first look at
the new day.
Another cloudy, overcast day
with the smell of rain in the air.
When
the coffee was done I took my first cup back outside to just sit and watch the
bay, searching for any sign of life at all.
There was none to be seen or heard. Not even the pestering insects
Alaska
is famous for.
I was on my second cup of coffee and third cigarette of the
morning when Jim stumbled out to join me on the deck, still wrapped in his
blanket like a refugee of some unknown tragedy.
He was strangely silent, and about the polar opposite of the previous
morning.
He didn't look good, as if he'd
gotten about as much sleep as me.
Jim
didn't say a word to me as he nursed his morning joe.
We
hadn't brought any beer with us and there was no alcohol smell on him so I knew
he wasn't suffering from a hangover...he just looked exhausted.
I went inside at this point to take my turn
at making breakfast; leaving Jim to his brooding silence as the day became
brighter.
About the time the hobo
breakfast was ready for human consumption Jim comes ambling back inside the
boat.
"
Smells edible"
says he...to which I haggardly responded, "
Top o' the Morn, Captain;
what be our agenda for the day."
After a lengthy pause he looks right at me and said, "
Well ... I
figure we got what we came for and should head back to Petersburg
today, and go home tomorrow."
I
simply could not believe what I was hearing, he left me truly dumfounded.
I must have stammered for ten seconds before
blurting out "
What?"...... "
Go home?? -Please explain
to me how we got what we came for...I just don't understand that at all."
Jim looked me right in the eye for a long
second or two before saying; "
Let me put it another less ambiguous
way...the boat is leaving today, you are welcome to stay here if you like."
Now I was beyond dumbfounded, I was totally mystified at
Jim's behavior, yet the tone of his voice and the cold look in his eyes
banished any thought of this being some kind of joke.
The man was serious!
I tried to get him to explain how and why
he'd arrived at this unilateral decision but to no avail.
He said the subject was closed, and that we
were pulling anchor at
noon to leave
this spooky place.
By this time I knew
better than to push the issue
any further, to do so would simply not be
wise, so I just said, "
You're the Captain, leaving at noon it is."
Jim's demeanor that morning only improved
slightly upon hearing my agreement to his departure decision.
I was totally bummed out to have it all end
like this, and just wanted to be alone, so I grabbed a cold soda from the
fridge and climbed up to the flying bridge to sulk
&
ponder.
After drinking about half the
soda, I set it down on the seat beside me to light up a smoke and try to calm
down as I processed the days disastrous developments.
The cigarette smoke felt unusually harsh in
this still, stagnant place of death, so I grabbed the soda and took a long
pull.- of 100 % pure sea water!
Even as
I spewed the stuff out of my mouth my mind was reeling with the implications of
what I had just experienced.
I could
hear Jim moving
about downstairs in the
galley, and besides there was no physical way on earth he could have switched
soda cans...simply
not physically possible - besides he was a
very long way from being in a joking mood.
I cannot
accurately describe how I was feeling at that moment,
but the closest I can come is that camera special effect they do in movies
where the background zooms in
& out
behind an actor distorting the viewers perspective as it moves. All sound
seemed to be on mute save for an intense ringing in my ears, the sound of
reality
cramps.
Everything else but this
singular moment fell away from consciousness as if I needed all my brain power
to deal with the cognitive dissonance created by this supernatural event.
I felt like I was in the twilight zone, or an episode of
outer limits...now it was
my brain in buffering mode trying to
explain what had just happened; and it could not.
Knowing I had to eliminate the unlikely
explanation of false taste impression; I took another sip from the soda can.
Still, pure sea water!
I took the can downstairs with me, sat myself
down at the galley table, and in what I know was a cracking voice, I says to
Jim- "
Ya know Cap, why the hell wait for noon, lets haul ass right now!"
My partner looks at me kinda strangely with a
very curious look on his large square face.
He didn't have to say a word, I knew that look meant
what has gotten
into you. Saying nothing, I
just handed him the soda can.
He looked
at the can then took a tentative sip, and spewed it all right in the sink.
Neither of us spoke for a good two
minutes...we just sat there looking stupid at each other.
Then, very calmly, Jim says, "
I saw
you take that from the fridge and go upstairs where there is no seawater, and I
saw you return without leaning over the side...so where did the seawater come
from?"
My answer was simply,
"
I am ready to go home now Jim, do we have to wait till noon?"
Thirty seconds later I was hauling up the
anchor while Captain Jim fired up the engine to take us out of devils
country.
We made our way past Ruth island and turned left towards the
bay's entrance, checking the tide book for depths and the chart for
hazards.
The last thing we wanted was to
be stranded in this place.
With Spurt point
falling away behind us on our starboard side we had a clear shot to the channel
so Jim gave it the throttle and just as we gained speed, the brand new steering
system installed a week earlier failed and the boat careened off toward the
rocky shore.
Jim reduces speed, and
steering capability suddenly returns.
When he speeds back up - the steering goes out and we head for the rocks
again.
Repeating this three times was
enough to convince us there was a major malfunction. The steering system was not at all easily accessible while
underway so it wasn't feasible to try to repair it until we were in safe harbor
in
Petersburg.
We absolutely didn't want to spend another
minute in Thomas bay so we did the only thing we could do; which was to
"aim" the boat as best we could once in the open channel, then
increase speed as long as possible before we had to slow down and re-aim the
boat.
It was like playing leap frog with
ourselves the whole way to
Petersburg,
and it took the better part of the day to finally arrive back at the transient
dock.
The trip back to town
had been so hectic
& intense the only
conversation was about navigation and seamanship.
With the expedition back in safe harbor and
the boat secured I stepped off onto the dock without a word and made my way up
to the pub for some much needed liquid therapy.
Half an hour later Jim shows up, parks himself beside me and ordered a
beer.
We drank in silence, not even
looking at each other.
We were both
oblivious to the atmosphere in the bar, as if we were the only ones in the
place.
As my third beer was winding down
I turned to Jim, gesturing with my index finger I said, "
Ya know..." Jim cut me off immediately, and angrily snapped
"
Listen, nothing happened over there, nothing...and that
is what I have to say, nothing. Don't you ever mention the subject or ask me
any questions because I have nothing to say, period, end of discussion."
The look on his face was that of a man not to
be trifled with; and I was certain then and now that if I had pushed the issue
any further the man would have punched me out to punctuate his point.
After a reasonable silence I looked over at
my former partner and said, "
Hey, Ya know what, all I was going to say
was I'm gonna get a room in town tonight, can't handle that bunk on the
boat...I need a shower & good
sleep, so I'll just go do that and get my stuff out of your way."
The
look on the man's face was that of someone who had just had their hospitality
insulted.
"
I'm sorry I snapped
at you" he said; "
it's been a grueling couple of days, that's
all. Don't waste money on a hotel, you
ain't in my way cause I'm not working on that boat tonight."
This guy was beginning to make me think he
was bi-polar with all his sudden mood swings, and I'd had about all of his
company I could stand, so I got that hotel room and spent another sleepless
night trying to figure out just where in my world view I was going to store the
memories from the bay of death.
I had to
rearrange my belief system to account for the supernatural, either that or end
up like poor Jim.
The following morning having had breakfast in town I made
reservations on the afternoon ferry back to
Ketchikan;
then strolled down to the transient dock to say my farewells to captain
Jim.
I simply couldn't believe my eyes
as I approached the boat.
Jim and two
other fellows were trying to keep his boat from sinking at the dock.
Fortunately Jim slept aboard the boat so he
heard the bilge alarm when it went off, and was able to start the pump.
The other guys were preparing to tow the boat
over to the haul out to get in on dry land.
Out of sheer curiosity I hung around until they got the boat up on
blocks.
The problem was spotted right
away, as in addition to the steering malfunction, the boot seal on the engines
lower unit had several puncture holes in the thick rubber, allowing seawater to
seep into the boat.
Jim
& I stared at the holes, then each
other.
He just silently shook his head
as if to remind me of his words from the night before.
I raised my hands as if to 'surrender' and
said kinda laughing..."
I ain't sayin a single word ...
except
I'll see you back in Ketchikan."
Epilogue:
My experience at the bay of death remained my central focus
for several days after returning home.
It
wasn't enough to just keep rolling it all over in my brain, I had to somehow
come to terms with it, to understand and accept it, and for that, I needed to
go visit Nana.
When I called Delaney he
said come right over as he was anxious to hear of the adventure.
As I was describing the trip to them Nana
would occasionally nod her head a little, but said nothing until I was
finished.
She asked her grandson to fix
her a cup of tea, and when he'd left the room, Nana leans closer to me and said
this: "
Now you know, because your soul is strong enough to know;
as
for my grandson...I'm just not sure his mind would have survived. You have been touched by the Kooshdaakaa
child, and they gave you a gift to remember them by."
A couple weeks later I ran into Jim at the hardware store,
and asked how it went with the boat repairs.
"
Funny thing about that, as it turns out, there was nothing
whatsoever wrong with the steering, it was in perfect working order! Boats, man...go figure...
that
thing was a lemon, so I sold it."
That was the last time I ever saw captain Jim, as a few weeks later I
heard he'd moved back to the lower 48.
I
have pondered my experiences in Thomas bay many times over the ensuing years
and the one thought that just keeps defying understanding is, what the hell
happened to Jim?
Clearly each of us had
been touched by the Kooshdaakaa but in very different ways.
My experience left me with a feeling of
wonder and enlarged my universe to include the truly paranormal; while Jim's
experience left him a shattered man immersed in fear and denial.
Nana's words echo back to me "
If you
go there and make it back alive, it will change you forever."
Sometimes when you go
looking for the magic, it finds you.
Until Next Time ~ Be Good to Each Otter
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