El and Bill - Here goes. For C-Dory folks info, Fort Peck Lake created by a dam on the MIssouri in central Montana in the 1930s has fabulous boating once you get to the water. It is a big "honker" with over 1,500 miles of shoreline and is rated as the largest fresh water body in the United States outside of the Great Lakes. Many species of warm water fish abound, and even chinook salmon have been successfully introduced for the deep water areas.
With the prevailing west winds, when storms do blow up, they can create big waves. With all kinds of arms spreading out from the main lake, boaters can usually find sheltered anchorages.
The first challenge is to get to it. The second one is to find a launch site. The third is to find a launch site with fuel. At my last count three launch sites had fuel. Some launch sites, e.g., Crooked Creek, are found 50 miles from a paved road. I know. I dragged my first 22' over that much gravel. Never again.
But the water is great! And when you are boating there you are not beset with a host of annoying regulations. The surrounding country is like it was when Lewis & Clark travelled on the Missouri River. If you enjoy boating where boats are rarely found beyond the few marinas, then Fort Peck will reward you. Walking the shorelines and hiking the ridges is a fun activity, too.
Over the years I have had several adventures on Fort Peck. One in particular occurred on the Friday of the Labor Day weekend in 1997.
The Far West II was in a slip in the Hell Creek marina. Hell Creek can be described as a "rustic" marina located 25 north of Jordan, Mt. after 25 miles of twists and turns on a reasonably decent gravel road - depending upon the season of course and the most recent thunder storms.
July of 1997 was a most difficult month for my family and me. We were living in Oregon at that time and boating Yellowstone Lake. My wife, Ursla, who loved boating and the C-Dory in particular, was in the advanced stages of diabetes. She went into a coma at Bridge Bay Marina and was rushed to a hospital in Billlings, and after five days she died on July 27.
The death of one's mate is traumatic enough, but when it occurs and your residence happens to be in another state, things can become complicated. My beloved Montana added to these complications by a series of unintentional blunders.
I mention all this and later as a prelude to the adventure in early Sept.
After Ursla's funeral, my four adult children and I began to lay out the "where do we go from here" scenario. It was decided that we would return to Yellowstone Park, retrieve the Far West II and put it into the Hell Creek Marina. My 11 year old grandson had been promised a boating and fishing trip which would be postponed until the Labor Day weekend.
After moving the boat I flew from Billings to Portland to reach my home north of Corvallis, of course leaving my pickup at the Billings airport.
I was patiently waiting for my wife's death certificate from Montana. Over a week went by and no certificate. As all of you folks know handling estate matters, nothing can be done with out death certificates. A check with the Yellowstone County Court house revealed no death certificate had been received. Calls to the attending physician's office accomplished nothing. The doctor had just left on an extended vacation out of the country. After a series of calls to the doctor's clinic, I left a message with the director that I was going to begin legal proceedings against the whole shooting match. A day later the director called saying that they had found the death certificate unsigned under a pile of papers, but only the doctor could sign it. Sorry. Only three weeks transpired when I finally received it.
But I added to my own misery by scheduling surgery on my left knee
in late August in June. That injury occurred at Fort Peck the year before while slipping off a boarding ladder and tearing the medial meniscus.
Keeping the date with my grandson was important, but it meant surgery the day before I flew back to Billings. No problem I said.
I arrive back at the Billings Airport on a very hot, humid early evening and headed for Fort Peck. As I drove north, evening thunder heads were building up all along the west. Reaching Hell Creek Marina at 10:00 p.m., I went to the boat and crawled in. I simply opened up the forward hatch and flopped in the forward berth and fell asleep.
At around midnight the thunder woke me up and some rain started coming through the hatch. Closing that I laid back down, smugly thinking about how secure I was. Let it rain or hail!
The lightning and thunder increased and suddenly winds started buffeting the boat. Then I heard banging, shrieking, creaks and groans. This was followed by some up and down sensations, and then I heard a most strange sound, that of gurgling under the hull. I had sailed enough to recognize that sound. It meant water was moving under the hull. But how could it be?
I need to stop here and make the reader privy to some facts. The slips at Hell Creek Marina were parallel to the shore line reached by short walk ways from the main dock. The slip I was in was by itself with the bows facing the shoreline. Mine was the smallest boat with six others aroiund 36 feet in length with twin screws.
The geology of the marina was that it was nestled along rather steep hills that provided protection from most storms coming from the west. A campground was located further up the arm on the same side. To the east of the marina the arm reached about a half mile to the opposite side.
Scrambling out of the berth, I stood up and looked around. There were lights along the shore line that appeared to be moving from right to left. But I knew there was only one road there. The rain was coming down in torrents and the wind howled. Suddenly I realized the lights weren't moving. The slip was! The slip had blown off the shoreling and was traveling backwards.
Now I did some foolish things and wasted time. In retrospect that became clear. I turned on the VHF and channel 12 and broadcast a May Day alert. It must have sounded comical. " Bridge Bay Marina, this is the Far West II calling. My slip has blown off the shore line." Of course no one was at the marina.
Next, I turned on the radar and warmed that up. The opposite shore seemed a good distance off. Plenty of time to figure out what to do.
Wrong. The rain and wind was so strong that I couldn't function outside and see a thing until lightning occurred creating a surrealistic scene.
I decided to abandon the slip, start the engine and back out and bob around uintil the storm passed. But I made a mistake in trying to preserve my lines by untying them. Why? Another short story.
A boating friend of mine had used the boat during my absence to Oregon and had enough half hitches on the bow, mid, and aft line cletes to start a braided rug. I fiddled with those lines and then decided to cut them clean.
I got the engine started (about the only intelligent thing I did) I then cut the mid and aft lines first, tearing up both knees because the dock was buckling up and down and nails,( no screws had been used)and raised enough as I scrambed on my knees gouging me. I couldn't stand on the dock because the heaving and the wind kept knocking me down.
Of course the boat swung sideways like a pendulum now, and I had to time my boarding with a long step to the gunwale. I slipped and bent my recently repaired knee to new angles, but oh well, I'm aboard.
I crawled forward, carefully opened the hatch (the rain poured in) and cut the bow line to the dock clete. Sitting lookng backwards through the cabin door, I jerked the Honda into reverse and started to back out when the lightning flashed showing to my horror I was at the opposite shore line without enough time or space to back out and get away from the train wreck.
The shore line was essentially a very steep cliff about 30 feet high made up of clay and sandstone.
The slip and all the boats came into a sudden stop at the water's edge. But I now had another problem. The waves started to come over the dock pushing the boats backwards. I had managed to stop the engine and raise it so it hit the clay bank without damage, but the boat was now loose. It took some time to find new ropes to secure the bow and sides, and while I was doing that the wind ceased and the waves rhythmically
washed over the dock.
I surveyed the slip and noticed that all the boats were still tied to it with minimal apparent damage. It was very dark and surprisingly warm so I decided to go on shore, which I did. But another and shorter storm with lightning changed my mind, and I quiickly fell asleep, exhausted and in pain. (to be continued later)
