Boat Boy Chronicles, Gus's Lodge Summer 1964
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A Collection of Stories About My Experiences as a Boat Boy Working at an Island Lodge in 1964
A Moment
Just a few lines, a poem, let your mind paint the picture. A place where time creates memories that last forever.
I wrote the piece called "A Moment" in mid-January 2012 during the early morning. My cousin Katrina had passed, she went very suddenly. I miss her so much, much more than words can describe. It was during the early morning hours that I would send her E-mails asking questions about photography, art, just about anything. It is during this time, our time, that I sense her presence. I feel that my vivid memories of this very special place are a gift as I am physically unable to return in person. Katrina shared strong feelings about the lodge and our conversations more often focused on years long gone by. She showed much more than a casual interest in the time I spent alone at the lodge 3 weeks before the summer season started in 1964. In 1964 three weeks at the lodge alone during late spring was the definition of solitude, and I savored every moment.
From You Gus, From You (Part One)
My first time driving the Ranger to pick up guests; a flawless performance. Part One
From You Gus, From YouBy Donald T. MacKinnon
The year is 1964, and I had just graduated high school. A job offer that any sane person would not hesitate to accept came my way. The job was boat boy at Gus's Lodge. The lodge provided living arrangements for parents while they visited their sons at camp. This fabulous boy's camp was located just outside of our cove and open to the main part of the Lake. I stayed at the lodge years before and had fond memories of those times, especially the food. The owners were extended family, and my father, an incredible carpenter would go up and work on the cabins or boathouse. So much of this was not new except this time I was on my own. What does a boat boy do? Well, just about everything, I soon found out; that is except the one thing I was supposed to do, drive the "Ranger".
The memory of the first time I drove to the lodge is still clear. Driving my 1951 ford sedan on its first long trip, it made the 3 hour drive to the lodge without incident much to my relief. As the lake appeared before me, I remember thinking, "This really is the most beautiful place in the world". I arrived at Harilla landing and needed to make a phone call out to the island for a ride. There was a payphone just outside the general store, located on a slight hill with the front of the store overlooking the lake. Throughout the whole summer, the store was a source for sodas, candy bars, and comic books. I remember the call, Gus answered; he expected me and said, "I will pick you up, give me a few minutes". I had not seen Gus for a couple years and was anxious to meet him again, would he remember me? My mind wandered as I looked out across the Lake. An island is a great place to be a boat boy for a lodge. This was it, my first full time job; I had graduated high school and was ready to begin just one of many adventures.
Soon a small boat appeared on the deserted lake about a mile away. It seemed like only minutes had passed before the boat was at the entrance to the landing. The driver was a heavy, older, red haired man in a white shirt and khaki pants. Soon I recognized Gus as he maneuvered the 12 foot aluminum boat with its 22hp Scott outboard motor up to the dock with ease. Gus reached up and shook my hand. I remember how happy he was to see me, and his big smile. The big friendly smile and hardy welcome, made me feel much at ease. He eagerly helped me with my suitcase and moved to the center seat. I sat in the back of the boat; the back seat by the motor was the only space available, and then he said, "Donny, you drive back, okay". The adventure had started as well as the learning experience of a lifetime.
I cleared the last buoy in front of the rocky entrance to the landing; looking ahead the lake was so big and not a boat in sight. Gus gave me the throttle up signal and off we went. I could not help but succumb to the beauty laid out before my eyes. The fresh, crisp, clean air was intoxicating. Trees, trees, and more trees silhouetted against the backdrop of the Gunstock and Belknap mountains. In no time, we rounded the point and the lodge appeared before us. The gleaming white two-story house with a wrap around porch and huge boathouse with its cabined rooftop deck looked so inviting. This was home for the summer and into the fall.
Gus showed me my room above the kitchen and made some spaghetti for lunch. We ate and talked about the things that I would need to do during the next three weeks. As instructed I did not mention the list my Aunt gave me before I left home. The list was from her mother, Gus's wife. Nothing like working for two bosses, I thought to myself. I remember listening intently as Gus explained about the lodge, he would leave the next day and I would be alone until next weekend. I had a great deal to learn and Gus was an excellent teacher.
First and most important was the boat, much work had to be done before she could be lowered into the water. As I entered the boat bay there she was; the "Ranger", a 28-foot Dodge antique speedboat. Covered with dusty plastic and canvas tarps I was about to awake her from a long winters rest. She looked so beautiful, even though covered with tarps, the dual cockpits, mahogany deck, and graceful lines were still visible. I remember that feeling, the excitement, soon I would be driving this boat, wow! For now, I just stood and listened to the work required in order to maintain the bottom of the boat. The work did not matter; I loved to be around boats and working on them would be even better. Gus and I spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready for me to scrape and caulk the boats bottom. Every seam needed cleaning and filled with oakum. This was a very old technique used to maintain wooden boat bottoms, and keep them from leaking. I would hold off on painting the bottom until next week after Gus checked my work and brought up this special copper paint. The afternoon went quickly with Gus and me working well together. Soon it was time to break for supper, and settle in for the night.
While Gus made supper, I gathered firewood for the fireplace. It was mid May and the nights were cold. The fireplace helped keep the living room warm and take the chill out of the house. I do not remember what Gus cooked for supper only that it was good. I was hungry and tired it had been a long day for me. My new room was very comfortable. Sleep came quickly as the loons and the sounds of the forest serenaded me.
The next three weeks went by rapidly, and soon I was eating much better. The rest of staff showed up, and I no longer had to cook for myself. I was a good cook, but still there was much to learn. As I expected, my routine changed a lot once the owners arrived. There would be no more fishing in the morning before starting my projects. By now, the fish needed a break. There was to be more focus on me getting my license and learning how to drive or so I thought.
I new every inch of the "Ranger" inside after washing with soapy water the oily dirty bulkheads, and outside after scraping, caulking, and painting the bottom. Now it was time to drive her, well not yet it seemed. I ended up learning by listening to Carl; he drove the "Riot" for the boy's camp. From him I learned why boats act the way they do, and little tricks to get these actions to work for me. Every boat is different but knowing a few important facts would help. The "Ranger" he said, "pulls to the left when put into reverse". Knowing this, I would always try to approach a dock on its right side or another way to put it port side to the post. I finally had my first lesson driving the boat. Gus was so nervous; I had never seen him like this before. That is when I realized how important and valuable the boat was to him, to Gus.
It was Monday morning; the Lake Marine Patrol Officer would arrive soon to give me a written test for a commercial drivers permit on the Lake. We had guests scheduled to arrive Friday afternoon. I had to be ready, but Gus was not ready to give up the driver's seat. We made sure the marine patrol showed up while Gus was at the camp teaching music. The Marine Patrol officer inspected the "Ranger", and gave me the commercial boat operator test; both of us passed with excellence. Just before leaving, the officer mentioned that the "Ranger" was beautiful and in great shape, a relief from previous years. Nobody would mention any details to Gus about today until the time was right. Gus's daughter Norma was expecting and could not fit behind the wheel to take me out for driving lessons. We would have to do it the hard way; I listened and learned.
The week went by quickly and I remember the anticipation building inside me. Somehow, I knew the forces of inevitability would play a major role in the day's events. That morning I cleaned and polished every inch of the boat, checked the oil, and made sure she would start. Just as he did everyday during the week, Gus took the small outboard and drove over to camp for the day. As I recall the phone rang around 2 o'clock, the guests were early. Everyone looked at me, Donny can you do it. Yes, I was ready, things were about to change.
As I walked into the boathouse, the "Ranger" looked beautiful and I was ready. I knew one thing for sure; this had to be a flawless performance. I carefully released all the mooring lines and climbed into the boat; took a deep breath and began. I retarded the spark and started the Lycoming engine; she started okay and sounded fantastic. I pulled back on the gearshift and slowly slipped her out of the boathouse. The boat gleamed in the daylight, 28 feet of highly polished mahogany deck and hull. The chrome glistened in the sunlight. Everyone watched from the porch as I maneuvered the big boat easily in the small cove. It was as if I had practiced this many times before.
From You Gus, From You (Part Two)
My first time driving the Ranger to pick up guests; a flawless performance. Part Two
It was time to head toward the Landing and pick up the guests. As I approached the first markers at the entrance to the cove, I noticed a boat at the public dock on the right side. This was just where I needed to park, so I slowed down my approach to the cove and stayed outside waiting my turn and the easiest side to dock the big boat. All boats will move to the left or to the right when the propeller turns in reverse. This depends on whether the propeller turns clockwise or counterclockwise. The Ranger pulled to the left or the "port" side. The boat at the dock was just starting to pull away. I began my approach to the dock passing the first marker at the entrance while moving slowly forward. It was important to keep the boat moving toward the dock but not move too fast. The approach speed has to be just right allowing the big boat to come along side of the dock gently. The guests standing on the dock seemed awestruck by the Ranger's beautiful hull, and deck gleaming in the daylight. I docked the big boat as if I had done it a thousand times before; the guests greeted me and remarked how well I had handled her. As I climbed out of the Ranger and onto the dock, I thanked them. "Welcome to Gus's Lodge almost, this boat will take you to the lodge," I had said while I tied the boat to the dock, and then introduced myself.
As I assisted the guests into the boat, I talked a bit about the boat and our ride to the lodge. They sat on a comfortable bench seat just behind me in a separate compartment. I gathered up their luggage and stowed it carefully in the rear cockpit area of the boat located behind the engine. I felt different; maybe it was the feel of responsibility and of being in charge. After starting the engine I untied the boat from the dock climbed in and carefully maneuvered the Ranger turning her around in the limited space near the public dock toward the open Lake.
I remember this day like it was yesterday and how the first half of "my first date" with the Ranger had felt. This was it, I had picked up the guests and was about to deliver them to the lodge. Then thinking ahead my elation soon turned into apprehension. The boat needed to go back into the boathouse, though I knew what to do the actual experience would be all new to me. Oh and then I thought of Gus, I would have to face him if anything should go wrong.
The trip back to the lodge was easy, and soon the boathouse, the wrap around front porch, and Gus napping in his favorite chair, WHAT! All this came into view as I rounded the point and entered the cove. Maybe, I could slip quietly into the cove and into the boathouse. Obviously, Gus did not notice the big boat was gone and not in her slip. He probably would not be napping had he noticed. Then Gus was awake, he turned, looked out, and stood up looking at me driving the Ranger with a boat full of guests. He turned and walked in a hurried fashion toward the ramp off the porch and on into the boathouse. As I approached the opening in the boathouse where the ranger stayed, a brisk crosswind appeared. Carl had told me that the biggest mistake people make is to slow down. I increased the throttle ever so slightly and kept the boats heading as to take me right into the slip. As suddenly as the wind picked up, it disappeared, now I was going too fast. I remember reversing the engine in order to slow her down quickly. I was still on course as the boat entered the slip; gently I reversed the engine again and brought the Ranger to a halt. I turned off the engine and looked around expecting to see Gus. In the darkness at the back of the boathouse I saw the gold rims of his glasses, he stood watching me ready to help if I needed it. He quietly left the boathouse, and in that moment, I heard him say "Yes Sir". The guests were so quiet, as I tied the boat to the docking post. While bending over to assist the guests out of the boat I asked, "Is there a problem" they all answered at the same time "no, you just brought this boat into the boat bay without touching the dock, there was only a 1/2 inch to spare on each side". I felt good, I had done my job well, and I pulled off a flawless performance.
Gus stood on the porch to greet the guests with that big warm smile that made everyone who visited feel welcome. Helping them with their luggage, I lead the way to the cabins. A couple of the guests stayed behind to talk to Gus for a few moments. Later I would find out that they were telling him about the great job I did handling the big boat.
All of the guests wanted to visit the camp before supper. I asked them to let the senior staff know, the boat rides to the camp, and back needed scheduling. I walked back to the main house from the cabins, still not sure if I had passed the test. Norma just smiled as I entered the kitchen to get a soda, she did not have to say a word. Gus called from his chair on the porch, "Donny". Quickly I stepped on to the porch and walked over to see him. He told me to gas up the Ranger after dropping the guests off to visit their sons. He sat back in his favorite chair, looked out at the lake and then back to me "Where did you learn to drive a boat like that", I remember him asking me. Smiling I said "From you Gus, from you".
An Old Man, a Young Man, and a Very Large Rock, Part One
Part One
Building a dock was new to me, but not new to Gus. Early one morning, it was always too early; Gus talked to me about building a "great" dock on the other side of the cove. Gus always used the word "great" as he easily verbalized the impossible to a "would be" helper. First move 3 large rocks into the lake to serve as a base for a much larger rock to sit on. Then move this giant rock to a position on top of the first three rocks. The huge car sized rock would sit half submerged, and serve as a focal point for the great dock to rest. A beautiful deck would be built around the huge granite centerpiece. Gus's plan sounded so easy to me, the naïve young man that I was. After explaining the project to me, Gus walked into the boat house to gather the tools we would need, and I followed.
After collecting what seemed to me a mountain of tools, Gus and I carefully carried three chain falls (pulley system used to hoist boats), chains, clamps, hooks, cable, and tools from the boathouse shop through the woods along the shoreline to the first rock that had to be moved. The path was slippery in some spots and rocky in others. The terrain was made even more treacherous by all of the equipment and tools in our arms.
We must have been a sight, a tall skinny 18 year old, and Gus, a not very tall slightly overweight music teacher. We did not have the appearance of an experienced laborer, and expert rigger; the type of workers you would expect to undertake a construction project like "the great dock". I was young, skinny, and quick to learn. Already having learned that doing anything over such rough terrain was very hard work.
Gus, in his sixties, did not seem to tire as we moved the heavy pulleys into position, and placed the chain around the first rock we needed to move. I had worked with Gus before and knew to just follow his direction and an explanation would come soon. These were big rocks about half as big as a car. I remember asking myself; how would all this heavy rock moving be done? It was time to ask the big question. "Gus, how will we do all this heavy lifting", I remember saying? "Donny, the chain falls will give us a mechanical advantage of 6 to 1", he explained. I listened intently as the explanation had started to make some sense. Little did I know my science class lessons on machines and pulleys would ever be used, and used so soon. Using gravity, machines and leverage we moved the first rock into the lake with ease. This was the first day in three and by far the easiest.
Gus and I walked back to the lodge; he was totally satisfied with the progress we made and I, completely exhausted. As we walked back, my gaze turned across the cove to the white porch surrounding the large two story main house with its comfortable white wicker furniture that looked so inviting.
I had been hired for the summer to drive the boat. The boat was a Dodge, a beautiful 28 foot antique speedboat used to provide transportation from the mainland to the island and ferry the guests back and forth to the boys' camp. The opportunity to stay at the lodge and drive the big boat made the hard work easy.
Once we arrived back at the lodge, I went into the kitchen and got a soda for myself and a large glass of ice with water for Gus. Already settled in his favorite chair he contemplated the day's events while looking across the lake to the distant mountains. We all feasted on the beautiful views that the lodge had to offer of this glacial lake. For many afternoons before this one, Gus had looked across the cove to the site of the great dock. The dock site preparation was all figured out, yes, he had a plan "no stone was left unturned", literally. We talked some about how the dock would be built before he nodded off, taking a short nap in his favorite chair.
As the dinner meal was prepared by family and help, I headed into the boathouse to get the boat ready. I liked everything to run smoothly with the boat and I treated the Ranger like she was mine; it was my job. I drove over to the camp front dock and picked up the guests an hour before dinner. The season just started we had some guests, but not a full house. This meant we had time to undertake dock building and other interesting projects.
I remember how early the next day started for me, and how sore I was from the previous days work. I had a busy morning ahead for me, boats, breakfast, and drive the guests to the camp dock. Thinking back, yes I hated getting up early, but mornings were beautiful on the Lake. Summer had just begun and the weather was cool; warming up fast toward noon. A light misty fog moved across lake, on that cool crisp morning. I had dropped the guests off at the camp front dock, wished them all a good day. Carefully maneuvering the boat away from the dock I headed back to the lodge. The smell of pine trees, bacon frying, and hot coffee seemed to linger in the air as I cut across the cove to the lodge. The big boat glided by the dock site, and Gus waved happy to see his helper. Soon we would start on that second rock.
I walked through the woods to the dock site; the air was rich with pine scent. Gus directed me to set up the chain a slightly different way than for the first rock. I had already learned to follow instructions exactly knowing the job would go faster and easier, if I did. He was an incredible engineer, at first glance you would never have realized the amount of work this music teacher could do. The day went well each rock sliding exactly into place. By now these accomplishments by a sixty six year old man and a skinny kid, had become business as usual. For Gus the word fail did not exist and some of that same attitude was starting to rub off on me.
A walk through the woods to the lodge and Gus would head for his favorite chair. I poured some water into a tall glass filled with ice and brought it out to him. As I approached, I noticed how intently he looked out across the lake. It was as if a link or bond existed between him and the lake; she held him very close. It was 1964 and the lake was not developed at all. Quite so quite, not many boats, much of the noise we heard came from a couple pairs of loons living in the back cove across from us near the camp. Sipping our cool drinks we talked for a while about our successes until he nodded off. Soon, it would be time for me to drive the boat over to the camp dock to pick up the guests.
Gus would wake up from his "little chair nap" as I returned with a boat full of guests. He would greet everyone with a big warm smile as they left the boathouse and stepped onto the porch. The air would soon fill with conversation as everyone waited for dinner. Gus seemed to enjoy meeting people, and conversation abounded as the wonderful aromas from the upcoming evening meal drifted out of the kitchen window. The topics would range from the Arts (music) to Washington and international politics. Gus was part of why people enjoyed staying at the lodge so much; along with the fantastic cooking and the ambiance of the Lake.
The next day very little work was done because both of us were busy, Gus at the camp, and I shuttling guests back to the landing as they headed home. By late afternoon we did get some time to work on the big rock. Gus had me bring a much longer section of heavy cable over to the site of the "great" dock. Unlike the other rocks this rock was not near the shore line; it was about 10 feet away. Not far you say, for this rock 10 feet was like 10 miles. We wrapped the stranded cable around the rock, and fastened the hook from the chain fall pulley onto the cable loop. We set the chain-fall on the ground near a large tree in a position that would give us the right direction for pulling the rock. Then the pulley system was fastened around the base of the tree with a heavy chain. We tensioned the rig a little and left it, our time was up.
Gus did not walk back with me this evening; instead he decided to spend some time thinking. Everything was okay between us, although we had begun to stretch each others patience. This was hard, tedious work over very rough terrain. I was under constant pressure to stay relatively clean and available for the guests. The boats always came first and Gus would always give way when conflicts occurred. The senior staff of the lodge did a good job of give and take. That is probably why it worked at all.
I remember looking across to the dock site; there was Gus standing on a large rock near the shore. First he would look at that huge rock that we wanted to move. Then directed his gaze down the path the rock would need to follow in order to rest on top of the three rocks already in place. Now he would look out across the lake and then up to the mountains all the while smoking his pipe. Every few minutes I would hear him say "yes sir".
I walked around the shoreline to remind him it was getting dark, but mostly to make sure he did not get hurt in the low light while walking the path back to the lodge. I think we all went to sleep early that night; it had been a busy day.
An Old Man, a Young Man, and a Very Large Rock, Part Two
by Donald T. MacKinnon
The sun, and Donny arose at almost the same time. The sun needed no help, but I did. I slept in one of the rooms above the kitchen. Gus would use a broom handle to bang on the ceiling and wake me up. I already knew we had to get an early start; a few guests coming in around 3 o'clock in the afternoon. The guests arriving in the afternoon meant we would not have much time to work on moving the rock. Gus was getting anxious, this was taking a long time.
The walk thru the woods along the shore was all too short for my aching muscles. There it was, looming before us in the morning light, that granite behemoth. I pulled on the chain, the cable tightened, but the rock did not move. We wrapped a chain around the rock and set up another block and tackle system. I pulled on the chain and the whole system became taut. We both pulled on the block and tackles together; the rock did not move. One more block and tackle was all we had. I would go back to the boat house to get more chains, clamps, and hooks. I saw Gus sitting down, near one side of the rock toward the back; he had an idea. As I was about to leave he said, "Donny, get the house jack also", so back I ran. I was getting tired just running back and forth to the boat house.
While I was getting the house jack Gus had started to set up the third block and tackle system. This was fast becoming more than just moving the boulder, yes boulder, this was no longer a rock. I viewed the moving of the rock as a challenge, a conflict between us and this huge mass of stone.
On my return from the boathouse, we finished hooking up the additional chains. Already we had two chains and one cable wrapped around the boulder and the house jack was next. Our block and tackle system gave us a mechanical advantage of 18. It was like 18 men pulling on the boulder every time we tightened up all the chains. I saw immediately what Gus was up to with the house jack. Yes, this was going to work, it had to, we did not have any more tools. Gus worked the house jack, while I tightened the chains, first one then the other. Once all the chains were tight, Gus gave the house jack another turn or two. Then I would tighten the chains again; THE ROCK STARTED TO MOVE! At least 2000 pounds of New England granite was starting to roll. We would repeat this process at least a dozen times before the house jack was fully extended having reached its highest point. The giant boulder was leaning very precariously exactly in the direction we wanted it to go. We both felt that with one or two pulls on the chain falls; the rock would roll over, slide down the slippery bank and into its final resting place. Gus positioned himself next to one of the chain falls and I on the other. The third block and tackle would serve to help hold the rock from going in the wrong direction. "Ready Gus", I yelled, he nodded and very quietly I thought I heard him say, "Yes sir". We pulled on the chains; we pulled again, and again, and again. The huge behemoth of a boulder rolled over and slid just as planned; then stopped. We both could not believe our eyes, it stopped. The massive rock had come to a halt just as it was entering the lake. Gus muttered something appropriate, and just shook his head. He found the nearest rock to sit on, took out his pipe and had a smoke.
We talked about the problem at hand, this was serious. Gravity and momentum should have been enough to move the rock all the way into the lake. We noticed that the rock was just hung there, for no apparent reason. Okay let's do it again. We unhooked and unfastened everything. This was a brand new problem. A voice from the main house echoed across the cove reminding us about the guests arriving soon. I would need time to cleanup.
We fastened a cable around the boulder and hooked it to the largest block and tackle. The house jack was positioned under the edge of the rock away from the lake. Gus gave the house jack a few turns and I followed by tensioning the block and tackle. This time the rock did not move, the house jack could not be turned anymore. Both Gus and I pulled on the chain attached to the block; we pulled and pulled again. Then the unthinkable happened, the cable broke. Yes, the cable snapped flinging the end through the air and taking a big chunk of bark out of a nearby tree. We were okay physically, stationed well away from the rock; mentally, we both felt tired and beaten. I was disgusted, dirty, hot, and sore. That was it; we were out of time, the main house was yelling across the cove to come and get cleaned up. Once again the voice called, "Donny". Gus yelled back "just a few minutes more". I was totally defeated, this was to be the first and only time Gus and I would have words.
I stormed back to the main house, time had run out. I needed to get cleaned up and ready the boat for the guests. As it turned out not a moment too soon, from the boat house I heard the phone ring. As I backed the 28 foot antique boat out of the boathouse I could not help but notice Gus sitting on a rock smoking his pipe. I pulled out of the cove; he did not wave. The ride to the landing seemed ever so long. I greeted the guests, loaded their luggage, and proceeded to bring them back to the lodge. The boat trip with the guests was a nice break for me. I was still upset over the argument Gus and I got into; was I out of line? A nice boat ride in a beautiful antique speedboat would help me relax. I asked the guests if they would enjoy a little longer trip to the lodge. The scenic route took us around a beautiful island with a pristine beach. The boat flew across the lake as I increased the throttle; I thought "let's see what she will do". The ride was smooth as the boat came to a plane easily and flew across the open water. The Lake was all mine, there was not another boat in sight. This was just the thing I needed to help relax a little and sort things out. As the boat cleared the island the boy's camp came into view. I slowed the boat down just a little as we passed in front of the main dock. The campers were all awestruck by the beautiful "Ranger", her mahogany deck and hull gleaming in the sunlight. Now I slowed the boat down even more to headway speed and entered the cove that the lodge was in, so green, lush, and rocky. I was a little worried for Gus, this was a major defeat. I began my approach to the boathouse, the "Ranger" gliding in front of the huge boulder with Gus still standing there smoking his pipe. I tied up the boat and assisted the guests as they climbed out of the boat and onto the boathouse deck. Everyone awestruck by all the equipment hung from the ceiling, stashed in corners, and fastened to the walls I answered questions and helped with their luggage.
I decided to go stand on the front porch for a moment and check on Gus. The aroma from the kitchen dominated the air while I stood at the railing looking at Gus. He was still standing on a rock, looking at the huge boulder and then out across the lake. Everything was so quite, as if something was about to happen. I thought, better go help him get back to the lodge. Just then, the almost eerie silence was broken by a grinding sound and Gus yelling "Donny, Donny, the rock is moving". I could see the rock slide into the lake. Running as fast as I could on the slippery path around the cove I stopped and stood exactly were The rock was earlier. My gaze continued to the top half of the giant boulder. There it rested on top of the three rocks just as planned. What just happened? Gus climbed onto the huge rock; he stood up, and reached into his pocket for his pipe. This man called Gus had done something no other person could have done. In my opinion, Gus used his incredible concentration along with his love for the lake and island to solve the problem standing in the way of accomplishing his dream. Once again his gaze went out across the lake, almost like saying "thank you" for what just happened and I heard him say "Yes Sir".
Too weird you say; believe me, this would not be the last time I would see Gus "do the impossible". The summer of 1964 continued as did the work on the "Great" dock, and Gus taught me a plethora of skills that I would use for many years to come. I think often of that moment in time, the lake, the island, the lodge, and a man called "Gus" one of the great influences in my life.
April 24, 2010
Quick, Get Donny!
Donny, we have no water in the kitchen!
By Donald T. MacKinnonAnother beautiful day, after dropping the guests off at camp and gassing up the Ranger I headed back to the lodge. The air still smelled of pine, bacon, eggs, and hot coffee as I entered our cove and brought the big wooden boat into the boathouse. The Ranger needed a little work done so I started right away. My primary responsibility as boat boy during the season after camp opened was to keep the antique craft running and ready to go in a moments notice.
The guests, after spending most of the day with their sons at camp wanted and early pickup, I met them all at the camp front dock in the Ranger. It seemed the parents of the campers wanted a little "down" time, and all decided to come back early. This was great for me, I would need to make only one trip and I had just enough room. All went well with the pickup, and from their conversations, they would all meet on the porch for some drinks before dinner. I maneuvered the old boat into her narrow slip in the boathouse, and then helped the people out of the boat while feasting on the compliments about my driving. Each group wanted ice; I assured them that the bartender would see to it right away. After delivering a bucket of ice to each cabin, I was finished for the day. Now I would loose myself in the boathouse, cleaning and polishing the Ranger, or doing a little fishing off the backside of the boathouse out of view from the kitchen. Sometimes I would take walks into the woods behind the house. The smell of the forest was enchanting, almost hypnotic, and a fine end to the day.
The lodge's ambiance seemed to lend itself to perfect strangers sharing conversation and laughs. There was a mystique about these surroundings and the beautiful house with its wrap around porch tucked away in this quiet cove among the pines. People realized this and returned year after year, some guests would stay even though their son's no longer went to camp. From back in the boathouse, I could hear the guests as they laughed, told stories, and joked while dinner preparations were underway.
Suddenly a loud shriek followed by out of control laughter. At first I thought nothing of it until, "Someone find Donny quick, oh no, now what are we going to do", "Did you find him, where could he be". One of the kitchen staff came running into the boathouse, "Donny, there is no water", she said desperately. I ran out the doorway and up onto the porch where the guests had been talking and laughing. Now instead, their eyes were fixed on a steady stream of water shooting up through a small knothole in the floor. I could not believe what I saw; it looked like a geyser gushing out of the porch floor. "Donny, you have to fix the pipe quick," Lucy said frantically. I went around to the front of the porch and removed the access panel. There it was a pipe had burst.
First, I ran down and turned off the pump; then carefully worked my way over the rough terrain, and into the boathouse. Somehow, I had to fix the broken pipe. Gus had already taught me about PVC plumbing so no problem I would have it fixed as soon as I could find a splice fitting. BIG PROBLEM; there was not a splice fitting to be found; I looked everywhere. I stood in front of the bench pondering my fate. I knew there were no splice fittings because the last time I cleaned the boathouse I put all the fittings in a wooden box, elbows and tee fittings. I did not want to disappoint Gus; I HAD TO FIX THE PIPE.
The one thing I learned staying at the lodge by myself, and working on the boat alone was how to improvise. I looked all around the workbench for a solution; then something appeared above the bench, there it was. Hidden between the floor joists of the ceiling, and among the cobwebs, was my solution. Will it work? This is crazy. This is Gus's lodge. It will work. I saw a faucet attached to a piece of PVC. I set the faucet on the bench, and rummaged through the fitting box until I found a tee. Meanwhile the pandemonium was building in the kitchen, "We have no water, what is that boy doing?" I recognized the voice it was Lucy, she was really stressed over what to me was a little crisis.
I had to hurry, but get it right the first time. It seems that a tee is a splice with a hole in it, but I still needed to plug the hole. I looked in the fitting box, no plugs. My original solution though crazy, no, insane, will work. I set the tee on the bench under the faucet and PVC pipe. The PVC pipe was too short and damaged it might leak. With a new piece of pipe added to the cleaned up faucet, the thing was looking good; it might work, no, it has to work. I inserted the tee fitting into the pipe coming off the faucet, added a couple clamps, and the job was done. Why was I laughing this is serious.
Okay, here I go, for a moment I felt like I was stepping into the line of fire. The boathouse door was opposite the kitchen side door. "Donny we still don't have water" Lucy called from the kitchen while wringing her hands in desperation. "He still, that Donny, has not fixed the pipe, oh Norma. Why is he so slow, Norma it's not funny, we still don't have any water". Some one called to Lucy from the porch, "he just ran by". From the boathouse, I had made a mad dash around the corner of the porch to avoid being seen from the kitchen. Stopping in front of the porch, I removed a front access panel. Just before I went under the porch, a guest leaned over the railing, smiled, and said with a wink of the eye, "From what I can see you're doing just fine". Quickly I attached "the thing", it all fit together perfectly. I crawled out from under the porch, and headed for the pump, at least this part was down hill. After turning the pump on, rather than wait until the pump came up to full pressure, I headed back up to the house and under the porch again. Fantastic, no leaks, crawling out from under the porch I turned to the guests and put my finger to my lips shh. I ran up onto the porch and into the kitchen, before Lucy could say anything, I said, "Please check the water, and let it run a few minutes". I took off before she turned around; I wanted to check for leaks one more time, and put the access panels back before Gus arrived from camp. After closing the access panels, the guests applauded as I stood up; of course, I took a bow.
Well, that was a bit of excitement, and the guests they were okay. Later they would tell me that the "workings" of the lodge were entertaining. Joking and laughter returned to the front porch, and the evening meal preparation resumed. Me, I had a workbench to cleanup, and tools to put away.
I heard Gus pull up to the dock in the aluminum boat. As he did every day, he went into the kitchen to get a glass of ice with water. Naturally, everybody talked about the pipe that burst, and how quickly I fixed the problem. After getting his water and hearing the stories, he set his glass of water down and decided to check out my plumbing job.
Gus inspected my work, put the access panels back in place and headed for the boathouse. I had better have a good reason for putting that faucet under the porch. I had 10 minutes at most before; "Donny" Gus called "I answered "Yes Gus" as he came into the boathouse to talk. First, we talked about the way the water shot up through the knothole in the floorboard. I assured him the guests took it all in stride, and if anything, it added to their afternoon. He smiled and turned to walk back outside, then stopped and turned around to talk to me again. "Donny" he said, "Why is there a faucet in the place where the pipe burst?" A thought raced through my mind, "do not say there were no splice fittings", nervously I replied, "I did that so we could have water while working on the plumbing system. It seemed like the perfect place to install a faucet." He smiled, turned to walk out of the boathouse, and as he headed toward the porch, I heard him say, "Yes sir".
The "Battery Drill"
The Ranger's battery did not have enough charge left to start the engine. Plan "B" was to take place in order to get a fully charged battery into the Ranger.
by Donald T. MacKinnon
I woke before Gus that particular morning so I could get an earlier start. One of the guests had wanted a boat ride to the camp early in order to visit his son. I remember this guest very well. He was Italian with a heavy accent, large in stature with a deep voice and a warm smile. Certainly, you could describe him as likeable and he and Gus exchanged greetings in Italian the day before when the guest arrived. He was a big tipper and joked around a great deal.
Things were going okay that morning until I attempted to start the Ranger. There was only one chance to start the boat's big Lycoming engine. I sensed there was very little juice left in the battery the second I pushed the start button. The boat's battery did not have enough power to start the engine. The "battery drill" was about to begin; there was not a moment to spare. I climbed into the engine compartment and quickly removed the battery cables. It was 5:45 AM and I needed to start the boat by 7:00 AM, you might say this was "plan B". I ran out of the boathouse with the battery and loaded it into the aluminum boat tied up at the dock outside the boathouse. After starting the 22 HP motor I slowly pulled the boat away from the dock. Now clear of the dock, I headed for camp at full throttle. The light boat skipped across the water and soon I was at the camp's back dock. I grabbed the battery and headed up the hill to the maintenance shed. The camp worker was sipping his coffee, saw me and smiled. He bellowed out a big good morning and pointed to the battery sitting next to the charger. We checked the battery for charge and he helped me put the dead battery on the charger. Picking up the fully charged battery, I ran down the hill to the aluminum boat, loaded the battery, jumped into the boat, started the motor and raced back to the lodge. Time was running out, luckily nobody took notice of me lifting the battery out of the aluminum boat and heading into the boathouse. Installation of the charged battery was easy, now to try all over again. I pushed the start button and the engine turned over and started. Then just as it did every morning, a loud backfire followed by that nice almost musical sound that the Lycoming engine made. Glancing at my watch, I had 5 minutes to spare. I left the boat idling while I headed out of the boathouse and onto the porch to pick up my passenger.
Earlier while loading the battery into the Ranger I heard singing, yes singing. One interesting thing about the lodge was its sound acoustics, classical music and jazz sounded fantastic. People were encouraged to bring instruments and play while staying. The guest in cabin 1 on the deck over the boathouse discovered this unusual sound attribute while shaving. I remember him telling me later that he had a very good sleep and feeling so great, he began singing while getting ready to meet his son.
Gus was sitting in his favorite chair having coffee. He gazed at the water as a light fog rolled across the lake. It was a beautiful morning, enough to make anybody want to sing. He did not need an invitation to sing along with the guest in Italian. That was when I began to hear two voices singing and it sounded good. Although I could not be so sure for the rest of the guests staying at the lodge, after all it was 7 AM. I met the singing guest at the boathouse entrance; he was anxious to meet his son and was ready to leave. I untied the boat, while he made himself comfortable on the seat behind me, and never missed a note as he and Gus continued to sing. As I backed the boat out of the boathouse, we must have been a sight. He was standing behind me, his arms extended as if performing to a great crowd, singing the words Figaro to Gus. Gus standing on the porch sang back to him what sounded like the accompaniment as the boat left the boathouse and turned around to leave the lodge. The singing stopped once I began to get underway. Now only the drone of the Rangers Lycoming engine was heard as we headed for the camp's front dock.
I delivered the guest to the front dock and then headed back to the lodge. The smell of bacon eggs and coffee filled the air and made me hungry. There was just enough time for me to eat breakfast before taking the guests to camp. This was just one of many stories about the lodge during that summer of 1964.
New Guestbook
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vallain Apr 1, 2011 @ 9:40 pm | delete
- Thanks for sharing your memories.
Blessed by a Squidoo Angel.
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Snozzle
Jun 18, 2010 @ 11:55 am | delete
- Excellent - a really interesting read.
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ValerieEssentials
May 12, 2010 @ 8:33 am | delete
- I LOVE this writers stories... Love reading anything he writes!
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May 12, 2010 @ 2:00 am | delete
- A fascinating story Donald.
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by candleguy821
I am a retired principle engineer and a Vietnam Veteran. While in Vietnam I was assigned to the 170th Assault Helicopter Company, where I served as cr... more »
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