Getting to the
PATHFINDER was quite an experience in itself as I had to fly to Homer,
Alaska, via Seattle and Anchorage. Landing in Homer in mid-August,
I was greeted by a fine Alaska summer day as I stepped down the ladder
from the small plane. Commander Sid Miller, executive officer of the
PATHFINDER and Lt.(j.g.) Bob Roush were there to pick me up and drive
me to the ship. We passed the Salty Dawg Saloon, a well-known Homer
landmark, and were soon at the ship. Within a short time the PATHFINDER
got underway for its working grounds on the west side of Cook Inlet
in the Kamishak Bay area.
Upon arrival in
the working grounds, I was assigned to the survey launch of Officer-in-Charge,
Lieutenant Don Nortrup. At eight o'clock in the morning, amidst much
hustle and bustle, the survey boats were put over; and I commenced
my first real day's work in NOAA. We set out to work in one of the
old wooden survey launches for Outer Bruin Bay. As the tide was predicted
to be favorable for running shoreline, Lt. Nortrup headed for the
shore. Within half an hour, Lt. Nortrup taught me that one of the
primary jobs of a NOAA survey launch is to find rocks such that unsuspecting
mariners do not find them with disastrous consequences. The way that
he taught me this lesson was to have the survey launch run aground
on a rock during an ebbing tide (contrary to predictions.) As a consequence,
I spent my first day of hydrography hung up on the same rock that
we had just discovered. However, we did have plenty of time to get
the position of that rock. In the late afternoon the tide had risen
sufficiently for us to be pulled off the rock. Captain Herb Lippold,
commanding officer of the PATHFINDER, took the ship as close as he
safely could to our boat, then took a ship's boat and carried a line
to us from the ship. While passing the line to us, he passed on the
sad news that the PATHFINDER had been ordered back to Seattle to be
laid up and our survey season was ending. He returned to the ship
and commenced pulling us off the rock.
After a day or
so of removing tide gauges, visual signals, and electronic navigation
shore stations, the ship got underway and laid a course from Cook
Inlet to Cape Spencer and the Inside Passage. The PATHFINDER's reputation
as a lucky ship proved unfounded when crossing the Gulf of Alaska
as we had an extremely rough transit. As Captain Lippold said concerning
that stretch of ocean, " I never had a smooth crossing of the Gulf";
and even the PATHFINDER, on what was to be her final homecoming, could
not beat the odds. After about two days of pitching, rolling, and
yawing the ship entered the calm waters of Cross Sound and proceeded
down the Inside Passage.
As I was new to
the ship and stood watch only as an observer, I was able to enjoy
much of the magnificent scenery of the Inside Passage on the way south
to Seattle. However, having spent over five years in the Navy prior
to entering NOAA Corps, I was able to recognize and admire excellent
seamanship. Early one morning, while still dark and transiting the
north side of Vancouver Island, Captain Lippold came to the bridge.
Within a few minutes of his arrival on the bridge, the helmsman began
having difficulty steering. Captain Lippold calmly took the conn and
ordered "Hard Left" and we proceeded to crab through Race Passage
in the dark, an area notorious for its strong currents. After passing
the dangerous area, the captain returned the conn to the officer-of-the-deck
and retired for the remainder of the night without saying another
word. A few hours later we passed through Seymour Narrows, another
area of difficult tides and currents.
The next day,
we were at Seattle and beginning the transit of the Lake Washington
Ship Canal on the final leg of the PATHFINDER's trip home to the Pacific
Marine Center on Lake Union. We called the operator of the Hiram M.
Chittenden Locks from Shilshole Bay, and we were assured that the
constricted passage leading to the locks was clear. We proceeded into
the canal; and, just before the Burlington Northern Railroad Bridge,
we saw a large Coast Guard cutter coming out. Without missing a heartbeat,
Captain Lippold once again took the conn and ordered "Full astern"
followed by "Full ahead. Hard left." The PATHFINDER was a single screw
steamship with manual engine room controls so Chief Engineer Ray Schmitz
and his "snipes" were earning their pay as a succession of "Full astern"
and "Full ahead" commands were given. The ship was spun around in
an area having only a ship length or two distance across to maneuver
within. Captain Lippold went to the left to be able to gauge the location
of the bow relative to a bridge pier. He didn't go to the right, which
was the more natural direction with a single-screw vessel, because
there was a shoal area on the south side of the channel which was
difficult to judge one's distance from. I was on the bow of the PATHFINDER
during this remarkable ship-handling display listening to the orders
and hearing the jingle of the engine order telegraph. After getting
turned about, we headed back to Shilshole Bay and returned to the
canal after the Coast Guard vessel had cleared. Within an hour we
were tied up at Pacific Marine Center. Needless to say, I was extremely
impressed with the shiphandling skills of my "new" colleagues. Captain
Lippold, who had sailed on the PATHFINDER as a brand-new ensign in
1951, brought her home to stay.
Never again did the PATHFINDER sail on a charting mission. The sturdy
survey vessel that had served for 30 years in war and peace was deactivated
on September 10, 1971. The ship was stripped of all usable equipment
over the next few months and then purchased by General Auto Wrecking
of Ballard, Washington. Not all of the PATHFINDER was scrapped in
1972 as the house was removed and was serving as an office on a pier
on the Duwamish River in 1979. Perhaps that small part of the PATHFINDER
is still there filled with memories of the South Pacific and a quarter
century of work charting the waterways of Alaska.
