Have you guys ever been out on a larger body of water and encountered a rogue wave? I have, and it ain't funny! Here is my story, lets hear yours....
Sometime around 1993, I was travelling up lake Chelan in my fathers 21' deep hull Glassply. My dad bought this boat especially for this type of trip. The boat was laying in someones backyard on the grass, full of water, all wood completely rotted out, inboard Chrysler motor in ruins. My dad bought and resurected this boat and did a fantastic rebuild on it, from the shell, up. New keel, stringers, all wood new... He foamed in the deck, and reinforced the crap out of the boat. Stainless steel engine cradle spanned four stringers. Complete rebuild on the engine, and sterndrive. Tough ass boat. He did this for a reason, ...Lake Chelan.
In 1993 we were headed uplake to hunt and stay at his buddies hunting cabin near the top of the lake, not quite stehekin, lets just say an "un-named" creek. He and his friend have hunted here for over 30 years. Have not missed a season. God's country. If the hunting is bad, the fishin'is good...grab your rifle...were going fishing! Dozens and dozens and dozens of muley bucks have been shot here. Dozens. The hunt is a week long trip. Sometimes longer. You pack enough stuff, to last your trip- and then some. Extra gas for fishing. Propane for the cabin. Extra's to leave in the cabin for the next visitor. Three or four guys on a week long or better trip, by boat, plus room for three or four bucks on the way down lake, you need a big sturdy boat. My dad made one.
So here we are midweek, maybe 10 am launching from Lake Chelan State Park. It is cold and windy. We have a twenty mile plus trip up lake to execute in late october, during deer season, to get to the cabin. Once there we will unload the boat, and tie it off to some rock cribbing, letting it float, bow into the wind, with two batteries covering the bilge pump incase things get ugly. We are headed uplake with a mild breeze pushing 3 foot rollers downlake. The glassply is handling them well, and my dad is gentle on the throttle, no need to hurry, we have good time to get to the cabin and offload. The deck of the boat is packed with gear. Coolers, milk crates full of homemade canned foods. Gun cases, sleeping bags. Coleman fuel and propane. I was in charge of twenty gallons of fuel in five gallon containers. I sat on a cooler and made sure all was well. We pounded our way up lake.
My dads boat has a higher than normal canopy and frame he had custom made for fishing under. You can stand and fish all day, under the canopy without stooping. What a relief. During the salmon season when things get ugly, we zip in the sides and break out a little snakebite, and keep fishing. On this day, as we plowed uplake, we had half of the canopy up. We layed the back half down at the stern to allow riders to watch for deer and enjoy the view, yet still shed most of the splash from the trip uplake.
As we plowed our way up lake, my dad was like a hawk, keeping an eye on the water. You never know when you will find a log laying and waiting. Many a man has lost his life on water like this. One thump of the hull into a submerged log, and the water starts pouring in. On this day, the wiper kept slapping from side to side, my dad peering thru the glass driving us all uplake. I was excited to get to the cabin. The last year, I had shot a nice buck above the cabin, and "helped" fill the other tags too if you know what I mean. The old timers had it made with me at camp. I was up and at em' all day long. They could return to the cabin and light off the stove, and they knew where I was....up the gorge, looking for deer. They were eating eggs and bacon as I was glassing each day. I wouldn't come down until maybe noon, to a warm cabin and a couple of old guys sleeping around the stove. Papers and books astrewn.
Hunting is an amazing thing. Nothing soothes my senses like a great hunt. As I slept in that cabin each night, I remember drifting to sleep, thinking nothing but deer and rock and sky. A goat was up there above me every morning, looking down at me in pity. Occasionally kicking a rock over a ledge to remind me how weak I was. Then he would fade way, somehow disapearing into the impass he called home. How did he survive? I would glass and glass looking for him. To me, he simply vanished, not to be seen again until the next morn. He was probably laughing at me, as I struggled to climb as high as he.
Deer too embarrassed me, and so did an owl. I remember bringing better gear each year I came, trying to tame this place, but could not. The deer were the same. Each year running down the slope it took me an hour to climb. They would run down it, stop, survey, bound across the creek and then bound up the other hill like it was nothing. Maybe take all of three minutes. I would try to take chase, but what is the point? I learned; here you sit and wait. Climb if you want. But to find a good place, sit and wait. This is how we hunted above the cabin.
The water began to get a bit more angry, the wind a bit more forceful. The sky was clear, but you could not see the wind. As we gained on the lake, as we plowed our way up the lake, my dad was careful to watch the oil pressure, the water temp, all the gauges. He taught me this well. He was very careful going up lake. Waves were big enough that spray was coming up, infront of the bow and out the sides each wave. Whitecaps now, Womp, womp, womp, the waves were nonstop. I was busying myself, wathcing the gear move around on the floor the whole trip. Trying to watch the hill for a glint of antler, or a tail flicker. Sort of hard to spot a deer as you plow uplake, but it has been done.
Ten miles or so from the state park, it happened. We were plowing uplake, into the wind, cutting thru wave after wave after wave, when all of the sudden, my dad cut the throttle. I remember looking up, thinking what's wrong? My dad staring out the front glass, looking face first into an 8 foot wave. I am guessing that this wave was eight foot tall. The boat plowed bow first into the wave, the tip of our bow plunging straight into the wave about half way up. At least four feet of water slammed over the bow, into the glass, and came crashing down onto the canopy and over. We took a huge amount of water completely over the canopy and into the boat, soaking everthing and everybody. Amazingly the motor did not get swamped. We immediatley turned on the bilge pump and started ditching the water and added weight. Many an expletive was shared. Eyes were as big as fried eggs. A wave a big as a house had just appeared out of nowhere and unannounced. If we had been in an open bow boat, I am convinced I would not be writing this. Needless to say, the rest of the trip uplake was taken with even more scrutiny. When the fire was finally lit, and the cabin warm, I remember reflecting on the incident in silence. It is truly amazing the power that nature has. We tread upon the earth as thought we own it, yet, in reality, she owns us. Take care friend.
