The Evils of Slave Cylinders

Nov. 15, 1970, Monday, continued
Old Oatus just rolled merrily along today, without breakdowns or other disasters to distract us. We made it to Garberville early in the afternoon and took on fuel. Oatus took 14 gallons after roughly 75 miles of traveling; the Family Dog took two bucks' worth. Mostly we just trucked today, watching the countryside slide past at 30 m.p.h. That's flank speed for us.
The sun came out, attended by healthy white clouds, and the shadows began to lengthen when we passed through Eureka and Arcata. Finally we sought a berth for the night at Patrick's Point, 15 miles south of Orick. It's one of Governor Reagan's State Park Blasphemies which requires hard coin and demands that all animals be locked up or otherwise restrained.
Poor Nigel Woofer took to the leash with total dismay, having sat on his tail all day with me in the Family Dog. He was looking forward to a good romp and I know he feels double crossed, poor lad.
But the place has showers.
One last note: it appears as though Oatus needs another water pump and it stands to reason that the best possibility for locating one is in Crescent City. The question is: can we make it? Stay tuned.
Nov. 16, Tuesday - HAH! Ruddy water pump is shot. I went off to find a Park Ranger for information on available junkyards. McKinleyville has several, he said.
Chris hopped into the Family Dog and zipped off to the south in search of another pump while I stayed aboard in order to slap another coat of exterior stain on Oatus's Port & Starboard side, since the weather has decided to clear.
At 16:00, Chris returned with a $4.50 dead replica of our latest casualty and got to work immediately installing it. So. We're trapped on Patrick's Point 'til tomorrow. However if all goes well, tomorrow night will find us in Oregon!
Nov. 17, Wednesday – The sun never did come up this morning – the fog just got brighter and a drizzle started up, drifting in through the trees as softly ans silently as snow.
Finishing up the water pump didn't take long. By 10:30 Oatus was up and running again so we got underway and started moving out of the park. I got to the main gate and pulled over to wait for Oatus.
Oatus however failed to arrive so I backtracked until I finally found him about 300 yards from our original berth. Chris was covered with leaves and debris from crawling about underneath the truck and was in an ugly mood.
Who could blame him? The slave cylinder to the back tires, starboard side, had blown a leak, destroying the hydraulic continuity of Oatus's brakes!
Chris and Oatus aren't speaking.
I got underneath with our flimsy screw jack and somehow managed to get the tires of the ground; then split for McKinleyville to locate a 15/16” socket for the lug bolts.
The rest of the day was spent tearing the whole works apart. As usual, a million miles' worth of dirt and debris had accumulated and gotten into the works. The piston in the cylinder was dirty and sticking.
By dark, everything was reassembled and apparently operable so we decided to get out of the park before we got charged another night's rent. I hear the Oregon State Parks are free. Good news if it's true.
We tied up for the night on a frontage road on the east side of Highway 101.
Well, if one slave cylinder is fouled by dirt and the like, what's a body to think about the other'n? HA HA! Tomorrow we operate on the other'n, just to find out.

Oatus Gets Noticed

Nov. 15, 1970 Mon.
Sleep seemed to be denied me, what with all the trucks thundering up and down Hwy. 101 all night. At 05:00 the local garbage truck visited Gribaldo's restaurant next door with many a crash and clatter.
Enough! I got up and built a fire. No visibility outside. All is dark and moist. Red neon signs diffuse their colors in the fog like a drop of blood in a puddle.
Gribaldo's restaurant opened at 06:00 but it wasn't until after dawn that the breakfast crowd began to notice Oatus. It was obvious that we had become Gribaldo's morning conversation piece but no one looked too pleased.
Who could blame them?
By 08:30 no one had yet appeared to open the Tire Shop so we decided to go ashore and meet with the natives, poor things. Having seen the ship, they would now meet the crew, which was hungry.
We had no sooner seated ourselves when the Tire People showed up to open the shop. They were in a mood to be of as little help as possible. Only one tire was available in Oatus's shoe size and it went for $33.00.
While Chris dealt with the Tire Shop people I had breakfast, which was advertised on the menu as “Four Pieces of French Toast” for ninety-five cents. It turned out to be two pieces sliced diagonally.
At 10:00 we finally rolled out of town, the wrong way unfortunately. We got turned around in our bearings somehow and found ourselves mysteriously headed back for San Francisco, a terrible setback considering the effort it has taken us just to get this far! A quick about-face (military terminology for a 180-degree turn) and we were on our way out of town once again, this time for good!
Old Oatus just rolled merrily along today, without breakdowns or other disasters to distract us. We made it to Garberville early in the afternoon and took on fuel. Oatus took 14 gallons after roughly 75 miles of traveling; the Family Dog took two bucks' worth.
Mostly we just trucked today, watching the countryside slide past at 30 m.p.h. That's flank speed for us.
The sun came out, attended by healthy white clouds and the shadows began to lengthen when we passed through Eureka and Arcata. Finally we sought a berth for the night at Patrick's point, 15 miles south of Orick. It's one of Governor Reagan's State Park Blasphemies which requires hard coin and demands that all animals be locked up or otherwise restrained.
Poor Nigel Woofer took to the leash with total dismay, having sat on his tail all day with me in the Family Dog. He was looking forward to a good romp and I know he feels double crossed, poor lad.
~ But the place has showers!
One last note: it appears as though Oatus needs another water pump and it stands to reason that the best possibility for locating one is in Crescent City. The question is: can we make it?
Stay tuned!

Nov. 16, 1970 Tuesday
HAH! Ruddy water pump is shot! I went off to find a Park Ranger for information on available junkyards. McKinleyville has several, he said.
Chris hopped into the Family Dog and zipped off to the south in search of another pump while I stayed aboard in order to slap another coat of exterior stain on Oatus's Port & Starboard side, since the weather has decided to clear.
At 16:00, Chris returned with a $4.50 dead replica of our latest casualty and got to work immediately installing it. So! We're trapped on Patrick's Point 'til tomorrow. However if all goes well, tomorrow night will find us in Oregon!

Oatus is Resurrected; Granny's Poodle Passes On

Nov. 12, 1970 Friday
Well, whatever it was that Everett didn't accomplish last night surely was seen to this morning which broke fine and fair with a fragrant chill over the cypress tree behind the truck which Chris and I use for a toilet, as the need arises.
Chris rented a tap wrench set to re-thread the bolt holes and went to work! Tomorrow we will rent a torque wrench when the whole works goes back together. We have this wonderful Rent-All store down the street that has everything in the world you could possibly wish for and at a very reasonable price.
But ~ all our efforts were postponed once again when Granny's little pregnant white poodle died this evening! In an effort to try to save the pups Chris cut her open but she had been dead too long. Apparently one of the pups died in utero perhaps a week ago and this brought about a case of peritonitis.

Nov. 13, Sat.
After I buried the poodle this morning, we set to work wrapping everything up. By afternoon Oatus was operational and the new port bulkhead was finished and stained.
~ And, thank God, we got to go take another sauna before tomorrow's departure!

Nov. 14, Sun.
Granny and Paw did a nice thing for Chris's birthday with a card and a new undershirt for him this morning. What wonderful people! They've been nothing but good to us.
At 12:30 we took in our moorings and got underway. That was some port call! Now here we are, pulling out, with our new friends waving handkerchiefs behind us. If only we had Oatus's rigging up so we could have flown flags! Goodbye all for now.
The weather has gone foul on us again. We have decided on advice from our friends to change our course and head for Willits rather than fight with steep mountain roads on Highway 1 north of Fort Bragg.
Thirty-two miles is about two hours worth of Oatus travel, counting mechanical interruption which occurred about midway. The glass float jar fell of the carburetor and Oatus went D.B.R. (Dead Beside the Road) immediately. We procured some stout cord from the Bos'n's locker and lashed the little devil in place. Off once again!
We made Port Willits by 15:30 and stopped to take on provisions and fuel. We also discovered the starboard front tire is split and will have to go! Naturally there is only one truck tire shop in town and they're closed on Sundays. We found the place and tied up for the night out back to wait for Monday to arrive.
The police however arrived first at about 21:30 and checked us out extensively from the pier. Fortunately no one asked to come aboard and they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

In Port in Ft. Bragg

Part 3: Noses Run; Water Does Not

Nov. 5, 1970 Fri.
After breakfast, two fellows by the name of Allen and John came by from the Albion Ridge Ranch, which I guess must be down around where we thought Felix jumped ship. They too spoke of engines and left saying they would return with more information.
When we left to find Brian and his truck, we discovered roads (or perhaps ruts is more accurate) far too impassible for Oatus's bulk. When we finally located his truck, there was no one home so we followed a path down to the bottom of a ravine and up the other side where we found an abandoned chicken ranch to explore.
Later in the afternoon another of Granny's many friends dropped by to use Everett's truck to haul a load of trash to the dump. Butch was his name and at the moment he is a candle maker by trade.
By way of another trade, we learned of another engine that was being housed at present in an old 1952 Plymouth that was quietly returning to the soil on his property. If we worked fast we might be able to rescue it before it disappeared altogether. We made a date for tomorrow.

Nov. 6, Sat.
Man, the weather has been low and wet lately! For some reason, my own system has been closely approximating the conditions of my sign, which is Air (I'm a Gemini); for some reason all the air in the area is heavily congested. Wheeze~!
Late in the morning Butch came by; we loaded tools, batteries, and Nigel the dog, and sputtered off to visit the old Plymouth.
The land is truly good here; Autumn has nipped into these hills quite nicely. Butch's property is blessed with an old Gravenstein apple orchard and I happily munched on a few while wandering about in the rain.
We were too late to help the old engine (which offered no response at all) so Butch built a fire out back and began melting candle wax in a big cauldron. We drank tea, ate fruit, helped put wicks in 140 quarter-sized candles, and departed with a glow.
Chris and I got back to the Red Shanty just in time to go take a sauna with Everett, Berta, and Unkie, a great relief for us Trucknics! We've been growing progressively smellier for a week now. This is the only way to get clean in Fort Bragg at the moment since the whole town is on water hours. I thought I left this sort of thing behind when I got out of the Navy!
Perhaps the people who operate the sauna also run the local water system. Theirs is the only place in town that has water and the whole town is lined up to bathe on a weekly schedule, at $1.50 a pop! What a sweet deal! Everett, Berta and Unkie's time slot is on Saturday, from 7:30 to 8:00 p.m.; not only did they get us admitted as their guests, they also paid our way!
I think they wanted to be sure that we wouldn't miss out on an opportunity to clean up and in their kind, tactful way, decided to go ahead and foot the bill in case we didn't happen to have the gate fee. Since we have no way of knowing how long we will be their guests, this probably amounted to an investment in their peace of mind and was therefore well worth the money! As I noted earlier, we've been growing progressively smellier for a week now.

Nov. 7 Sun.
Today we thought to recuperate some. My raging head cold has opened a branch office in Chris's head and he awoke this morning snuffling, spewing and snorting. We got a fire going and kept to our bunks, attending to our individual afflictions.
Not for long though! Granny came out and enlisted our aid in picking up an old freezer over at somebody's house. We ended up doing it mostly by ourselves and with effort and resolve managed to drag the damned thing back to the Shanty in one piece; then it was back to the truck to chase continuing drips in the roof; also the nose.
Because it's Sunday and telephone rates are low, I called my folks to let them know we are in port for repairs. That's the news for today.

Part 4: Wild Turkey and the Supreme Being

Nov. 8, 1970 Mon.
Chris has undertaken to clean and repair an ancient Underwood typewriter of Granny's and I to paint that rusty old freezer that we trucked over here yesterday.
Still nothing in the engineering department! John drove in this morning from Albion Ridge and reported that for all his searching, he was unable to locate anything that would meet Oatus's needs.
Chris called a friend of his in Indiana last night; as a result, today there are two checks over at Western Union totaling $166!! This evening I called Lou Hightower in Seattle to tell him we would be berthed here in Fort Bragg for awhile. He said that he had received a check for $97, made out to me from the Navy and forwarded to him by dear Mrs. Rogers back in Forest Knolls. Lou reassured me that our future berth is awaiting our arrival and rang off, promising to post the check in the morning. Bless him! Now we can pay the Salmis back for the sauna!

Nov. 10, Wed.
Well, absolutely no engines to be had in this area to meet any of our specifications so jolly well fix we must our present old flathead 6 banger! This means pulling the head and tapping the one stripped hole plus drilling the broken bolt out of the other one. While Chris is doing this, I will be putting up new siding and rendering the existing Wardroom window operable, watertight, and pretty. We received the check today so we're pretty fat for a change!

Nov. 11, Thurs.
It's good to be working on old Oatus again! The siding I installed today was a 4' x 8' piece of exterior plywood that has been taking up quite a bit of space while in storage below decks. The extra room now available is groovish!
After cursing and coaxing the two busted bolts out and replacing the blown head gasket,Chris said that we could probably be ready to get underway by tomorrow night if we wished. Road fever is setting in again!
Not that we are eager to leave our new friends, you understand; especially when it's so obvious that they are so concerned for our well-being. For example, tonight Everett decided to convince us of the power of the Supreme Being! Imagine our dismay as we realized that he felt we were dangerously unenlightened concerning this holy entity!
With great zeal, plus a half bottle of Wild Turkey, he took us out into the front yard to instruct us and demonstrate to us the power of the Supreme Being by having Him part the clouds and banish the rain from the skies. The time for our redemption and salvation had come and Everett had decided to be the Instrument of our conversion!
Lucky us! We stood our there freezing our butts off for nearly an hour while Everett pleaded with the Supreme Being and implored Him to part the clouds so that we might be inspired to believe!
This was not our idea of inspiration but finally a brief hole appeared in the thick cloud cover and gave us a quick glimpse of the full moon and a few glittering stars. Thankfully, this was satisfactory to Everett and we were then able to conclude our little weather tryst.