Some parts of my life experience...by Canuck
The Drew Foss
It was 1997 and I was at loose ends.
My small construction service business in Kelowna, BC had faded away, the victim
of too much competition forcing below cost pricing.
It had been an experience. It had given me a focus, a base for a relocation from my birth province, a reunion with my sister and her family, a job with my son,
a home in the most beautiful province in Canada.
Now I was free to engage in any activity I could afford.
The husband of my niece suggested I meet with the owner of a boat-trailer manufacturing company. His was a two employee company on Vancouver Island in a rented
hanger at the International Airport near Sidney. We met for breakfast in a restaurant near the airport and I was hired with a reasonable salary and if I so chose, a place to live aboard his sea-going wooden tugboat, the Drew Foss. This tugboat was moored alongside a quay within view of the main BC Ferry Teminal on Vancouver Island.
I had always wondered what it would be like to live aboard a floating vessel, in
fact I had looked into floating homes at one time. A large raft supported on huge styrene blocks have homes built upon them and they remain tied to a dock. There are no taxes payable since they are not fixed to land, you pay a rental fee
to the owner of the quay. They are comfortable with electric and water services and large sewage holding tanks that are allowed to be pumped overboard from time to time when away from land or pumped into sewage holding tanks for transport
to a municipal waste treatment facility. I would still like to consider this living accommodation option.
My first sight of the Drew Foss came as I and my new employer-landlord walked towards the end of the quay to which it was roped. It is a classic tugboat, about
40 foot long by 16 foot wide, with high wheelhouse just back of a upward-swept,
rope and bumper encumbered bow; a great smoke-stack just aft of the curved, glassed wheelhouse, and a low, windowed, rectangular living quarters amidships. The
rear deck, about one third of the overall length of the boat, was low and had a
great iron bollard for the towline that all tugs require.
She did not rock as we boarded, evidence of her low centre of gravity. We stepped over a high ledge and through a small wood door into a narrow corridor. The
head (toilet) doorway was directly opposite this entrance. I was reminded of a story I read about another tug owned by Foss Marine where the cook, who was in the head washing up prior to beginning his duties was thrown out the washroom door
, through the hatch to the outside and over the railing into the sea when his boat struck a shoal in dense fog. He was seen and saved only to die from exposure
within a few days. In the next few months I often would sit on "the throne" (toilet) with the door ajar and watch the waves and seabirds through the open hatchway which, by the way, faced away from the dockside.
As I passed through this entranceway I could turn left, where my choice was to either climb 4 steps up into the wheelhouse or to carefully climb down a ladder hung on the walls into the hold where my kitchen and alternate sleeping accommodations were or turn right and enter my roomy bedroom. The below-decks kitchen contained a fuel-oil stove, table, refrigeration unit and sink. The kitchen opened
directly into the bow where two bunks were set for extra sleeping accommodations. I slept in there only once to see how it felt but the on-deck bedroom was much more comfortable with fresh air and sunlight. Another hatchway in this kitchen opened upon a ladder that could take me down into the engine room. That was a
place of fuel-oil and dampness, of grease and electrical wiring, of gauges, valves, piping and insulation. I would go down from time to time out of curiosity
to try to understand the intricacies of diesel engine, pumps, gauges and storage
tanks.
Back up at the entrance companionway, if I immediately turned right on entering
I would be in my bedroom, large and airy, bright and clean. Another small door could take me directly out of this sleeping-living area onto the tug boat’s rear
deck. This was to become my usual entrance to my home.
As the months passed I found that my favorite place was the wheelhouse. It had
a large comfortable chair in front of the wooden-spoke wheel and a 360degree view of the marina and sea. My habit was to cook my simple meal and take it to the
wheelhouse to eat. Also I would write my diary there as I listened for interesting reports on the marine wireless radio set.
There was a telephone connection inside a weatherproof electric service box on the quay alongside the Drew Foss but how to run a cable aboard a floating boat?..
..this was solved by me purchasing a cordless telephone and leaving the base unit connected up and inside this sheltered box. The portable unit, battery-powered was aboard. Every few days I would exchange my batteries for recharged ones.
It worked quite well, having a telephone at my hand wherever I went while aboard.
…to be continued
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