The Dory

The Dory

By Dale Ghere

September 26, 2005

When I came to Laguna in 1960 one of the new skills that I developed was rowing a dory. I didn’t get into dories just so I could row. No, the reason I wanted to learn to use a dory was because it gave me another method of collecting food. There have always been other guards who rowed dories, but for them the rowing was the major reason for being on the water. Some of the other guards I have known liked to row up and down the coast, several have been willing to put out the effort to cross the channel between here and Catalina and many have rowed in competition. Paul Schilling was commended by the Santa Ana Sheriff’s Department for his effort to help save lives during the 1938 floods. I have taken a few long trips in a dory and I have rowed in competition a few times. I have gone out far enough that I thought that I should take along a compass to make sure I could get back home. On one Easter vacation I took my family to Lake Mead and rowed along the shoreline for a week. We would pull into a lonely cove each afternoon and would sleep under the boat when it rained. It was a great adventure. I have hauled my dories to lakes and swamps as far away as Montana, Nevada, Utah and Arizona. But in all of these adventures the reason to take the dory was to give access to the water so I could fish. This has always been my major focus for rowing.

I probably would never have thought about using a dory if there had not been one on the Main Beach. The dory I started with was a heavy wooden boat that took a lot of effort to get it in the water. I don’t remember who the boat actually belonged to, but it was available to anyone who wanted to use it. Strangely enough I was about the only one that used it during that first summer. There was a motor available to go along with the boat, but that was too much bother for me. I was sure I could get what I wanted without using a motor. From the start I don’t remember getting in the dory without a fishing pole.

If the boat had not been at Main Beach I would probably have just spent more time diving. Certainly there were plenty of things to pick up while free diving; abs, lobsters and a variety of tasty fish could be taken at many locations along the coast. Bass were in the kelp beds, hallies could be found under the sand in relatively shallow water and when the surf was low corvina were easy to collect as they darted in and out of the shore break. Cockles were easy to come by from Trestles to Sano, scallops could be found and Pismo clams were abundant from Newport to Huntington Beach. In 1960 Crown Valley Road was just a dirt track leading to the valleys and grain fields beyond. Long before I became a lifeguard I knew how to hunt. The valleys and hillsides abounded with dove, quail, rabbits and deer. I really never needed to get in the water to be able to get enough food for a meal. I found Laguna and the surrounding countryside like some kind of a free market place where I could always collect something for dinner. For me the dory just opened up another source of food. I could see fish in the water almost daily. Fish boils and birds working over schools of bait were common sights from my tower at St. Ann’s. These were strong motivators for me to become a competent dory man.

One of the admonitions that were given to me by the chief of the Lifeguard Department, Art Fisette was, “If you are not being asked home for dinner by the locals on your beach you are doing something wrong.” I took this idea to heart and did what I could to follow his instructions. It didn’t take very long to learn that a halibut shot in the morning could be turned into an entire meal by the end of the day if I was willing to give it away. Bonita could be transformed into tomorrows smoked fish for lunch and a few rabbits shot before work could be turned into fried rabbit and gravy by any number of local mothers. Life was good and the dory just expanded my horizon.

Some days the fishing was so good I could invite all of the guards and their dates to Heisler Park for an evening barbeque. I would supply the fish and salad. Somebody would go to a local bakery to get day old bread and someone else would bring a dressing. Everyone supplied their own drink. At the end of summer this concept was maximized by what we called the Lifeguard Luau. The best years for me were when almost all of the food was provided by the guards. Lobster for the salad, raw and cook abs, fresh fish of all kinds, pig roasted under the sand, smoked fish and shark were all cooked to perfection. Add to that rice, corn on the cob and all the fresh fruit you could eat and it made for a very special party. I would have never known about this kind of life if I had not become a beach lifeguard.

Right from the start I was much more interested in trolling than in bait fishing. I had been fishing my whole life, but I had only been in a boat a few times. When I was three or four years old my father started taking me with him when he went fishing off of the piers and jetties along the coast from Newport to Long Beach. Sometimes we would fish in the shoreline or the back bay area behind Tin Can Beach; now known as Bolsa Chica State Beach. I was in my early teens before he took me out to the barge that was anchored off of Seal Beach. The three or four trips that we took to the barge were my sole boating experiences in the ocean before I came to Laguna. Because of all my Boy Scout activities I had been in a few row boats or canoes in lakes. Fortunately I had been surfing for a couple of years before I tried launching a dory. My surfing experience at least gave me a good understanding of wave structure and timing. When I started rowing the dory I wanted to be moving, I wasn’t interested in just drifting and bait fishing.

Dean Westgaard was my mentor and encourager right from the start. I was fortunate to have him around to teach me how to get the dory launched safely. A major lesson I learned from him came in a brief saying that he repeated often, “Don’t turn an adventure into a hardship”. That phrase has stuck with me for forty five years. His advice was simple. Don’t try to launch a dory when the surf is up. Eat something from the freezer or go hunting would be his thinking. Neither one of us ever thought about going to the store to buy meat. Dean knew better than anyone how to collect food from all parts of the environment. For him timing was as important as skill. Pick the best time and you will gain the greatest opportunity. I have used his advice in many situations in my life.

Dean got me started in the dory. Dave Pyle got me started catching fish. I was fortunate to meet Dave on my first fishing adventure that summer. I had launched from Main Beach and Dave had rowed out of Woods Cove. I had purchased some kind of lure from Leonard Brockman at Sports World, but I could not get a single strike even though I could see fish all around me. As I rowed south past Second Reef I could see Dave catch several fish and still I could not get a strike. I finally rowed over and asked him what he was using. He showed me a feather jig and I showed him what I had tied on to my line. He suggested that I throw mine away as he tossed me one of his jigs. In no time at all I had caught several Bonita and was on my way back to Main Beach. I was a fisherman. Yea!

The next day I sought Dave out on the beach and that was the start of a long and wonderful friendship. We spent many a day talking about fishing and boating techniques. He taught me how to control the depth of the jig by adjusting the weight of the jig, the speed of the dory or the amount of line that was let off of the reel. He discussed how to work around the kelp and reefs. He was the first person to tell me about kelp patties; where to find them and how productive they could be. Because of him, my choice of jig became either a red and white or blue and white feather jig. Sometimes I included a yellow and green combination. As the years went by I did switch to a chromed spoon called a Pet. It was heavy and had a single hook. I tried to use it behind a motorboat once. It twisted the line so badly that I had to throw the line away. However, when this lure was pulled at rowing speed it wobbled just right. I caught hundreds of Bonita, mackerel, barracuda, bass and yellowtail with a Pet. The advantage to the Pet was that it worked well without any feathers. Feathers were fine, but they were torn off by the sharp teeth of the fish that I caught. The Pet jigs never wore out. I still have several of them.

Dave’s system for fishing was simple, fish where the fish are and use a proven jig. Dave only fished when he could see fish. He was not up for just rowing out and wandering around the ocean until he happened to come across something. He was like Dean, timing was everything.

One of Dave’s best tips was to make sure that everything is always tied to the boat. His warning was, “No matter how much you think you know what you are doing there will still be the day when something goes wrong and you will find your equipment going over board.” Fortunately I have heeded that advice. More than once I have been able to retrieve equipment that had gone overboard because it was tied to a rope. I almost lost Marla once because she lifted the pole out of the holder and the fish we had hooked was big enough it started to pull her overboard. She wouldn’t let go of the pole so I grabbed her and let this fish pull the pole out of her hands. After I got her seated again I could retrieve the pole because I had been secured it with a rope, thanks Dave. The fish turned out to be a nine pound calico.

I guess that I should admit that I did try to surf fish for a while. I got to know two locals who were very successful at this type of fishing. Gail Brazil, who owned a bait and tackle shop on Coast Hwy. between St Ann’s St. and Cleo, and Ted Covern, a long time resident of Laguna, were the two most productive fishermen I met. When the conditions were right either one of these men could catch a whole gunny sack full of fish. I really tried to learn this type of fishing. I used little freshwater rigs to work the surf; I switched to long poles so I could cast far outside. I tried any bait that was suggested, but I just never became a good surf fisherman. I don’t remember any lifeguards that even tried to become surf fishermen.

Some people are just better fisherman than everyone else. When sales were slow in the tackle shop Gail would often come down to the beach at St. Ann’s and catch a few fish. He was never really after the fish because he always let them go. He was after a fisherman or at least someone who thought he would like to become a fisherman. Gail would come down with a little spinning rig and catch fish until some guy would get up off of the sand and start talking to him. The talking usually didn’t last very long. Shortly I would watch both of them walk up the stairs together. Just like clock work, I could depend on seeing the stranger come back down the stairs about a half hour later. He would have a new spinning outfit in his hand and would go right to work trying to catch a fish. Seldom were any of them successful. Gail was a great fisherman. He could catch both fish and fishermen from the beach.

I didn’t catch all of the fish that I brought home. Several summers during the 60s and 70s there were gill net fishermen who set nets all along the coast of Laguna. I got to know several of these men quite well. Often I would talk with them while they were picking up their nets. I was amazed to see some of the things that they would haul up. Huge White Sea Bass was their prize catch, but yellowtail, bass, halibut and a variety of sharks were commonly mixed in with their catch. I found that they were willing to trade some of my canned goods for their fresh fish. Marilyn and I did a lot of canning in those years. It was common for us to put up a year’s supply of jams, canned fruits and syrups each summer. By the time we were done the cupboards would be full of things made from apricots, nectarines and plums. A couple of years we even canned watermelon rinds. Some years we canned beans, tomatoes, and squash. All of this made good trading material with the local gill net fishermen. Then the laws that controlled gill nets changed and that was the end of gill netting in Laguna.

The first few summers I had use of boats that were kept at the Main Beach. Then I was given a boat that I kept anchored outside the surf line between Main and Sleepy Hollow. Steve Foster and I went together to purchase a used motor. We caught a lot of fish from that boat the summer we had it. The boat was eventually stolen and I never replaced it because I didn’t like running around with a motor that made so much noise. Besides that there wasn’t much to do when you use a motor. I didn’t like just sitting there going putt, putt, putt around the ocean. It was always strange to me how I would not row without taking a pole, but I was not really just after the fish. If fish were the goal then I would have stayed with some kind of motor boat. There was always something special about going down to the beach and launching the dory in the first light of morning. Especially on days when the water was glassy and the surf was so small that I could get a running start down the berm and time it so I could jump in the back of the dory just as I reached the water. Then as I got myself seated the dory would glide beyond the breaker line. When everything went just as it should it was a nice feeling. I was truly happy to be alone in the dory, skimming across the water, listening to the blades cut through the water and looking for boils. It was gratifying to me to hear the rubbing of the oarlocks and to watch the trails left in the water as the spoons were moved back into position for the next stroke. It was a lot of hard work yet at the same time it was relaxing. Rowing allowed a time of aloneness that I have always needed in my life. The ocean provided a whole different feeling and awareness of my environment that was not possible to experience on land or in a classroom. Being outside has always been important to both Marilyn and me. I guess that is why our family vacations, teaching field studies, lifeguarding, Boy Scouts, surfing and hunting have been so important to me.

I bought my first dory in about 1966 and kept one on the beach some where until the early 90’s. Finding places where I could keep a dory on the beach was not always easy. I started on the Main Beach, next I moved to the open space just south of the Hotel Laguna and then I moved to Woods Cove. When Kim Seaman was rowing with me I kept the boat in his grandmother’s garage. Her beautiful rock house is still located at the corner of Flora and Glenneyre Street. Storing the dory away from the beach was a lot of work because we had to put the boat on the van to get it to the water. Being able to talk to his grandmother made all the effort worth it. One day I asked her, “What is your most memorable family vacation as a child?” “Oh that is easy”, she said. “It was the time my father took us to Yosemite on the stage coach.” She had lots of other stories about her and her husband mining in the Sierras and hunting waterfowl in the Owens Valley. After grandma Seaman’s place I spent a few years in Irvine Cove and finally I wound up in Boat Canyon.

The first dory I owned was made in Santa Barbara and could be rowed as a single or as a double if both people were my size or smaller. It was a great little craft and required zero upkeep. It was made entirely of fiberglass. Wash the blood out of the boat, wash off the oarlocks and everything was ready to go. I purchased a pair of used spooned oars for that boat. It was a great set up for me and as Ryan got old enough to row it was the first boat he used. I did not think of it at the time, but the oars I had purchased were almost cut into by someone putting nails in the leather oar saver on each oar.

I found out how compromised the shaft of the oar was after a long day of chasing fish. I had gone out early and rowed straight out for two hours before I spotted the first birds working over a school of bait. During the next few hours I caught several yellowtail. On the way back to the beach I was more than satisfied with the trip. As I got near the surf line I picked up the pace in order to glide in behind a set of waves. As I made the final stroke one of the oars snapped. Fortunately I was in shallow water and could just jump out of the boat and pull it to the sand. When I looked at the break it was clear why the shaft had broken. The circle of nails had cut the cedar oar almost completely apart. The shaft had only about an inch of good wood in the center of the oar. To replace those oars I bought a pair of wooden oars with straight blades. They were not nearly as much fun to use as the spooned oars. Eventually someone suggested that I find a broken pole vault pole and put the spoons into the fiberglass poles. The oars I produced worked well and I used them for more than twenty years. I gave those oars to Craig Parsons when he attended the 2004 lifeguard reunion.

Sometime, probably in the early 70s, I gave a key to my dory to Craig Parsons and Kim Seaman. I told them they could use my dory any time they wanted to. I think that they were about 13 or 14 at the time. They were both very good waterman and could take care of themselves even at that age. I would often see them row by with a boat load of fish they had caught.

Several years later, the two of them spotted a Hobie Cat floating upside down about a mile off of the beach. They ran down to Woods Cove and got my dory and rowed out to fetch the catamaran. There was a strong wind blowing so by the time they got back to the beach they were at Aliso Creek. They then took the Hobie home and left my dory on the beach. They planned to return to Aliso and row my dory back to Woods. Good plan, poor execution. When they got back to beach my dory was gone. They called me and told me about losing my boat. I knew that was a possibility when I gave them the key so I was not all that upset. They apologized and hung up. A few days later they called again to let me know that they had put another dory on the boat rack at Woods. It was not the same kind of boat, but they thought it was a good boat. That is how I came by my second dory, a single Shock Dory. I was always impressed that the two kids didn’t make any excuses or complain. They just went out and found another boat to replace the one they had lost. That dory lasted until the early 90’s.

Fortunately Craig and Kim did eventually find another boat like the one they lost. They took that boat and made a mold from it and went on to make boats for themselves. They each have one today. I think that mold is with Lew “Punky” Parlette. They both brought their boats to Woods Cove the day after the 2004 lifeguard reunion. It was a day filled with good memories for me. I wrote a story about that afternoon called, “A Forty Year Flashback”. That was the day I gave the spooned oars to Craig.

One morning when Ryan was about four he asked me if he could go fishing with me. I explained to him how tipsy the boat could feel and I asked him if he thought that he could handle it. He assured me that he could. When we got down to the beach I went over the all of the steps and how it would feel when I launched the boat. I stressed over and over how important it would be that he must stay seated on the floor of the dory. He kept saying that he would not move. We practiced all of the moves up on the dry sand. I wobbled the boat and showed him how I would have to step over him to get to my seat. Repetition and awareness are both good teaching techniques, we were ready --- so I thought.

Everything went well until I pushed us into the water and lifted my foot off of the sand. We should have made the perfect launch. But just as I had predicted, as soon as I tried to step in the boat it tipped. Ryan stood right up, I was off balance and over we went. Fortunately the surf was small. Unfortunately Ryan wound up under the boat and because of the suction I could not lift the boat up to retrieve him. We were in a couple of feet of water so I reached under the gunnels and felt around until I found his hair. One quick jerk and he was free. There was no crying or yelling. He just said, “I’m sorry dad.” By the time I collected the oars and got the boat back up on the beach he was ready to go home.

After that I tried to get Ryan to go again, without luck. He was quite sure he didn’t want to go in the dory again. Yet he was always there when I brought fish home. I knew he wanted to go, but the first experience was just too much for him to overcome.

Two or three years later, on a rainy Saturday morning, Ryan came into our bedroom and asked if we could go fishing in the dory. I really didn’t want to go, but I was not about to let the opportunity slip away. I knew he must have been thinking a lot about going and this was his time to face the fear and do it anyway. We quickly gathered the oars and pole and headed to Woods Cove.

Once again we went through all of the steps and talked about what to expect. This time he would be a little older, this time he had had time to think about his past experience, this time he would be more coordinated, perhaps this time we would be more successful. I knew that this time I would not let him flip the boat, no matter what he did. I would be more ready. Everything went perfect. We were through the surf and heading out of the cove in a single smooth glide. As I pulled on the oars Ryan moved to his seat and we both began to smile.

By the time we were in the water the rain had stopped and the sun was warm and bright. The wind had dropped to nothing so the water was as smooth as glass. As I pulled on the oars I began the chant from Moby Dick, “Pull boys, pull. Pull on those oars boys …” Ryan joined in and we rounded the point and headed south. I still don’t know why I chose to go south that morning. I seldom went that direction. My normal path was to head directly for Second Reef and then I would go north from there. I didn’t know it yet, but this was going to be a special morning in more ways than I had anticipated.

As we cleared Moss Point I heard a power boat push down on the throttle. The sound drew our attention as the boat began to plow through the water with an angry roar. It was far outside and headed north so it was of no danger to us. As we watched the boat speed away a whale came straight up out of the water. It was directly between us and the speeding boat and less than a hundred yards away. The great beast came out of the water by half of its length. It fell over with a huge splash.

Ryan knew what a whale was. I had read the story of Moby Dick to him many times. The first time he heard it I sat in his crib and read while he went to sleep. Ryan could not believe what he had just seen. He had to reassure himself that he was not wrong by asking me, “Did you see that whale?” I affirmed his observation as the whale surfaced again and headed south. Ryan picked up on the chant again and suggested we chase the whale. I think he thought we could catch up with it like the whalers did in the story. We managed to spot the whale several more times, but each sighting was further away and eventually it was gone. We circled around and headed north. Ryan caught a couple of fish for dinner and then we hurried home to tell Marilyn and Marla about the whale. After that trip Ryan seldom missed an opportunity to go in the dory. It has always been days like that one that let me know how truly blessed I am.

When Ryan was ten I started allowing him to take the dory out alone. I picked the days and that limited him to the very smallest of surf. I needed to help him get the dory in the water and at first I still did the timing for launching and coming back through the surf. As he gained more experience I let him make the call as to when to go and would only correct him if I could see that he was in danger of getting hurt. We had a few close calls with this learning method, but he never dumped the boat, never broke an oar and never lost anything overboard. By the time he was twelve he was becoming a good dory man. Marilyn and I went to the Towers Restaurant to have breakfast and enjoy a bible study with Storm and Shirley Case during the 70s. A few times during these years I let Ryan fish outside of Second Reef while we were in the Towers. I felt comfortable with this because I could keep a eye on him while he was off on his own adventure. In those days breakfast could be purchased for a $1.35. We usually got the corner window table because we were there so early. Linen on the table and great service, those mornings were a treat for everyone.

One trip could have turned out to be a real nightmare. Ryan had asked if he could go rowing while Marilyn and I went to breakfast and I had approved the request. When we got up the conditions were as good as I had anticipated; glassy, small surf and a few birds working outside of the reef. The conditions were so good and I was becoming so confident in Ryan’s ability that I didn’t even put on a bathing suit. Shorts would do just fine. All I thought I would have to do was to help him slide the dory across the sand and then help push him out. The routine was getting simple.

The launch was perfect and I stood there for a moment enjoying watching my son learn something I knew no other kid in town, his age, could do. As I backed up the beach, he went around the point and disappeared as he headed north from the cove. I turned and walked up the stairs to join Marilyn. As I neared the top of the stairs I felt a strong wind come from behind me. I turned around and could not believe what had happened in the space of just a few minutes. It was no longer a calm and placid morning. The wind was building and it was already forming whitecaps.

I sprinted back down the steps and raced out to the blowhole. I could see Ryan struggling against the wind. He was still trying to go north, but the wind was pushing him south. There was no way to get to him. There was no way to advice him. He was on his own. I knew that if he didn’t turn and head for the cove soon it would be too late. If he did not make the right decision he would be pushed past the point where he could get back to the cove. Then he would have to face a long shoreline of rocky cliffs before he would get to Victoria Beach. There the surf would be larger and different from anything he had been in before. I knew there was no sense in me yelling, he was too far out. There was no sense in me jumping in the water either because the wind was blowing him faster than I could swim. He was on his own. He would have to make a decision and I would have to adjust to his decision. As I waited I started to back towards the stairs. Another hundred yards and it would be too late. As I turned to go up the stairs Ryan turned and headed for the cove. It was going to be okay. It would still be sketchy for him. The timing for the landing with the wind break that had developed would create many new problems. All went well and I caught the bow as he jumped out of the boat. Home again; safe and sound.

Fortunately we had spent a lot of time talking about making decisions. We had done this while hunting and camping together. My early lifeguard training had included a lot of discussions about making good decisions during training and then to practice those ideas. This allowed a proper response to be made during an emergency situation. When Ryan went with me on Field Ecology trips he had heard me talk to my students about making good decisions and reacting at the right time. I was always talking about this when we were rowing together. The foundation of these discussions was probably based as far back as my Boy Scout training days (BE PREPARED), but the more recent foundation was still from Dean and Dave. Make a good decision at the right time to gain the greatest opportunity. This is a good lesson to learn and to put into practice. I could see that Ryan was beginning to develop this skill and I was satisfied.

By the time Ryan was fourteen he was launching the boat with Jeff McMichael and the two of them were chasing fish together. This was the period following the 1978 Bluebird Canyon landslide. Because our house was destroyed in the slide I had to build a new house. I had very little time for going out in the dory for about three years. This has always left me with some sorrow because those were the years when Marla should have had her chance to learn to row. She had gone out with me when she was younger and for some reason we always caught the biggest fish when she went along. About the time I was getting to the point where I started rowing again Marla started tennis, swimming, surfing and bike riding. She had plenty of things to do so rowing never became a big part of her life. She did buy a kayak and paddled along the local coast for a few years. Because of Dirk’s influence she is spending a lot of time these days renewing her surfing skills.

Today I do not have a dory. Someone felt that he needed my dory more than I needed it. I have not bothered to replace the stolen boat because the fish are gone and I am not into rowing just to row. I have often considered getting a kayak. It would be easier to store, to transport on vacations and would get me back in the water. For whatever reason, I have not followed through with this idea.

Now that Ryan has a house on Oak Street he is beginning to think about getting a boat. This idea will develop as his boys get bigger. I know that he has many fond memories associated with the dory and he will search for ways to pass that experience on to his boys. We will see what happens as they become more experienced watermen.

Matthew just called and told me that he went surfing with his dad at Thalia Street. Now that he is five this has been his summer to begin to grow as a waterman: first, he started to swim in the high school pool, next he got his feet off of the bottom at the beach, then he caught a few waves on his boogie board, after that he ducked under some pretty good size waves in the shore break by himself and today he took his first strokes on a surfboard. This has been a good summer for Matthew.

Marla and Dirk have built a home near the water in San Clemente. Ryan and Tiffani are here in town. Marilyn and I remain in Bluebird Canyon. I am truly satisfied with the life we have developed here in Laguna Beach. Becoming a lifeguard in Laguna Beach set me on a path I had never anticipated while growing up in Pico Rivera.