The Freeze Up

As I remember it.

 This one particular year (’78 I think it was) the ice, moving up the bay shifted sharp’s Island Lighthouse on her foundation. To this day, every trip I make up or down the bay, when I see that cockeyed lighthouse, I think about those times. That was as cold as I have ever been before or since! The old men said that nor wester(the relentless north west wind) was so cold , “it’a cut your eye winkers off!

 Earlier that same winter , before the really hard freeze , we hauled out dad’s boat to nail stainless steel sheathing around her waterline to protect the wooden hull from ice. Sometimes I think back on nailing those nails into the grid laid out on the metal. The nails were too small to hold with gloved hands so we would work barehanded for a while and then have to stop and warm our hands again. Those were some long cold days!

Dad and I were returning to port one afternoon, breaking the thin “windowpane” ice that had been forming.  Let’s just say you haven’t lived until you’ve tried breaking ice in a wooden boat. Of course by now you will have heard all the stories of boats being cut open or stove in after running through ice.

  We were sitting in the warm cabin, next to the kerosene heater . Suddenly a rat jumped off the stern of the boat and went skittering across the ice. I turned and asked dad “ what is it they always say about rats leaving a sinking ship?” We laughed over that story for many years.

Later in the winter, the ice was about eighteen to twenty four inches thick all over the bay. The oyster business was brought to full stop. All of our wooden work boats and all the skipjacks were ice bound and locked in the harbor , no wooden boat could ever force her way through that!

There was nothing we could do but check on the boats every day, shovel the snow out of the cargo hold warm the engines and thaw out the bilge pumps.

There was a marine supply store there, near the main dock on the island. Fuel and supplies were on hand and the watermen would always congregate there during the early mornings or during times of bad weather. This was one of those times.

The men unable to go out and tong for oysters were all gathered around. There were benches and chairs set up in the main part of the store, gallons of coffee were drunk and a thick pall of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

It was then those old men started with their stories, about how they took their old Model T Fords out on the ice and pulled oyster dredges so they could make a living. Of course, a least according to them, the weather was much colder and the ice much thicker than it is now.

That’s all it took for us younger watermen, we couldn’t be out done by those old men! Some of the guys went out and found some old junk cars that would still run. They cut off doors and fenders in order to reduce weight. Dredges, rope, chainsaws and axes appeared and several crews were formed.

We set out to the nearest oyster bar and went to work. It wasn’t long before two Marine Police officers showed up to make us stop. Using a dredge (hand scrape we called it) in these waters was illegal! The officers announced from the beach that we were to stop dredging immediately. We all knew these officers and they knew us, we all respected each other’s position.

One of the guys asked “Well, what if we don’t stop?” The officers replied “well I guess we’ll have to arrest all of you.” Everyone laughed; there were only two officers and about fifty or sixty of us! Of course they knew that we were only trying to make a living. The next day the state made an emergency ruling that we could in fact continue dredging.

The crew I was with didn’t take the time to find a car, at first, we thought we could heave all that  gear and the oysters in a wooden skiff we had.We soon found that was way too heavy. My  dad volunteered his old 66 Chevy Pick Up. Towing the skiff and all our gear behind us went out onto the bay and got to work. We were about a mile offshore.

Everything went great and we caught quite a few bushels of oysters. Deciding we’d had enough for one day we loaded up and started back for shore. Two guys riding in the truck and the loaded skiff towing along behind. The rest of us walk-stumbled across the rough saltwater ice toward the shore.

Suddenly the truck dug into the ice diving headlong into the frigid water. The guy on the passenger side was able to jump clear but the driver was trapped and started to go down with the truck! He went up to his waist when one of the guys grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up and out.

All of us shed some of our clothes to try to get him warmed up. We still had the skiff and all of our gear and the oysters. We slowly made our way back to shore pulling the skiff and all our gear. It was a tough, brutal few hours until we made it back to the landing.

After we sold the oysters and divvied up the money, we all chipped in to pay dad for his truck, at the end of the day I think we all cleared about four dollars! That was the end of my dredging on the ice.

PART II – THE ICE BEGINS TO BREAK UP

Later in the spring as the ice was beginning to break up we were finally able to get out and start tonging again. The state tug boat “ Big Lou” had broken a track through the ice for us so we could go to work. Several boats had made it out to a nearby oyster bar and we went to work. Most of the boats had three or four guys aboard so everyone could make a little money. No one had worked and times were tight.

The wind breezed up and began to blow hard out of the south. The ice began to move and soon jammed all the boats together and with a relentless force began to crush and grind on the wooden hulls.

My uncle’s boat, the “Miss Mattaponi” was holed and began sinking. We were alongside and able to take all the crew and some of his gear aboard with us.

We called for help hoping  that the “Big Lou” could turn around and reach us in time.

The “Big Lou” made it to us. Her crew put a large pump on the “Miss Mattaponi” and took her in tow. All of the other boats fell in behind for the harrowing trip back to the narrows.

Large chunks of ice, kicked up by the tug would wash back and slam into us. Some smaller pieces would float up under  under  the unprotected wood hull, gouging into the bottom planking or grinding through propeller blades.

 Many homes and businesses had marine radios and could listen as the near disaster unfolded. Finally as we made it safely ashore it seemed the whole island had turned out to meet us.

 I would like to note here , during all this –those Captains knew their wives and families would hear their conversations. Of course there was some urgency in their request for help, but there was no fear or panic in their voices.

It was the following year and another brutally cold winter, we lost the Hay Russ IV with 5 men aboard the owner and captain, Garland Phillips was my cousin. All the men aboard were related. Tilghman’s Island was at that time a small close knit  community.

The Hay Russ IV was a brand new fiberglass boat designed to work the Chesapeake Bay. That winter they were gillnetting out in the bay when she was lost. It was a sad time for all the families on the island. I was working on tug boats at that time. The Captain called me up to the Pilothouse to inform me of the sinking.

I was aboard a tug when the Claud Somers Sank off Hooper’s Island . We were towing out of the Nanticoke River , Bound for North Carolina. We could see lights off to the West and we could hear the coast guard on the VHF Radio mounting a rescue and recovery operation. 

Sadly those fellows, the entire crew, was lost to the Chesapeake Bay. I never knew the guys personally but their loss was keenly felt by all of who make their living from the bay.

Captain Joe Phillips

Aboard S/V Tarry Not

Gwynn Island VA