THE
WIND AND GARY YOUNG. Anyway,
it turned out that Gary was a real genius in the area of of small engine
repair, and I had been having some weird problems with the 25 horse
Johnson I had pushing my sixteen-ft. Fischer Marine johnboat. It would
randomly and unaccountably cut out and stop dead, refusing to start
again without a great deal of fiddling around. (my style of mechanics).
So I asked Gary if he'd see if he could uncover the mystery of my motor's
unreliability. Just
after his usual chores were finished on this very hot late June afternoon
he had my boat tied up to Walt's main dock and worked and tinkered on
the motor almost until dark. But getting nowhere he decided to leave
the boat tied there so he could continue his work the next day. I agreed
that would be fine. So the boat was left stern end out and lightly tethered
to the dock by ropes at either end. I
might add here that there was no sand beach there, Walt had rip rapped
the shore with heavy stones and chunks of concrete to prevent erosion,
because on a stiff northwest wind, waves could travel more than five
miles before they hit shore, and by that time a high wind could create
some monster-big waves. Very few fishermen launched their boats into
that high northwest wind. Well,
at about two in the morning the north door of the lodge was blown open
by a huge gust of wind. I had been sleeping down stairs on the couch
where we had air conditioning. It had been very hot and very muggy.
But the second that door blew open, I realized, ”My God, the boat,
it could get really smashed up on those rocks.” Dressed in a flash,
I hopped in the car and headed for the dock. On the way down I said
this make shift prayer, Lord don't let my boat get wrecked, quiet down
that wind.” When
I reached the dock, who should I find down there wrestling with the
bow rope, which had broken off but Gary Young. The wind had blown his
door open too and had blown an empty coke can clattering across his
floor. His reaction? “My God, the boat!” So he had run down
to the boat on foot and was out there wrestling to get the bow turned
into the wind so the boat wouldn't swamp, but with that wind I saw in
a flash that that wouldn't be possible. The only way we can save it
is to sink it. That was an instant revelation. So while he held the
line I hopped into the boat, pulled the drain plug and began putting
contents up on the dock: two tackle boxes, a cooler, seat cushions all
the usual stuff, and out of nowhere three girls from one of the cabins
were there helping carry stuff up on the shore. In about five minutes
we had the boat, motor and all, safely sunk below the coming waves.
The I realized something else: all the while we were working to stabilize
the boat there was a strange calmness just in the area of the dock,
as soon as the boat was safely sunk, the wind picked up again blowing
literally like it was coming out of hell. We
thanked the girls for helping and then I told Gary, “There isn't
much more we can do now, I”m going back to bed.” See you
in the morning, said Gary. And here's what astonished me as I came down
to the resort parking lot at about 9:00 a.m. There, sitting out alongside
the dock as if nothing had happened was my boat and the motor was idling
and there was Gary. “Good Lord, how in the heck did you manage
to get it back up floating?” It
took some coaxing and a little heavy lifting and a heck of a lot of
bailing, but I did it. I put your boat in jeopardy, I figured I better
set it right. And I got lucky with the motor. It hadn't been running
so there wasn't any water in the cylinders. I don't know what I did
to make it start: I just pulled the rope and it started right up.” “ What
do you think about last night? That was some weird kind of a wind.“
I said. “I
think we got some help from God. Walt said this morning that quite a
few boats got blown right off their lifts. And that there was a lot
of damage to boat docks and shoreline property. Somehow I think the
good Lord was smiling on us.” I
was so grateful to Gary for all his help I gave him a hundred bucks
flat out. And later I hired him to do some work on and around the lodge.
He had pretty much quit drinking He said he'd gotten born again when
he was at the mission and that it had changed his whole life. That
fall we made a trip over to Pillager to see Beauty Lake and one of the
trails we usually took to walk through the woods was completely blocked
by dozens of blown-down trees. That same devil wind that hit Hartford
Beach had come all the way from northern Minnesota, leaving devastation
in its wake all the way. I haven't seen Gary Young since that summer,
but he was a real blessing on the docks. By the way we later discovered
the problem with my motor, a defective kill switch. Wadya know? Kill
the switch that kills and you'll have life. Gene
Pinkney - 2/ 24/ 20 - For the Daily News edited html update 08-13-2021
Back in the late 80's down at
Hartford Beach, the resort owner, Walt Albrecht, hired a handyman by
the name of Gary Young to do chores and odd jobs around the resort.
Gary was a very interesting guy. Walt hired him out of a mission in
the Milbank area, a place of restoration for young people with personal
problems, and Gary had come through some tough times because of alcohol.
