SEPTEMBER 23, 2018
ROCKWELL
KENT WILDERNESS CENTENNIAL JOURNAL
100
YEARS LATER
by Doug
Capra © 2018
September
23, 2018
MAY THE WATERS OF RESURRECTION BAY
CARESS THEIR BONES
Rockwell Kent II: 1882-1918 and his
son, Rockwell Kent III: 1909-1918
by Doug Capra
Part I
NOTE – This is an
expanded version of the article that first appeared
in the Spring 2005 issue of The Kent Collector
After waiting for several stormy days on Fox
Island while watching mail steamships heading to Seward, Kent and Rockie rowed to
town on Wednesday, Sept. 18, 1918. On the way, the two were almost
swamped off Caines Head while trying to pick up their finicky Evinrude engine
which was being repaired. Noting the high
surf on shore, Kent wisely decided not to attempted a landing. “After leaving there we almost got into
difficulties,” he wrote, “in a shoal where the seas were breaking. Before we knew it, we were in the trough of
them. I wasn’t much concerned and pulled
out all right.” On shore, the man hired to fix Kent’s engine watched
anxiously. In Seward while waiting for
his mail, Kent met the man and he told the artist that their dory had “nearly
capsized twice.” That experience should
have been a warning, but Kent didn’t seem to see the event as too serious.
“There is certainly a nasty chop in this bay when the wind blows,” he noted.
After
reading their mail, writing letters to send out on the steamships, and
socializing, Kent and his son left Seward on Tuesday, Sept. 24th. When
they awoke that morning, it looked like a good day for the trip. But just as
they pushed off at 10:45 a.m., Kent wrote, “the sun retired for the day and a
fine and persistent mist began to fall. Including his and Rocky’s weight, Kent
would carry up to 1000 pounds on some trips. On this September adventure, Kent
was loaded with “two large boxes of groceries, fifty-nine pounds of turnips, a
stove, five lengths of stovepipe, a box of wood panels, two hundred feet one
inch by two inch strips, suit case, snowshoes, and a few odd parcels.” Often
Kent and Rocky would have to sit on top of their supplies as they rowed – and
row they did, for their finicky engine was still being repaired.
After
rowing three miles, a local hunter and fisherman – probably George Hogg -- took
them in tow to his camp on the east side of the bay where they had tea and
talked until 2:15 p.m. Big mistake. When
there’s a break in the weather, a window for travel, you take advantage of it.
They left Hogg’s camp to rain, mixed seas and fierce squalls as the Kents
headed west across the bay probably toward Humpy Cove. “Over the water the wind blew in furious
squalls,” Kent wrote, “raising a surge of white caps and a dangerous chop.”
By all rights, you should be almost finished with this
book, assuming it would ever have been written. The Kent’s story should have
ended in Alaska – if not at Yakutat then certainly on Sept. 28, 1918 in
Resurrection Bay
Maybe he should have died lobster fishing off Monhegan
Island. That’s a risky business. He
didn’t spend much time in a small boat at sea in Newfoundland. Still, he’s lucky someone at Brigis didn’t
knock him off for his “practical jokes” and political insensitivity. He could
have easily drowned during his Tierra del Fuego adventure a few years after
Alaska – but by all rights, he was extremely lucky to even live that long.
Anyone with common sense, who has either read Wilderness
or knows Resurrection Bay in winter, cringes while reading Kent’s cavalier
attitude: “They strike me as needlessly timid about the sea here,” he wrote, “continually
talking about frightful currents and winds in a way that seems incredible to me
and would, I think, to a New England fisherman.” In my play about Kent, “And
Now the World Again”, I use literary license to have Olson respond to Kent’s inane
comment with, “To Hell with your New England fisherman.” In reality, I don’t
know what Olson said, but I’m sure he responded and probably with more colorful
and profane language. And with respect to New England (or Alaskan) fisherman, I
disagree with Kent. No prudent
professional fisherman in New England or Alaska, then or now, is ever
“needlessly timid” about the sea – at least the ones who live to see 30.
In fairness to Kent, after he made that unwise
comment, he did add: “However, I must be cautious. Olson says that in the winter for weeks at a
time it has been impossible to make the trip to Seward.” But then he adds
another unwise remark: “We’ll, I’ll believe it when I try it and get stuck.” In
my play, Olson mutters to himself, “Damn fool!”
By rights, you shouldn’t be reading this – and I
should have had no reason to get this far. Rockwell Kent, and eight-year-old
Rocky, should have died on Tuesday, September 28, 1918. Those of us who know
Resurrection Bay, know exactly how weather and sea conditions can change
rapidly, especially in the fall. Storms
bring squalls with four to six- foot chops and winds bounce off mountains and
race down hanging valleys. Seas are
mixed, meaning waves seem to be coming from every direction making it difficult
to choose a safe course. “I was now
rowing with all my strength,” Kent wrote, “foreseeing clearly the possibility
of disaster for us, scanning with concern the terrible leeward shore and its
line of breakers and steep cliffs.”
Mike Brittain, a friend and professional mariner from
Seward who has motored and sailed these waters for more than forty years, knows
what Kent was up against. He surmises
that after his tea break at Caines Head, Kent left shore directly into an easterly
wind whipping down from both Thumb and Humpy Cove on the east of the bay. If he headed on an angle toward Fox Island,
he was in danger of broaching as the wind hit him broadside on his port. His only choice, says Brittain, was to head
directly across the bay right into the wind.
As Kent
rowed northeast, he faced southwest and watched the huge breakers smash against the
shore. Add to this the strength of an ebbing tide which would carry both father
and son out to sea unless they turned and rowed with all their strength at just
the right point. Resurrection Bay was
“fairly seething under the advancing squalls,” Kent wrote. Combine the tides
with the changing prevailing winds that time of year, shifting from south to north
– and Kent could easily have been blown out to sea.
A year
before he and Rocky arrived in Alaska, W.A.C. Nelson arrived in Seward late on
Saturday, Dec. 10, 1917 in his gas boat, the Seward Gateway reported five days later. He had left Seldovia on
Dec. 4 with six passengers and experienced “all kinds of weather, including
fog.” In good weather, he could have made it to Seward in a day. This trip took
him four days to get to the entrance to Resurrection Bay and then two days to
make it the fifteen or so miles to Seward. At one point, he was blown eighty
miles out to sea.
“The spray
was whipped into vapor and the caldron boiled,” Kent wrote. “I bent my back to the oars and put every
ounce of strength into holding my own with the gale. It was a terrible moment for I saw clearly
the alternative of continuing and winning our fight.” The alternative was a
cold death. If they were lucky, as they capsized the shock of the cold would
cause them to inhale salt water and drown relatively quickly. With less luck,
they would flounder in the freezing water for as long as they could keep afloat
– which wouldn’t be long. Resurrection Bay is an estuary – where fresh and salt
water meet. Three branches of Resurrection River, Fourth of July, Tonsina and
other smaller creeks fill bay with silt. Their clothing would quickly absorb
that silt making them heavier and dragging them down.
Rocky rowed
manfully, Kent wrote, and only rarely grasped the danger of their situation.
That’s not true. I discussed this trip with Rockie a few years before he died.
He had vivid recollections of that trip and told me he was frightened to death
but didn’t want to show that fear to his father. What frightened him even more
was that – although Kent tried to cover it -- Rockie could see the fear in his
father’s eyes and hear it in his voice. The boy reverted to small talk:
“Father,” he shouted while rowing, “when I wake up in the morning sometimes I
pretend my toes are asleep, and I make my big toe sit up first because he’s the
father toe.” Kent may have nodded and told him to row. “You know,” Rockie
added. “I want to be a sailor so I’ll learn not to be afraid.” In less than a
month he’d turn nine years old. Both he and his father may have wondered
whether they'd both live that long.
Once across
the bay Kent faced a north wind at his stern as he headed along the west side
of the north headland of Fox Island. (See the red line on the chart) Off to his
port there was no place to land. The trick was to make the turn into his cove at
the right moment so he wouldn’t be carried out to sea. As he made that turn Kent
found himself in serious trouble. Strong wind and waves at your back tend to
exaggerate a turn either way. As Kent
turned to port, the north wind behind him hit his port side toward the stern
and pushed him bow first toward the rocks. (See the blue line on the chart)
That north wind hits the southern headland of his small cove and swings back
around the beach. (See blue line again) As the north wind reversed his dory
around and faced it toward the rocks the south wind then pushed him into the
cliffs. “It was a minute before we could straighten our boat into the wind and
pull away...” They did straighten out and made it Fox Island’s pebbly beach.
Olson had seen them enter the cove and no doubt stood anxious on the shore by
his windless ready to assist them and haul their dory far up the beach – which
he did.
That last
four miles from somewhere along Caines Head to Fox Island, took them at least
three, maybe four hours. Mike Brittain estimates Kent was making less than one
knot an hour. That was good progress, for under those conditions with the tide,
currents and north wind, they might have made no forward progress at all. That
night a gale blew. “And that night in their bed,” Kent wrote, “Rockwell and his
father put their arms tight about each other without telling why they did
it.” Did he learn a lesson from getting
caught in that dangerous storm? The fact
that he includes a vivid description of the event in Wilderness and ends it with he and his son hugging each other in bed
that night makes it clear he realized how close they both came to death. By
December 28, as Olson made serious preparations for a trip to Seward, Kent
wrote: “It’s no insignificant voyage to Seward in the winter.” It is also quite significant that I can find no mention of this event in any of Kent's letters. Kathleen was worried enough about Rockie without having to read about this experience. I often wonder how she felt as she read the story in Wilderness, especially since...
Kent had originally considered having his whole family come with him to Alaska as he had
during his second Newfoundland trip. Then he opted for Kathleen, and later
Hildegarde. I can’t imagine a trip like this with Kent, his four children and
Kathleen – or Hildegarde. Kent traditionally took his women on camping trips to
places like New Hampshire and they loved it. Resurrection Bay in winter is no place for a camping trip.
While
on Fox Island, Kent was writing to both his wife Kathleen and Hildegarde. He was hoping one or the other would join him
-- perhaps both. On Sept. 19, 1918 he
wrote to Hildegarde: “Bring hardly any good clothes. On our island there’s only old Olson who’ll
expect nothing of you but to cook and mend.” I’m sure Hildegarde was delighted
to learn of her duties. The day before
Kent left Seward on that perilous Fox Island row – On Sept. 23rd –
he wrote to Hildegarde that he was waiting for a steamer to arrive with his
mail. As soon as it arrived he and
Rockie would embark on “that long wearisome pull over the miles of water” back
to Fox Island. “I’ve thought often how
sturdily you could come to row with practice,” he assured his amour. “Then you and Rockwell taking turns would be
the greatest help, -- my strong limbed sweetheart.” Apparently, Kent was
willing to provide Hildegarde with all the practice she needed. In a letter
from Yakutat, Kent had urged Hildegard to join him but told her she’d have to
pay for the trip herself, and it would be expensive. It was up to her, Kent
wrote, and he would understand if she couldn’t afford it.
Kathleen
knew what it was like to be on an adventure with her husband. She had suffered
through Newfoundland -- cooking, mending, taking care of the children, nursing
them through the whopping cough -- while Kent was off painting or irritating
the locals. Hildegarde, I believe, was
beginning to see the light as well. Kent had wanted her to move in with him in
New York but she insisted on keeping her own apartment. Best keep her
independence. She and Kathleen were close in age, and Hildegarde perhaps saw
her future with Kent in his wife’s situation. The artists’ letters to
Hildegarde from Alaska were clear about her role in the adventure. On a good day, a one-way row to or from Fox
Island took Kent at least four hours.
Young Rockwell had developed blisters early on. In addition to cooking, mending and rowing,
I’m sure Kent would also have had Hildegarde helping to chop wood to feed his
two stoves. And when Olson was gone, she could also take care of the fox and
goats, a job Kent hated.
Part
2 tomorrow, Sept. 24, 2018
PHOTOS
Kent
and his son on the Fox Island beach with their dory, minus the engine. Kent family album photo.
Kent’s
Chart of Resurrection Bay showing his regular route to Fox Island and the one
he probably took on Sept. 24, 1918. The yellow line shows the route he took on
a fair-weather day. The red line shows what probably happened on Sept. 24th.
He most likely started crossing the bay toward Humpy Cove because of the north
wind and the tide. He didn’t want to be blown out into the Gulf of Alaska
before he could make his turn into the Fox Island cove. The blue line shows how
the north wind hits the southern headland of his cove and reverses itself to
the south.
NOAA
nautical chart 16682 of a portion of Resurrection Bay.
4.
Mike
Brittain
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