Miss Marine Operator
Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 10:57 pm
There was a faint glow enamating through the sight glass on the old dickinson stove, the oil burning away, heating up the galley on a friends vessel I was boat sitting on in the late 80's. A fresh cup of coffee, reading light, good book and that faint aroma known as essence-of-bilge set the scene for a relaxing winter evening. In the background was the VHF, set on Ch 16, a rare hailing call breaking the silence. One such voice was the that of the Lena Point marine operator, nearly always a womans voice calling into the night for the vessel of request. Long before satellite TV or decent radio reception, at times the marine operator channels could provide a respite to the doldrums. This particular winter found a pleasant sounding Lena Point operator calling out for a vessel of which the name caused me to inhale my coffee down the wrong pipe due to a burst of laughter. It went something like this, there was no snicker or hesitation on her part as she called out "Lena Point Marine Operator calling the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, switch and answer to two five, twenty five please. And again and again, just as calm and sweet she repeated the same call to no avail. Throughout that winter Lena Point would occasionaly call out to this vessel of which rumor had was an old gillnetter out of Haines. Alway gave pause for a good chuckle.
Ratz Mountain, channel 26 was just a name, I really had no idea where it really was. All I knew was that once a month we were "allowed" to call out to that marine operator to hopefully connect to a real voice of meaning. It was a respite from the yelling of boss that had a bad case of the piles and his "wife" who screeeched at the crew much to same as fingernails raking down a chalkboard. We were working about 50 or so miles N.E. of Ketchikan in the early 80's, our only contact to the real world was what the float plane pilots would give forth as they heaved, and we caught, the freight being unloaded for our operation. The owner felt for "morale purposes" that he could squeek out a few pennies for us to make that call. "3 minutes" he'd say "or I'll cut the power". The radio, located in an old shed that leaked rain and had the accompaning roar of a hillside notch blasting water near its inner wall added to this acoustic adventure. We were nothing less than indentured servents, toiling away for $300 a month, 12 to 18 hrs per day non-stop (we were frequently reminded that room and board was provided by the owners) Finish the contract and the airfare home was covered, quit early; pay for a charter flight and everything else. So Ratz Mountain gave us 3 minutes of sanity, a mountain we all held in high regards. One particular operator I do believe was somehow aware of our situation and was always most kind and helpful in making that connection go through. The darkest month we had as a crew was when our alloted day arrived and the site was down for repairs.
"Man I just love to hear her voice" said a young buck logger working at Hanus Bay. He went into intense detail of the what I believe may have been an electronic produced voice of the Manely Marine Operator, channel 24, as the call was signed off. It was a voice that had a European sounding accent, all she (or it) said was "Manely Marine Operator clear". This voice and these four words sent this poor kid into a lather every time: "did ya hear that!! Man I'd like to meet her sometime!!" and so forth he'd go. The kid was far from home, on a barge camp that had precisely 2 women on scene to about 60 guys. One lady was the siderods wife, the other was the spouse of the bullbuck, two guys you did not want to cross in any way shape or form. I was working for the Feds and this poor kid was soon after us for maps of the area. I pulled out a USGS quad of the area and he asked, "where's the Manely Marine Operator site located on here?" Come to find out he thought on his off time on Sundays he'd pay this sweet voice on the airwaves a visit. Had to break it to him hard about relay towers and a place far away in Juneau where these operators were really stationed. Didn't seem to faze him a bit, every night he'd park an old crummy on a precise spot on a precise logging road that gave the only shot to the Manelyville tower. He'd call the marine operator to place a call to a non-existant number just to hear that ending voice of "Manely Marine Operator clear" I think the poor kid took a shot from a choker bell one too many times in the past, he was happy but certainly had a few staples in the wires as we say.
So the marine operators are gone, my 2009 tidebook is the first one I have that no longer lists their long gone VHF channels. While technology has wound its way into our lives, at times I must admit I miss those voices calling out over the airwaves. To only hear the one side of the conversation only added to the guessing game of what must have really been said. Babies born, deaths announced, marriage proposals, debt collectors, seductive codes, tirades, laughs, sobs and much more filled the airwaves. Where else could one hear a couple starting out okay, arguement ensue, divorce, silence, pleading, re-marriage and near consumation all in the span of about 5 minutes? Happened while transiting Chatham Straits during my wheel watch. Maybe someday they'll write a book about those who were the operators, the window of our world they must have seen and heard. To their credit they provided a life line to those of us on sea and land, far from home, 24/7 without prejudice or want. "This is the Lena Point Operator calling the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, switch and answer to two five, twenty five.........Thanks operators, the airwaves just haven't been the same since you've gone.
Eric Van Cise, F/V New Hope, Sitka
Ratz Mountain, channel 26 was just a name, I really had no idea where it really was. All I knew was that once a month we were "allowed" to call out to that marine operator to hopefully connect to a real voice of meaning. It was a respite from the yelling of boss that had a bad case of the piles and his "wife" who screeeched at the crew much to same as fingernails raking down a chalkboard. We were working about 50 or so miles N.E. of Ketchikan in the early 80's, our only contact to the real world was what the float plane pilots would give forth as they heaved, and we caught, the freight being unloaded for our operation. The owner felt for "morale purposes" that he could squeek out a few pennies for us to make that call. "3 minutes" he'd say "or I'll cut the power". The radio, located in an old shed that leaked rain and had the accompaning roar of a hillside notch blasting water near its inner wall added to this acoustic adventure. We were nothing less than indentured servents, toiling away for $300 a month, 12 to 18 hrs per day non-stop (we were frequently reminded that room and board was provided by the owners) Finish the contract and the airfare home was covered, quit early; pay for a charter flight and everything else. So Ratz Mountain gave us 3 minutes of sanity, a mountain we all held in high regards. One particular operator I do believe was somehow aware of our situation and was always most kind and helpful in making that connection go through. The darkest month we had as a crew was when our alloted day arrived and the site was down for repairs.
"Man I just love to hear her voice" said a young buck logger working at Hanus Bay. He went into intense detail of the what I believe may have been an electronic produced voice of the Manely Marine Operator, channel 24, as the call was signed off. It was a voice that had a European sounding accent, all she (or it) said was "Manely Marine Operator clear". This voice and these four words sent this poor kid into a lather every time: "did ya hear that!! Man I'd like to meet her sometime!!" and so forth he'd go. The kid was far from home, on a barge camp that had precisely 2 women on scene to about 60 guys. One lady was the siderods wife, the other was the spouse of the bullbuck, two guys you did not want to cross in any way shape or form. I was working for the Feds and this poor kid was soon after us for maps of the area. I pulled out a USGS quad of the area and he asked, "where's the Manely Marine Operator site located on here?" Come to find out he thought on his off time on Sundays he'd pay this sweet voice on the airwaves a visit. Had to break it to him hard about relay towers and a place far away in Juneau where these operators were really stationed. Didn't seem to faze him a bit, every night he'd park an old crummy on a precise spot on a precise logging road that gave the only shot to the Manelyville tower. He'd call the marine operator to place a call to a non-existant number just to hear that ending voice of "Manely Marine Operator clear" I think the poor kid took a shot from a choker bell one too many times in the past, he was happy but certainly had a few staples in the wires as we say.
So the marine operators are gone, my 2009 tidebook is the first one I have that no longer lists their long gone VHF channels. While technology has wound its way into our lives, at times I must admit I miss those voices calling out over the airwaves. To only hear the one side of the conversation only added to the guessing game of what must have really been said. Babies born, deaths announced, marriage proposals, debt collectors, seductive codes, tirades, laughs, sobs and much more filled the airwaves. Where else could one hear a couple starting out okay, arguement ensue, divorce, silence, pleading, re-marriage and near consumation all in the span of about 5 minutes? Happened while transiting Chatham Straits during my wheel watch. Maybe someday they'll write a book about those who were the operators, the window of our world they must have seen and heard. To their credit they provided a life line to those of us on sea and land, far from home, 24/7 without prejudice or want. "This is the Lena Point Operator calling the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, the Flying Sphincter, switch and answer to two five, twenty five.........Thanks operators, the airwaves just haven't been the same since you've gone.
Eric Van Cise, F/V New Hope, Sitka