Dealing With Ashes

When a loved one dies, it's quite possible you might end up being asked to deal with their cremated remains. Apparently 44% of the people in the U.S. will be cremated this year. 

We put my mother's ashes into the Pacific 5 years ago, from the foredeck of Jason. Just 10 feet from where I am sitting now. 

My friend Steve (who was on the boat that day) just went to San Felipe, Mexico and sprinkled his uncle Robert Louis Hansen into the water on what would have been his 92nd birthday. 

So it wasn't a great surprise when my brother mentioned that he had some ashes to dispose of, and could we help?

I asked, "Whose?" 

"It's Al" Brian replied (his dad, my step-dad). 

To which I countered, "But Brian, he's been gone at least 6 years!" 

"Wrong. It's been almost 8 years..."

[If you ever have the chance to see a play called "Leaving Iowa," see it. It deals with Ash Procrastination.]

So, after an hour of preparation, we lowered Jason's dinghy and set off. 

I must mention that Brian asked for a salt water service. Al was in the Merchant Marines, and it didn't seem right to leave him in a lake. But we didn't exactly have a rough water vessel.  

Luckily we just had to leave Salmon Bay and go around to Discovery Park. Unluckily, the Ballard Locks are in the way. They would drop and lift us the 12+ feet to sea level. 

This historic facility passes thousands of boats a month from salt-to-fresh water and back. 

We waited 20 minutes in a line of boats, then slipped into the lock as directed, next to a crew of Sea Scouts and a ski boat filled with beer-guzzling ruffians. We were by far the smallest watercraft in the lock. 

We were lowered to sea level and charged out of the lock and around the point to Discovery Park. We had a few quiet moments, shared some appropriate thoughts, and lowered Al's ashes into the water. Brian had brought some white roses too. 

On the way back, Brian pointed out Anthony's HomePort restaurant, sister to Chinook's where he works.  I said "Why not stop for lunch?"

Knowing we could get a meal, no matter what, we coasted into a tiny bay, jumped out, and clambered up the rocks, much to the amazement of other diners and the waiters. 

We didn't get a sunny patio seat but sat just inside. All the restaurant staff came by to say hello to my brother and the crazy folks accompanying him. 

Oyster po'boy with cole slaw

We had a nice lunch made even more pleasant by the friendly service and Brian's employee discount. 

Hopping back into our inflatable craft, we went back to the lock, watched a train go over our heads, and were instructed to tie onto a police boat. 

They had 900 horsepower and a 20,000 lb. vessel, while we had 9 hp for 200 lbs. That sounds about even -- multiply both sides by 100... add the payloads -- we are a 200 lb boat with say, 650 lbs. -- forget it; they're faster!

Rather than go straight home, we foolishly took a detour down the ship canal, where tour boat run by Argosy (ignoring the No Wake rule) half swamped us just off the Lakeside Industries Fremont asphalt plant. 

We pulled over to a public ramp, walked over to Fred Meyer for gelato, then putted home. Damp, sunburnt, and delighted with ourselves.