They call me Griz

In the early 1990s, I took a year off from Boeing, Trish & I went cruising on WaterBrother (our 37' live-aboard sailboat). We left Seattle in March thinking we would spend most of the summer in the Queen Charlotte Islands (by September, we were a little over half way up west coast of Vancouver Island and turned south for home). Note: Going north, we did only short hops (from inlet to inlet) of open ocean travel, mostly motoring in calm sunny weather. Going home we made 3 leaps (75, 150 and 25 miles) of very windy sailing. A lot of work but invigurating.

~~~ Fulfillment is in the journey - not the destination. ~~~

Midsummer, we were anchored in a small cove, about 10 miles up an inlet on the west coast of Vancouver Island (we had been there a week and had not seen another person or boat in 5 days). That morning, we gathered oysters for lunch and caught rockfish for dinner (did not find any of the sea lettuce we loved to eat). After lunch, we were relaxing in the cockpit, both almost nude, enjoying a beautiful day on the water, surrounded by massive old-growth cedars, watching a Marbled Murrelet gorge on fish he had herded into a ball.

A 16' aluminum skiff appeared with an ancient native (First Nations person) sitting in the bow and a young buck manning the outboard. They came alongside WaterBrother. The kid grabbed our gunwale (gunnel) as the old man fended off with one hand and offered me his bow line with the other. I tossed the kid a bumper and dropped another between WaterBrother and the skiff bow. After they were tied up, the old man looked me directly in the eye and said, "Grizzly Adams, I presume?". I responded, "And you must be Tonto". The kid snickered. The old man glared at him (which instantly quenched the snicker), then he glared up at me for a long moment (making me very uncomfortable) before breaking into a big grin.

We spent the afternoon discussing resource management (logging, fishing, hunting, mining, etc.) and numerous other subjects. He would not come aboard or take anything except water. One of the most interesting afternoons of my life. He told me his name and clan (tribe?) but I could not pronounce or remember them. As they were pulling away, the kid half whispered to me, "He's our most revered elder".

From that day forward, Trish called me Griz, and soon all our acquaintances (outside Boeing) were doing the same.