A Step Back in Time

08 Jun A Step Back in Time

Written by Patrick Connor

Part of my family history has been finding weird boats all throughout my life. When someone looked at a boat and saw something ugly, we looked at it and saw something to be transformed. This was very much the case for the Anders Olsen.

                                                             Anders Olsen In 2012

As a wooden boat builder myself and a general seaman, I tell everyone that wooden boats are magical and romantic beyond measure, but never ever ever should you own one. Have your friend own one instead; your wallet and time will thank you.

The Anders Olsen, however, was special. Built in 1979, she was a relatively new build, constructed in the age of more modern materials like steel, FRP, and even early iterations of carbon fiber. She was built under special conditions. The Anders Olsen was one of the few boats granted use of the Royal Danish White Oak Forest, planked in some of the most beautiful old growth white oak on the planet. She was more than stout. While most wooden boats might be built with 12 inch frame spacing, she was built with 6 inch frame spacing up at the bow, making her incredibly strong. In addition to that she was steel plated on her bottom for an additional level of protection and could likely handle some ice conditions.

Her builders also had the foresight to pair that traditional construction with thoroughly modern machinery. She was fitted with a Scania engine and equipment that reflected the same forward thinking philosophy. Think of the people who take a beautiful 1950s car and fit it with modern suspension, electronics, and power steering without disturbing a single line of the original body. The Anders Olsen was built with that same idea from the start, a vessel that honored the old world craft of wooden boatbuilding while refusing to be hamstrung by it.

Somehow around 2012 she had found her way to Squaw Harbor, Unga Island, Alaska, where she lay at an abandoned cannery that had been recently purchased by a local fisherman.

                                                                                                     Starr Docked up at the Cannery

She sat there for years, waiting for someone willing to take a chance on this piece of history and give her the refit she deserved. That was when she came into contact with my family. It just never worked out in the end. With three owners and no clear title to be had, the deal fell apart, and she continued to sit.

This brings up something worth talking about when it comes to how boats survive neglect. Leave a fiberglass boat for ten years and it will be rough, but more than likely something you can still put back together. The same goes for steel and aluminum. A wooden boat, however, is a different game entirely. As you can see from the photos, time has not been kind to her. In only about ten years she has degraded far beyond the point of saving and would now officially be considered a wreck. Given the small piece of history she holds with my family and the dream she briefly represented, it was more than a little sad seeing her in the condition she is in now.

                                              Anders Olsen Today pushed onto the shoreline

Don and I were able to walk through the boat and admire what she once was, a stout vessel built to handle whatever conditions were put in front of her. But she had long since been stripped bare and was holed at multiple points throughout the hull. She no longer sat on the water. Instead she sat in the ground, the tide washing up and down her lines with every cycle, indifferent to the history she carried.

                          The dining area at the stern, where Don and I entered the boat

                                                                                                      One of the rotting holes at the stern

                                      The hallway leading to the Deck and living quarters

                                                                                                                              The deck looking aft

                                                                  The view from the pilot house

                                                 The pilothouse stripped of all equipment

There is something quietly sobering about standing inside a boat like that. You can still see the quality in the bones, the tight frame spacing, the weight and character of that Danish oak. The craftsmanship does not lie even when everything else has fallen away. She was built to last and under different circumstances she would have. All it would have taken was one person, clear title, and a little belief along with a very deep wallet.

That is the thing about wooden boats. They do not fade gracefully the way the romantics would have you believe. The moment nobody is looking after them, they go fast. The Anders Olsen deserved better, but she got time instead, and time won. A good boat, a brief dream, and a reminder of why you let your friend own the wooden one.

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