PAUL EDWARD DYBDAHL The house started shaking, and Dad could see everyone bailing out of the house. Of course, it was every man for himself, and they left me in the tub. I came out after everybody, naked and screaming.
I was born Aug. 16 , 1944, in Ketchikan. My father, Paul Edward Dybdahl Sr., was born and raised in Trondheim, Norway. He came to the United States via New York and eventually ended up in Klawock, where he met my mother, Bernice Rowan. Dad worked as a cannery tender captain for the Welsh family who owned canneries in Klawock, Hoonah and Yakutat. During the off-season he was the caretaker for the Hoonah cannery at Icy Strait Point.
I have four sisters and two brothers. In 1949 we moved to Icy Strait Point and lived there until we got into the upper grades in grade school. The road to the cannery wasn't maintained in the winter. Dad had an old power skiff. He built a little shack in the back with a heater, and he'd bring my brothers and sisters and me to school in the morning and pick us up when school was out and take us back to the cannery. I can remember him sitting out there, exposed to the elements, while we were nice and cozy sitting in the back.
POOR US
I considered living out at the point as the world's greatest playground. We could hunt deer out back and sit at the kitchen table in the morning and look out and see if the kings were in. If they were, the herring would be out there flipping.
A lot of people thought "Poor us" because we were out there. We never got so many Christmas presents. People in town thought we were really bad off, isolated out there or something. But we loved it.
When we got into the upper grades in grade school, Dad decided to buy a home in town. He'd stay out at the cannery to care take of the place. He'd come up every day and sometimes spend the night. We were pretty independent and must have drove Mom and Dad crazy.
We got boats and motors when we were young and went out fishing. When I found out I could get a few bucks for a king salmon, the first thing I bought was electric hair clippers for my mom. It was heaven because I didn't have to get my hair pulled anymore from the old hand clippers she used.
We would make trips across Chatham Strait and Lynn Canal to Hawk Inlet and camp on the beach. Ed Holmberg was the watchman at the cannery over there. I made a trip one year in an open skiff with a small bow. It was late February, early March. I took two or three sleeping bags; I had insulated coveralls and bunny boots. I got there late in the afternoon and tied up to the dock. I turned on my alcohol stove to cook a can of pork and beans and crawled into the bow to get warm while I waited for the beans.
All of a sudden there was a pounding on the bow. It was Ed asking me what I was doing. I asked if I was tied up in the wrong place, and he said, "No you crazy, blankety-blank. If I can't find a place for you to sleep up at my house by the heater, you can sleep with me." I said, I'll take the heater. Anyway, he opened up one of the rooms in the bunkhouse that had a heater in it, so I lived like a king.
Once a week the mail plane came into Hawk Inlet and brought Ed's groceries and mail. I'd have fresh king salmon boxed up and sent to the 20th Century Supermarket to make some extra money. Ed was an eccentric old guy. He treated us really well, but I'm sure my mom and dad must have been worried sick about us. Sometimes we'd be gone for a week
In the '50s and '60s there were lots of earthquakes, more so than now. I remember one time, I was taking a bath and Dad was trolling out front in the power skiff. Well, the house started shaking, and Dad could see everyone bailing out of the house. Of course, it was every man for himself, and they left me in the tub. I came out after everybody, naked and screaming.
NEW YEAR'S BABY
In Juneau, they had a New Year's baby contest. The baby that was born closest to the turn of the year won all these prizes. My mom was in Juneau with our soon-to-be brother Jim, my youngest brother. On New Year's Eve, a nurse told my mom that if she took some cod liver oil it would speed things up. So she did. And Jim was born and won the contest.
Mom flew home with Jim in an eight-passenger Grumman Goose. We were all at the dock waiting for the plane, not knowing it was loaded with prizes like games and bicycles and electric clocks. The whole back end of the plane was full clear up to where the pilot and Mom sat. The pilot had to climb out through the nose, which also had cargo. I'll never forget my dad standing there, and he says, "By God, there is one kid earning his way into the world already."
Back then, the town turned the electricity off at 11 o'clock to conserve on fuel, so we'd fire up the Aladdin lamps. I remember a lot of nights my dad would take us outside for family time. It'd be cold, but all the stars would be out, and the northern lights, and Dad would point out the constellations and the Milky Way and things like that.
I went to the boarding school in Sitka at Sheldon Jackson for my high school years and then went for two years to junior college. We were one big happy family at boarding school. After I graduated from college, I went to work for Fish and Game doing stream work, trying to predict salmon runs. Then I went back to Sitka and went to work at the pulp mill during its heyday. After three years, I decided I had enough of punching the clock and decided it was time to move on. I did some hand trolling, then I purse-seined for nine years at the Inian Islands by Cape Spencer and Elfin Cove. Then I went back to trolling.
THE BEST CAREER
In 1980, they started to build the harbor in Hoonah. In the spring of '81, I went out fishing and didn't return until fall. When I came back I was totally baffled; I didn't know where this wall had come from. I couldn't see what I had always seen coming into town all my life. I was just amazed; there was this beautiful harbor. Fishing was up and down, and I decided if I had a good job onshore I'd do a lot better, plus I'd have benefits. I applied for a job, and in February of '82 I became Hoonah's harbor master. Initially it was hard, laying down the ground rules.
Over the years I've worked hard to make this a nice facility. We go the extra mile to take care of people. I treat everyone's boats like they're my own. I enjoy the job. I meet a lot of nice people, and I get to see a lot of boats. We're blessed with where we are. We're at the crossroads of Icy Strait. You can leave here and go to Juneau, turn and go down Chatham Strait or go up Lynn Canal to Haines and Skagway. We also are close to one of the small seven wonders of the world, Glacier Bay.
I think one of my greatest accomplishments in life is the job I'm in right now. Sometimes I ask myself: Why are you concerned about being paid for it when it's so much fun? I'm proud of setting the standards and running a good harbor.
The cannery where I grew up has now been renovated and is a big hit with the cruise ships that anchor across the bay. I'll be 65 in 2009 and plan to retire and write a book, because I've never read a book about a harbor master.
Ed and Milinda May are the owners of Insight Passage Productions. They have produced two audio CDs, "Stories From the Last Frontier" and "Fishing Tales." Their latest audio work is featured in the movie "Baked Alaska," a documentary on the changing environmental landscape of Alaska now out on DVD. Their Web site is www.alaskanlifeportraits.com.
