WIRED FOR THE FUTURE

Yours truly, just off study cycle:  glazed, but not fazed.

Washington Island, Wisconsin -

Wired for the future.  Wired for success.  Wired to see if I could stay awake.

Today the wind picked up velocity as snow began to fall.  It's not quite a snowstorm, but it could be if the frontal line were just a few miles different.  Today's snowfall reminded me of my activities last week, during the first snowstorm of the season, when I went to a Green Bay hospital sleep lab for a wakefulness test.

Due to heavy snoring, and worse, stopping breathing for a time during sleep, some years back I became a candidate for a sleep device known as a CPAP (positive air pressure delivered through a mask).   I would probably not be here to write this, had I not had this machine to back up my normal reflexes during sleep by keeping my airway open.

Its a great life, and even a better night's sleep, with such a device.  I knew it worked for me, but the problem was the United States Coast Guard, which administers maritime licensing, has the responsibility  to ensure the license holder is medically fit for service (recently, increased emphasis has been placed on a candidate's medical history, brought to the forefront in transportation accidents where health issues were a proven cause).   My machines - I use one for home, another smaller one for travel - because of their age, would not produce a computer readout that would prove regular and appropriate usage.  Therefore, I had to do a wakefulness test.

I only had a small inkling of what this test would consist of, and so fearing long hours with little to do, I brought along my computer, iPad, and a batch of paperwork.  As it turned out, these were useful and helped the time fly by...but only between the "studies."

After many wires were glued or taped to my head, face, main neck arteries and legs, so that my movements (or lack thereof if I fell asleep) could be recorded, I was ready for Test #1.

My instructions had been to report to the sleep lab that morning within an hour of waking up.  I did that. By 8:20 I was wired and ready to be tested.  However, rather than comfortably working, reading or listening to music while I was tested, I found myself in a room that was purposely quiet, darkened but for one small light  (drapes that allowed subdued light from the snowstorm outside remained open, but I wasn't to gaze outside).  I was directed to sit in a very comfortable chair and instructed to make as few movements as possible in each 40-minute test period.

Forty minutes seems like a snap, and to stay fully alert during this time would be no problem, or so I thought.  I had slept a good night's sleep, but I soon found that staring at a blank wall or the light switch, with occasional diversions to door hinges or door handle, brought on a degree of difficulty I had not anticipated.   My efforts to review chronologically my first 64 years of life, the great movies, music playing in my head, and acquaintances near and far, soon mushed together.   Maybe I tried too hard, at first, but the first test session could only have been made more difficult had a spinning pinwheel been placed on the wall, with a distant, monotone voice repeating, "You are getting sleepy..."

It was, in the end, efforts to keep my mind in the present and the fear of failure of this test, that kept me awake.  And, later on, having read emails during my down time also raised adrenaline levels and helped me to focus on my immediate task:  staying awake.

What would constitute failure?

Falling asleep would do it, in particular falling into the deep levels of one who was sleep deprived, as recorded and measured by the data collected.  Forgot to mention that I was on camera the entire time, too, observed by the sleep lab attendant who monitored me somewhere down the hall, in a room where the data was received.

I said to her after the first study, my eyes still getting used to looking around in bright light, "This is more difficult than I had anticipated. It seems unfair to have the room darkened and lights turned down, without any stimulation whatsoever.  You've designed this for me to fail!"

"I have to admit, it seems like a cruel test," the attendant said.  "But this is a DOT test, designed by them, and we don't have a choice in how we do it.  It's supposed to simulate driving a truck, being on the road for hours at a time."

OK, I thought.  I can relate to that, driving, or standing at the helm, being on watch at night while gazing at a red light on the horizon for minutes, hours, with only the glow of compass and instruments from the ferry binnacle to cast light.  But, I reminded her, truck drivers chewed gum or tobacco, listened to country tunes on the radio, or cranked a window wide open for a jolt of fresh air.

But, after the first sleep study session was completed, I had approximately 75 minutes to read and check emails.   My disposition toward the study improved, to my surprise.  When the lights were dimmed once again for the second, the third and fourth 40-minute study periods, I thought often of being that 18-wheeler driver, and how falling asleep might mean crossing into the opposing lane.  That thought, and others like it, helped shock my system, helped me to focus my eyes on the light switch or the door handle.   And, as is human nature, I occasionally scratched my nose, ear, or chin, and those motion, too, helped to break up the 40 minutes of otherwise silent boredom.

So at this juncture, I am wide awake (of course!) and await word back from the National Maritime Center in Falling Waters, WV (that blessed spot of earth proclaimed a mecca for Coast Guard record keeping by the ranking former Senator, patron Robert Byrd).

I fully expect to receive my captain's license renewal, unless there is some glitch.  That reminds me:  I had to leave a urine sample in a cup next to the wash basin before I left the study room, and I was never asked to sign a custody slip.  That sample is to prove I had not doctored myself with caffeinated beverages or pills during the day in an attempt to cheat on my test.  I hope the janitor didn't pour the remains of his coffee into my cup.

My future as a ferry captain is still unknown!

    -  Dick Purinton

SUPRISE REVEALED ON PLUM ISLAND

Champion tree:  Roy Lukes, Tim Sweet and Steve Waldron

Plum Island, Wisconsin -


A group of five hiked the interior of Plum Island Monday, August 22.   Our main goal was to locate two large hemlock trees that were measured in 1981 (see blog dated 6/29/11), large specimens we thought might be worthy of champion status in the county.

Accompanying me were: Door County naturalists Roy and Charlotte Lukes; Clintonville, WI teacher, and president of the Friends of Plum and Pilot Islands, Tim Sweet; and Island Schools 7th and 8th grades science teacher, Steve Waldron.   Each also has a high degree of photographic interest and skill, and we were eager to photograph whatever we came upon as a means of helping record both human and natural history found on this Death's Door Island.

Roy and I had tramped the island looking for the large hemlocks in 1981, trees that I had observed while hunting there a previous fall.  It was still a "Coast Guard" island then, and we had permission from the Coast Guard's Station Commander to visit.  This time, reflecting the official change in island ownership from one federal agency to another in the fall of 2007, we asked permission from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in order to photograph and study trees there.  By "study" we meant, in the general sense of the word, observing the condition of the forest, as well as taking comparison measurements of the largest hemlock trees identified thirty years earlier.

Except for intersecting an occasional deer trail on our cross-island hike, we were, in Tim's words, "bushwhacking."  The combination of numerous windfalls, patches of waist-high raspberry plants, a variety of tall wild parsnip (which we suspected would produce skin burns) and nettles growing up to seven feet in height (which did produce stinging, burning on Charlotte's hand), made us work to find our subject hemlocks.

Having observed these two hemlocks as recently as about ten years ago, I led the way, following a route from memory, knowing we would be in the approximate vicinity.   But after we searched without results, Roy said he believed our two trees grew much closer to a low limestone ledge.  We moved that way, and his hunch proved correct.  We had been close, but I had been searching for tall, bushy hemlock crowns, not expecting to find these trees minus their tops.  Both hemlocks, as it turned out, had apparently succumbed to old age and had lost their entire upper story.  We measured one of them, anyway, just as an exercise of interest, and Roy's special tree tape indicated that this tree was in the ten-foot-circumference range with a diameter of forty-one-and-a-half inches.

One of two hemlocks found
that are on last legs. 

We were disappointed to find these trees were no longer vital, although each snag still had a few living branches on them.  This island was logged extensively in 1985, a combined effort of the Wisconsin DNR and the U.S. Forest Service (BLM was island owner-manager at the time), and we wondered if the opened forest might have contributed to the demise of these trees?  Or was it simply old age catching up?

Roy exclaimed he would enjoy nothing more than to measure a living tree, so we set off in the direction of yet a third hemlock, one we had observed years ago near the southern tip of the island.  My memory was that this tree, thirty years ago, was a younger brother to the other pair, and it had measured in with a nine-foot-plus circumference.  So we trekked off through the dry, brittle undergrowth with drooping leaves that showed severe lack of rainfall this summer.  Even in in shady areas, leaves drooped, stressed by the dry heat.

Finally, after pursuing a few false leads, we located our third hemlock.  This one proved to be well worth the hike.  Roy once again removed measuring instruments from his pack:  electronic stadimeter to measure height; two tape measures, one for crown spread and one for trunk circumference with sharp picks at the tape's end to hold it in place in the tree bark; and a GPS to record the location.

Within minutes we had our measurements which Charlotte recorded and plugged into a prescribed measurement formula:    average crown spread - 56 ft.;  trunk circumferenceat approximately four feet above ground - 10 ft. 10 in.    Charlotte then added 1/4 of the averaged crown distance to the circumference in inches, plus the tree height in feet (57 ft.) and ended with a descriptive number:  201.

Checking our tree list for Door County's largest recorded hemlocks, this one edged the top hemlock at Toft Point, recorded at 189.225 points.  Of course, 201 is still an unofficial number until the figures are reviewed by the State.

When not examining Plum Island's flora,
Charlotte Lukes recorded
and totaled tree measurements.

Our Plum Island experiences were well worthwhile, despite our disappointment in learning that two trees were no longer vital, and it was certainly fulfilling to find this champion tree.  We noted that a huge lower branch of this champion tree had recently fallen, likely due to storm damage, which might have reduced the point total significantly.  It took down with it a nearby maple, the leaves of which were brown but still clung to the branches.

Old lighthouse measured, too


We chose to return to our boat at the station dock by hiking past old stone ruins and through the cleared range light field.  These stone ruins, we are convinced based upon early 1900 photos of the standing foundation, belonged to the first lighthouse on Plum Island.  This lighthouse was completed in 1849, before a more substantial and better-situated lighthouse was built on neighboring Pilot Island in 1858.

Roy passed his tape measure to Tim, and we took approximate readings of the foundation dimensions,  guessing in the stone rubble corners where the building had ended.  We measured 19 ft. x 29 1/2 ft.   The recorded coordinates for this foundation:  N 45- 18.22'   W 86 - 57.247'

Small traces of mortar still can be found between the laid stones, but most of the mortar has eroded over time, one possible indicator, Steve Waldron noted, of the relatively poor construction mortar available at the time. What are essentially piles of stones could, in fact, be easily overlooked by passersby.  Charlotte noted that the upland area north of the old foundation appears relatively clear, perhaps a sign it had been cultivated at one time, and toward the beach there is a sand and gravel ramp that slopes toward the water, perfect for hauling a boat or moving supplies to and from the beach and structure.

Tim Sweet standing inside foundation rubble.

Given our rough dimensions, this foundation's location, the materials used, and the old light's context within Plum Island's recorded history, we are even more strongly convinced that this site is worthy of further historical investigation by an experienced archeologist.

Terry Pepper of the Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association contributed information on the earliest Death's Door lighthouse in the FOPPI Summer Newsletter 2001.  Using information gleaned from research of structures of similar U.S. light installations of the same period, Pepper came up with a rendering of what the old Plum Island light may have resembled.  (See FOPPI web pages at  www.plumandpilot.org  for further information on this lighthouse.)

Excellent weather accompanied us on our Plum Island outing, and we took a number of photos that we intend to pool with the Friends of Plum and Pilot Island.

Monday, August 22 - Tim Sweet, Roy Lukes, Chalotte Lukes, Steve Waldron.

  -  Dick Purinton

PLUM ISLAND HEMLOCKS

One of two large Plum Island hemlocks
measured in 1981 - Roy Lukes photo

Washington Island, Wisconsin -

In late summer of 1981, I had the pleasure of hiking the woods on Plum Island with Roy Lukes.  We  were on a mission to relocate several large hemlock trees I had seen there while hunting the previous fall.   I knew that Roy, who at that time was the Naturalist at the Ridges Sanctuary, might be interested.

We walked the island's interior forest, which at that time had begun to show signs of overbrowsing by the island's increasing deer population.  We had received permission to hike then from the Station Chief at the Plum Island Coast Guard Station.  Roy encapsulated our trip in an article he wrote as a featured columnist for the Door County Advocate:

"Dick found what he thought might be a contender for the state hemlock champion.  My tape showed it to be 9 feet 8 inches around with a height of 75 feet.  After giving it some thought, my friend decided to head in a different direction toward a possibly larger specimen.   
"Within minutes he had found it, quite a giant with a circumference of 10 feet 7 inches, a height of 86 feet and a average crown spread of 49 feet.  Looking at my book of state records we both broke out in big smiles as we read, "Shawano County, 10 feet 4 inches."   That record is old, however, and needs to be checked."


Roy later followed up with an inquiry to Guy Rodgers, Supervisor of Private Forestry for the Wisconsin DNR.  Mr. Rodgers' reply indicated the two hemlocks we measured were 224.85 and 236.12, respectively, in terms of points.  He also reported that the state record hemlock was in Sawyer County and totaled 257 points!  It should be noted that the national point system as recognized by the American Forestry Association recognizes a record tree according to an accumulation of points, those points taking into consideration circumference, height, and crown spread.  The State of Wisconsin, however, scores only by circumference.  (Roy noted in his column that all measurements are usually taken, in the event the tree may be close to the national record.)

Fast forward

The Plum Island hemlocks were measured some 30 years ago.  During that span the life and health of a tree changes, growth may occur, and new giants may have been discovered.

Several weeks ago when I attended an island slide program narrated by Roy, he reminded me of our 1981 trip, and he wondered if we might be able to obtain permission to visit Plum Island once again from the island's present ower and manager, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.   Our plan is to return to Plum Island later this summer in order to relocate and remeasure these same two trees, and to find out how much they might have grown during that time.

Perhaps the trees we measured have grown closer to becoming a state champion tree.  Larger trees around the state might have succumbed...or, there might be new near-record trees discovered as more and more people seek them out and measure them.   Roy has often written about large trees in his column (a state record hophornbeam was found at Newport State Park by Kirby Foss a few years back). Finding and admiring outstanding trees, and measuring the largest, are among the many enjoyable aspects of walking about in local forests, along with knowing these specimens have been here for generations and will live well beyond our time.

While our Wisconsin trees might not measure up to the giants found in other states, Wisconsin does have a great amount of forested land and each year new candidates for champion status are discovered.  In the case of Plum Island, we theorized that the moist lake air, heavy fog or damp evenings, might have promoted growth in these particular hemlocks.  With the exception of a combined U.S. Forestry and Wisconsin DNR logging effort in the summer of 1985, when the island was commercially logged for the first time, no timber had been harvested there.  While these two large hemlocks from the island's interior were spared the chainsaw then, dozens of semi-loads of logs were harvested that summer, followed by scraping the ground to promote new seedling growth.  Then planters seeded new trees, oak seedlings among them.  (Dessert for the deer!)

Unfortunately, among the trees sawn down in 1985 were several outstanding white cedars with bark "strips" that were several inches wide at chest height above the base of each tree.  I estimated with my "wingspan" that these trees measured nearly 8 feet in circumference.   These old cedars were most likely hollow, anyway, and had very little value as timber, but they were perhaps among the largest of Door County's cedars.

Now with U.S. Fish and Wildlife as owner and protector of this island's habitat, Plum Island's remote hemlocks have a strong chance of surviving many more decades, barring disease or a lightening strike.  Their periodic measurement, in addition to being a curiosity, may further contribute to the knowledge of our local forests.  

-  Dick Purinton

Ninth Coast Guard District Recommended Reading

Duluth, Minnesota -

Rich Ellefson, Hoyt Purinton and I attended the Passenger Vessel Association fall Great Lakes Region meeting in Duluth Oct 18-20.  Approximately 40 persons representing 25 companies were present, and we were joined by members of several U.S. Coast Guard offices, including Sector Milwaukee and the Duluth Marine Safety Office, and Charles Barbee who as a retired career officer now heads the Coast Guard Marine Investigative Unit centered in Washington D.C. 

Joining this group for lunch Tuesday was guest speaker RDML Michael Parks, Ninth District Commanding Officer from Cleveland, OH.  All U.S. Great Lakes operators between Duluth and Buffalo, plus Lake Ontario, fall under the safety inspection network and regulatory management of the Ninth Coast Guard District.  I believe this was the first Great Lakes regional meeting I've attended (since 1976) where the District Commander made an appearance.  RDML Parks' informative remarks, his response to our questions afterwards, and the fact he took time to recognize our particular segment of the larger marine community, were appreciated.  

I had the pleasure of sitting to RDML Parks' left during lunch, and I learned something of his previous Coast Guard duty experiences.  It turns out the Admiral had visited Washington Island in the early 1990s when the location of the Coast Guard's Plum Island search and rescue facility shifted to Washington Island.  Parks spoke about the Coast Guard's emergency role in New Orleans following hurricane Katrina from first-hand experience, and also challenges faced by the Coast Guard in addressing the Deepwater Horizon oil spill earlier this year.  

RDML Parks had with him a copy of my book, Words On Water, which he cited during his speech as a book well worth reading.  He then presented a copy of the book as "assigned reading" to new Duluth MSO inspector LT Geoffrey Scibek, with intended good humor but also as an instructive perspective of one Great Lakes ferry company.  Later, after having first inscribed LT Scibek's book, I presented a fresh copy to Admiral Parks and we posed for this photo.

-  Dick Purinton