Mysterious Deadman's Island

A small island lies near the bottom end of Washington State's Puget Sound near Gig Harbor. In all the summers I spent as a camper and, later, as a counselor, at CYO Camp Blanchet, that island was our ultimate destination.

We called it Deadman's Island, and it was the usual site of our overnight camping trips. They'd haul us over to Deadmans from Raft Island in the Walrus, a Navy surplus landing barge from World War II, and we'd storm the beach, carrying our sleeping bags and camp gear. One of the great events in Camp Blanchet's history was the day the Walrus sank with a bunch of campers aboard. Fortunately, the kids were all required to wear heavy cork Navy surplus life preservers, so the only down side of that great adventure was wet clothing and sleeping bags.

Deadman's was like a cupcake floating in the shallows of the Sound. I would bet that most days we could have nearly walked there from nearby Raft Island which, at one time, belonged entirely to Camp Blanchet.  But the trip on the Walrus was a big part of the fun., our own little D-Day with 40 10-year-old girls in tow.

On our overnight camping trips we spent most of the time on Deadman's beach. To climb to the island's heights meant an almost certain encounter with the abundant poison oak (Toxicodendron diversilobum) that only added to Deadman's mystique.

Camping in those days meant sleeping on the rocky beach with an underlayment of sword fern fronds, cooking the invariably lumpy CYO oatmeal and watery cocoa over an open fire, and digging a pit latrine. We spent lazy days walking the beach, blackberry picking, digging clams for what was inevitably a gritty and sandy clam chowder, and wading around in the shallows. Nightimes were reserved for singing around the campfire, the making of s'mores, and the telling of ghost stories, most of which had to do with fictional events that occured on Deadman's Island.  It was a lot of fun when I was a camper, and when I was a counselor, I suddenly realized I had awesome responsibilities to keep 40 little girls safe and to help them have a good time.

Biggest dangers, I suppose, were relatively minor: sunburns marshmallow burns from overeager marshmallow roasters, barnacle cuts, and, of course,  poison oak. Unfortunately, the best blackberries always seemed to be growing in tandem with poison oak. 

CYO camp was not an elite camp. I think the 10-day session cost only $25, which wasn't a that much money for summer camp even in the 1950s.  Most kids who were in Catholic school in western Washington got to CYO camps at least once, and always there were plenty of so-called ``camperships'' for low-income families. A lot of the kids who came were from foster families, and, for some, this was their first time ever outside the city. The name of the game was for me to make sure  everyone was part of the fun and had a good time.  I suppose I even now bring some of that camp-counselor mentality to my activities in the Pagan community.

I remember being paid the royal sum of $10 a week my first couple of years. I think my last summer, when I was a college student and elevated to senior staff, I got a whole $25 per week for a 10-week summer, with the paycheck coming only at the end of the summer. But in many ways, those were the best summers of my life.

The press of suburban development in the South Sound area made Blanchet a much less secluded camping environment. In the 1970s, the archdiocese sold the camp property itself to a Greek Orthodox church from Seattle,  and the rest of the land outside on Raft Island was developed for housing. Today Greek Orthodox kids attend All Saints Camp on the island.

And Deadman's? I learned from looking at nautical charts that it's really Cutts Island, a Washington State Park. It and nearby Raft Island were ``discovered'' in 1841 by members of the United States Exploring Expedition, led by Admiral -- and Antarctic explorerer -- Charles Wilkes.  Raft Island was originally named Allshouse Island for Joseph Allshouse, a member of the expedition crew who was killed when struck by a spar as one of the Expedition's ships hit heavy seas when leaving San Francisco Bay. 

Anyway, I did get to Raft Island earlier this week when I was up in the northwest.  'I even drove over to the camp property, but camp wasn't in session. There's now a bridge to Raft Island--and its pricey homes--so I was able to shoot this photo of Deadman's from the middle of the bridge.

 

Ah, to be 19 again and facing a summer of sleeping on Deadman's  beach, blackberry picking, clam-digging and s'mores and songs around the campfire. I hope those Greek Orthodox kids have as much fun as I did in the golden days at Camp Blanchet and on those overnights to Deadman's.

Comments

[Bill Crisman]

The chowder was gritty, wasn't it? My experiences were with the boys, but the memories are the same. Will never forget the last day of the Walrus: Gordie Hamilton was going to give it a fitting, quasi-martial sendoff by firing holes in its bottom with his WWII service .45; but the old steel was a bit stonger and thicker than he thought, and the bullets richocheted wildly, and the three of us on board abandoned ship fully clothed...cursing like sailors if I remember correctly. Two of my Order of the Cross badges (Centurion and Tribune) hold honored place on my office walls to this day. Blanchette WAS an island that "floats in the sun..."

Many thanks for the memories.

[Bill Phillips]

"Gordie's Kid's" are having a reunion at Old Camp Blanchet in 2010. I was craft director there 69-71.

[Bill Phillips]

All of the details of the sinking of the Walrus are not completly clear to me because I wasn't there. I do know that Gordie wasn't there either but was at Camp Don Bosco at the time of the sinking. The Walrus sunk rapidly and Gordie arrived on the scene a couple of hours later or less. Gordie never pulled a service revolver nor did he shoot at the already sunken Walrus. Anybody have any other FACTS to add?

[Kevin Billings]

What a great post! Camp Blanchet was the best part of moving to Seattle in 1964 -- and every summer until 1971 when we mover to Mobile. (Life as a Navy Junior!) Thanks for the memories. I'd love to hear about the reunion. It would definately be worth the trip.

[Victoria Slind-Flor]

I think the stories of the sinking of the Walrus are like any other story told around the campfire, namely that they get better with each telling. Oral tradition often contains more than a little confabulation, but that's what makes it fun. The reunion would be fun.

[Victoria Slind-Flor]

My sister Martha was on that Nanamakee hike and helped save Jim Patenode's life. He fell into the cravasse, too, but they were able to pull him out.

[Bill Phillips]

Please disregard the notice for a reunion at Blanchet in 2010.