Report From Dorothy Nahanee

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When we decided to enter this salvage business, we knew we'd need a heavy-duty boat to tow the big, heavy logs we found the distances that we'd sometimes have to take them. So we took part of the $20,000 we'd gotten from the sale of our house on t he reservation, bought an old Navy lifeboat, and began to fiberglass its hull and install a large diesel engine.

Unfortunately, we underestimated both the time and cost involved in rebuilding such a boat. What we'd planned to take four months and $4,000 had soon absorbed 10 months and $10,000. Then, just three days before it was to be launched, our newly restored—but uninsured—boat caught fire and burned back to little more than a basic black hull.

We had no choice but to start over again. Only this time—thanks to our experience and the help of a friend—we were able to rebuild the vessel in just seven weeks and for only $2,000. At long last, after a year of much money going out and very little coming in, we're ready to start our salvage operation. We were lucky enough to find a 1,000-gallon tank of diesel fuel on our island (left behind by the industrialist) when we moved in and we hope to use it in our boat. Does anyone know if diesel fuel gets stale with age?

WE WOULDN'T TRADE OUR NEW LIFE FOR ANYTHING

Yes, there are drawbacks to life on an island. For one thing, you can't just "run down to the store" whenever you want a stick of butter ... nor, of course, is medical assistance as readily available to us as it is to most other North Americans. And we've learned the hard way that people who transport all their building supplies by boat often spend more time getting those materials to the construction site than they spend on the actual job itself.

And then there's the matter of fresh water ... or, rather, the lack of it. Our island—you see—has no springs, no wells, no freshwater source of its own. So we've learned to get by on 40 gallons of drinking water a week (which we pack in from "outside" in five-gallon containers), plus whatever rainwater we can collect from our bountiful winter monsoons. When we can, we plan to float a tank on a small barge, tow it to the stream on a nearby island, fill it, and tow it back again for future use.

Still, there's much to be said for a tide that daily delivers a fresh supply of lumber and shingle bolts "free for the gathering" to our front beach. Not to mention the occasional little surprise "extras", such as the dog dish which we now use as a gosling feeder.

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