Everything's "Allright" For Gladys

A 1994 interview with a cruising pioneer

By Gwen Cole

A green and brown figure, topped with a baseball cap, emerged from the cabin. Slowly she lifted a heavy navy anchor, lowered it over the bow, reversed the engine, and came back to the bow to hold on to the line as the anchor set.

I had read about Gladys Prince aboard the Allright. She had been fea tured in several magazine articles during the past year. She was a recluse who pre ferred to live alone year around aboard her cruiser. She provisioned at Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, and spent the winters at Reid Har bor, Stuart Island.

My curiosity getting the better of me, led me to our dinghy and I rowed in her direction.

When I approached, she did not go below as I had expected. Instead, she responded to my wave and sat on the deck of her forward cabin. I came alongside and, for the next half hour, my hand holding tightly to the rub rail, we talked.

"I hope you're not one of those shoreliners," she remarked. "What's that?" I asked, not having heard the term before. "Oh, one of those boats that ties a rope to shore and leaves it there to get in the way of people passing behind. I had trouble with one once." I glanced back at our boat, tied to shore by a long, limp line.

"How did you know to anchor here?" I inquired, quickly changing the topic. Gladys went on to tell me how she knew to line up certain trees on shore and that she had an chored in this exact spot many times. "It's getting too crowded now," she sighed, "too many boats and too much noise."

I asked her many questions. How did her boat receive the name of All right? Did she have a radio? What did she do for electricity? How long would she be cruising in Canada? Did she mind being alone? Was there a pet aboard?

Contrary to reports of her shy ness and aversion to people, Gladys appeared to delight in describing her life.

She had just spent $1,000 having the bottom caulked and repainted and having other repairs done to the engine. She talked about Tacoma and the Hylebos Waterway moorage that she called home for several years. Except for the summer of 1968, she had cruised from Tacoma to British Columbia each year. She explained that in 1968 she had had an accident when returning home to the waterway. The barge of a tug had swung wide and sideswiped her boat, capsizing it instantly. The frantic yells and waves of Gladys, her son, and pet dog were to no avail until her son used a mirror that he happened to have in his pocket. The mirror flashed in the setting sun, and an other boat came to their rescue. Gladys didn't have a pet aboard now, and her son was off adventuring on his own Bayliner. She planned to see him somewhere during the summer, however, without a VHF aboard her boat, their meeting would be arranged by chance.

Gladys said she found little need to communicate with anyone while travelling. "I had trouble with the customs people this year. They want me to check in all the time and tell them where I'm going so they won't worry about me," she replied seriously. "

I Iike to be alone, and explore places by myself. Don't care if anyone knows where I am."

"What is life like aboard the All right?" I asked. She described her cabin. I was not invited aboard to see it. She told about her wood stove and cooking arrangements. She found no need to have a refrigerator, ice box, or any form of electricity. "I like to eat Jello mixed with water and I can store that easily," she remarked. "Every once in awhile, when I'm extra hungry, I open a can of bacon and fry it with some eggs mixed with breakfast cereal. It's real good and fills me up," she concluded. A smile crossed her face as she remarked that the people at the Squirrel Cove and Refuge Cove stores set aside Jello for her, so she always has a good supply. "They also save gift wrap for me," she added.

'I don't like these crowded anchorages much," Gladys continued. "I like to come in here in the early spring or late fall when I'm the only boat in the cove. Nights like this when there's so many others, I some times just pull anchor and go find me a neat little hideaway where no one else is anchored."

Sensing Gladys' need for quietude, I said goodbye and reluctantly rowed back to our boat. I had been very impressed by this little lady and her love of cruising.

A few hours later, just before dusk, she weighed anchor and made her way through the maze of boats that now filled Melanie Cove. "Too crowded for her," we concluded. We passed her the next morning. She had anchored in a little niche near Everleigh Island.

About three weeks later we heard the Comox Radio operator informing a caller, "If you are reporting the Allright that's on the rocks at Sangster Island, it's already been reported and is salvage." That was a shock. When the operator read his traffic list he said, "We have urgent traffic for a Mr. Prince aboard a Bayliner." That had to be Gladys' son. We were very concerned about Gladys, but found that there was nothing we could do to help the situation.

Upon returning home we were relieved to read in The Journal Of The San Juans, published in Friday Harbor, that Gladys was doing well in the Nanaimo Hospital and that her son was travelling north to bring back her boat. It seems Gladys had awakened one morning to find the boat on the rocks and filling with water. All of her possessions had been lost in the mishap. The news release stated that, when her son was asked what he planned to do if the boat was a total loss, he had replied, "Well, I'll just get her another one." Fortunately, he was able to tow it to Orcas Island where it was refurbished and repaired.

Shortly after, an other excellent article appeared by Jo Bailey-Cummings who was then a reporter for The Journal. She suggested that friends and fellow boaters come to Gladys' aid by means of donations. Even many strangers to Gladys contributed to her cause. Gladys did recover and was able to spend the last of her life on-board the Allright anchored at West Sound on Orcas Island.