Old Fools Journal: Hank

I once knew a man by the name of Hank Law a Canadian from western Canada. I knew him as a result of sailing to the Sea of Cortez and hanging out there for a while. "A while" being seven years. Hank was a very interesting old man. I say old because he was always eighty something and at that time I was fifty something. It being that I saw him last about 18 years ago he would now be ninety something pushing 100. In human terms I believe that qualifies as old. He may or may not still be among the upright and walking around humans but to me he is immortal.

When I met Hank he was a grizzled old man in raggedly shorts and no shirt with twinkling eyes that were constantly on the move. Little did I know I would be seeing a lot more of him, literally, as he was a died in the wool nudist. Not a nudist in the card carrying formal sense but he could and would shed his clothes at the drop of a hat. Even if he had to drop the hat. If he had not become a dear friend I would never have known that he was an adventurer, gold hunter, rancher, boat builder, sailor, musician, writer, poet, maker, inventor, tinkerer, singer, humorist and a long distance bicycle rider. I presume that coast to coast in Canada qualifies as long distance
Desperado's. Hank, myself and Don the bug man.

According to him he was born in London near Westminster Abby. I know nothing of his young life which is not to say that he did not tell me but given that we were always drinking and singing songs when we were talking story I seem to have more than a few memory gaps. I remember that he left England in his late teens for Australia to seek his fortune and did well enough to get passage to Canada in his early twenty's. I am reasonably sure that he landed in Quebec in 1929 (10 years before I was born) with an undetermined number of Gold Sovereigns, youth and a willingness to work. According to his memoirs Quebec did not suit him.

More about his memoirs:

One day he handed me a stack of handwritten papers and said "read this and tell me what you think". I thought, oh no this is some kind of test and I am going to be bored. It was not and I was not. It started in 1929 with the landing in Quebec and went from there to an unremembered time in western Canada. Somewhere northwest of Vancouver in BC. I read it in one sitting. It was fascinating.

What I remember from his memoirs:

As I mentioned Quebec did not suit him so he bought a bicycle and set out for the west coast. His story was mostly of various jobs working his way across country but one stuck in my mind. It seems an Indian on a pony took up with him and they rode together for several days. According to Hank that Indian stayed with him until they could communicate well enough for him (the Indian) to ask the question of “why does the white man save his snot in a rag and carry it in his pocket”? Hank said that it would have been easier to answer “what is the meaning of life”?

Hank ultimately ended up in Vancouver as I recall and did well eventually owning and operating a cattle ranch somewhere northwest of there. He married had sons, divorced and moved on. He had a band at one time with his sons called “Hank and the Lawless” I believe. I used to have a recording of a tune they did that made the jukeboxes called “My Little Pony”. I may still have it in my “stuff” but I have so much “stuff” that I can't find it.

As happens to an adventurer blessed with a long life it become time to follow other dreams. Knowing nothing of the sea except what he had experienced traveling on ships and even less about building boats he decided to build one and sail away. So he did. A nice little twin keeled wooden ship. He built it on the ranch hauled it to the ocean, learned to sail it and went to the Sea of Cortez where I met him in Escondido Bay.

I ask Hank to tell me about the bicycle ride. He said it was as easy as any other part of life then. You got up in the morning and got on the bike and rode all day and made camp. Simple. It was cheaper than a horse (the only other choice besides walking) and you didn't have to feed it. It did draw attention. He believed that when he arrived on the west coast that he held the world record for long distant bike riding on the same bike. I have so many questions I would like to ask him now.

There are many little stories of Hank like when he fell into the bay one night and spent a very long time there (12 hours I seem to remember) before someone came along and helped him out. After that near death experience he moved ashore.

Then he ordered an a keyboard and set it up in his trailer and commenced to play and in a few months rented the local hall and gave a free concert for your dancing pleasure. SWMBO was the hostess for that event. She dressed as an old west dance hall girl. It was a fun night.

Hank was a dear friend and a fellow adventurer. My bride (She Who Must Be Obeyed) and I become very close friends with Hank. He was part of our family and for a time we took responsibility for each other.

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The cargo bike is coming along nicely and I should have a report in a couple of days.