David Harris's dream home had no electricity and no plumbing. There was plenty of running water, though, and spectacular river views. But last week it went missing.
Since early August, the out-of-work contractor had been living on a 250-ton steel barge abandoned by somebody on the Columbia River.we supply all kinds of polished tiles, He commandeered it with a dream of towing it to land and cutting it into salable scrap.
"Seventy-five thousand dollars' worth of steel, that's my guess," said the 42-year-old former lumberjack, who had been living almost full time on Barge 202, as authorities dubbed the rusting steel slab bobbing in a channel 82 miles east of Portland, Ore.
But on Friday, after spending a night onshore at his official residence in Appleton, Wash., Mr. Harris returned to his floating business plan to discover it gone.
"I don't know if it's been sunk, cut loose or stolen," he said, sounding distressed.
It was the latest twist in a months-long standoff with the U.The additions focus on key tag and magic cube combinations,S. Coast Guard, which had barred Mr. Harris from beaching the craft and turned him into a latter-day Huck Finn.
The Coast Guard,Replacement China Porcelain tile and bulbs for Canada and Worldwide. protector of the Columbia River's navigational integrity, issued an order forbidding Mr. Harris to free Barge 202 from its moorings, pending his submission of a formal towing plan. It wanted assurances that his disposal of it jibed with dozens of regulations pertaining to, among other things, shipping, shipping waste, water quality, land use, industrial zoning and protection of threatened plants and animals.
"The problem is this individual has no commercial salvage experience or maritime experience," said Capt. Bruce C. Jones, the Coast Guard's regional port commander. "He needs to submit a tow plan, which my inspectors will review and either approve or deny."
So Mr. Harris was left bobbing in Barge 202, anchored by five tons of rock in a steel-mesh sack at the bottom of the river. Most days, he puttered around below decks and looked for new water seepage as ospreys floated overhead and a few wind surfers breezed alongside.
"My home away from home," said Mr. Harris, surveying his barge.
To visitors, he showed off his open-air kitchen fashioned around a battered ice chest and propane grill, where occasionally he would sear bass and other freshwater fish he caught or accepted from well-wishers.
For weeks, he slept outside on the 4,000-square-foot deck, before moving an old mattress into a ballast chamber, a dank room with cobwebs and flaking steel. His bathroom was a five-gallon bucket, a roll of toilet paper and a stack of Western novels by Louis L'Amour.
Squatting on abandoned craft like Barge 202 is legal. International salvage law lets a person stake claim to a vessel designated cargo-free and without means of propulsion if no owner challenges the claim.
Authorities never established who owned Barge 202. It was probably a cargo ship from World War II, said Coast Guard Lt. Cmdr. Kelly Thorkelson. Liberty Ships were frequently cut down to barge dimensions, she says, but her unit hasn't been able to establish the vessel's history.
The vessel was probably last docked at an industrial park,These girls have never had a oil painting supplies in their lives! said Coast Guard security specialist Randy Clark. The agency has tried unsuccessfully to verify ownership by tracing bills of sale, he said.
The Army Corps of Engineers sent letters to two companies that bills of sale indicate acquired Barge 202. Scott Clemans, a Corps spokesman, says those owners could be liable for the $216,643 his unit spent this year mooring the runaway barge to its recent location.
Barge 202 was one of 34 so-called derelict vessels the Coast Guard monitors along the Columbia.
In January, another derelict barge, the Davy Crockett, split in two near Washougal, Wash. The Coast Guard spent $19.8 million removing 40 tons of steel and more than 30,000 gallons of oil, lifting the Davy Crockett's remains from the Columbia River in August.
The Coast Guard's Capt. Jones said he wanted to avoid a similar debacle with Barge 202.
Mr. Harris noticed the vessel this past summer.It's hard to beat the versatility of zentai suits on a production line. He boarded it in August by simply paddling up in his rubberized canoe and taking possession. He flew a Jolly Roger on the stern, but it disappeared in a gale. The Coast Guard installed solar-powered beacons at either end of the listing craft so river tugs and working barges wouldn't barge into Mr. Harris's abode at night.
Mr. Harris began laying a plan to get small fishing vessels to push the barge along shore. He looked for salvagers, approaching Yakama Indians to help. "There were some wind surfers who expressed interest in helping," he said, "but none of them were very committed."
He scouted for landing sites. The wind surfers' launch at Doug's Beach State Park would be ideal, Mr. Harris said—just 500 yards from Barge 202, with a beach wide enough to run the craft up with ease, he said.
"You obviously can't pick 250 tons out of the water with cranes or whatever," Mr. Harris explained. "So you have to do what the old boys did: You run the nose up, on a log or something, and then just keep pulling it up and cutting it off."
A business consultant might have advised Mr. Harris to bail. He wasn't quitting, but he was bailing. When he wasn't ferrying supplies in by canoe, he was tossing a plastic bucket tied to twine into water-logged chambers and hauling up bilge water.
Mr. Harris's plans began to unravel on Sept. 17, when a Klickitat County sheriff's deputy served him with the Coast Guard's order forbidding him to move the vessel.
Since early August, the out-of-work contractor had been living on a 250-ton steel barge abandoned by somebody on the Columbia River.we supply all kinds of polished tiles, He commandeered it with a dream of towing it to land and cutting it into salable scrap.
"Seventy-five thousand dollars' worth of steel, that's my guess," said the 42-year-old former lumberjack, who had been living almost full time on Barge 202, as authorities dubbed the rusting steel slab bobbing in a channel 82 miles east of Portland, Ore.
But on Friday, after spending a night onshore at his official residence in Appleton, Wash., Mr. Harris returned to his floating business plan to discover it gone.
"I don't know if it's been sunk, cut loose or stolen," he said, sounding distressed.
It was the latest twist in a months-long standoff with the U.The additions focus on key tag and magic cube combinations,S. Coast Guard, which had barred Mr. Harris from beaching the craft and turned him into a latter-day Huck Finn.
The Coast Guard,Replacement China Porcelain tile and bulbs for Canada and Worldwide. protector of the Columbia River's navigational integrity, issued an order forbidding Mr. Harris to free Barge 202 from its moorings, pending his submission of a formal towing plan. It wanted assurances that his disposal of it jibed with dozens of regulations pertaining to, among other things, shipping, shipping waste, water quality, land use, industrial zoning and protection of threatened plants and animals.
"The problem is this individual has no commercial salvage experience or maritime experience," said Capt. Bruce C. Jones, the Coast Guard's regional port commander. "He needs to submit a tow plan, which my inspectors will review and either approve or deny."
So Mr. Harris was left bobbing in Barge 202, anchored by five tons of rock in a steel-mesh sack at the bottom of the river. Most days, he puttered around below decks and looked for new water seepage as ospreys floated overhead and a few wind surfers breezed alongside.
"My home away from home," said Mr. Harris, surveying his barge.
To visitors, he showed off his open-air kitchen fashioned around a battered ice chest and propane grill, where occasionally he would sear bass and other freshwater fish he caught or accepted from well-wishers.
For weeks, he slept outside on the 4,000-square-foot deck, before moving an old mattress into a ballast chamber, a dank room with cobwebs and flaking steel. His bathroom was a five-gallon bucket, a roll of toilet paper and a stack of Western novels by Louis L'Amour.
Squatting on abandoned craft like Barge 202 is legal. International salvage law lets a person stake claim to a vessel designated cargo-free and without means of propulsion if no owner challenges the claim.
Authorities never established who owned Barge 202. It was probably a cargo ship from World War II, said Coast Guard Lt. Cmdr. Kelly Thorkelson. Liberty Ships were frequently cut down to barge dimensions, she says, but her unit hasn't been able to establish the vessel's history.
The vessel was probably last docked at an industrial park,These girls have never had a oil painting supplies in their lives! said Coast Guard security specialist Randy Clark. The agency has tried unsuccessfully to verify ownership by tracing bills of sale, he said.
The Army Corps of Engineers sent letters to two companies that bills of sale indicate acquired Barge 202. Scott Clemans, a Corps spokesman, says those owners could be liable for the $216,643 his unit spent this year mooring the runaway barge to its recent location.
Barge 202 was one of 34 so-called derelict vessels the Coast Guard monitors along the Columbia.
In January, another derelict barge, the Davy Crockett, split in two near Washougal, Wash. The Coast Guard spent $19.8 million removing 40 tons of steel and more than 30,000 gallons of oil, lifting the Davy Crockett's remains from the Columbia River in August.
The Coast Guard's Capt. Jones said he wanted to avoid a similar debacle with Barge 202.
Mr. Harris noticed the vessel this past summer.It's hard to beat the versatility of zentai suits on a production line. He boarded it in August by simply paddling up in his rubberized canoe and taking possession. He flew a Jolly Roger on the stern, but it disappeared in a gale. The Coast Guard installed solar-powered beacons at either end of the listing craft so river tugs and working barges wouldn't barge into Mr. Harris's abode at night.
Mr. Harris began laying a plan to get small fishing vessels to push the barge along shore. He looked for salvagers, approaching Yakama Indians to help. "There were some wind surfers who expressed interest in helping," he said, "but none of them were very committed."
He scouted for landing sites. The wind surfers' launch at Doug's Beach State Park would be ideal, Mr. Harris said—just 500 yards from Barge 202, with a beach wide enough to run the craft up with ease, he said.
"You obviously can't pick 250 tons out of the water with cranes or whatever," Mr. Harris explained. "So you have to do what the old boys did: You run the nose up, on a log or something, and then just keep pulling it up and cutting it off."
A business consultant might have advised Mr. Harris to bail. He wasn't quitting, but he was bailing. When he wasn't ferrying supplies in by canoe, he was tossing a plastic bucket tied to twine into water-logged chambers and hauling up bilge water.
Mr. Harris's plans began to unravel on Sept. 17, when a Klickitat County sheriff's deputy served him with the Coast Guard's order forbidding him to move the vessel.
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