Pottschmidt Bob

Friends, fishermen and close family members gathered on the aft deck of the F/V Paragon, Sept.14, 2002, to celebrate life and say their last good-byes to Bob Pottschmidt, who died of cancer July 12, 2002, in Des Moines.

Bob was born in Indonesia Sept. 14, 1946. He would have been 56 years old that Saturday, and the sun shone brightly on several dozen guests who scattered flowers and garlands into the West Passage near Vashon Island to accompany his ashes, then raised their cups and their voices in his honor.

It was a fitting memorial for a man who had devoted such a large part of his life to commercial fishing, to flying small aircraft and to the out of doors. He was a founder of the Bristol Bay Driftnetters’ Association, and he chased salmon, herring, squid, tuna and brine shrimp from Norton Sound to San Pedro to Hawaii.

Fishermen who shared the remote waters of Alaska with Pottschmidt, and others who fished along side him in Puget Sound and even the Great Salt Lake, recalled story after story that echoed their common appreciation for a friend who was always there to help, and who also had an uncanny knack for showing up just in time for dinner.

His laughter may have surprised those who knew him from afar and saw only the curmudgeon’s image that he worked so hard to cultivate. Tilted forward from the waist with his thumbs in his pockets and head cocked to one side, he was a formidable character in his crusty hat, poker face and fisherman’s garb. But beneath his hard shell was a keen intellect, a generous soul and a vulnerable heart that touched those who knew him, friends say.

He was a voracious reader, who would stay up all night to finish a book. He was anxious to share what he’d gleaned from its pages, and he glowed when someone actually followed through and read one of his many recommendations, they said.

Complex in thought, he lived simply, often oblivious to personal creature comforts, yet he was finely tuned when it came to the boats he fished, the airplanes he flew and the firearms he collected and enjoyed.

As a cook, he was both a dictator and an artist in the kitchen. As a guest, he knew that food was for the eating. As a friend, he was quick to share his knowledge, his insight and his skill.

Survivors include his twin daughters, Juna Pottschmidt of Anchorage, Alaska, and Holly Morales of Portland, Ore., who shared his last hours.

His ashes were scattered as family and friends listened to the words of those who loved him.