A similar story about a different place, a different boat, and a similar time. I was kayaking across Rice Lake in Canada. This lake produces more pounds of panfish than any other lake around in either Canada or US. Up ahead was a fisherman, trolling slowly, coming across my path from right to left.
I veered off to the right to avoid going over his trailing lines. He veered to his left, arcing towards me. I straightened to my left a bit to parallel his lines and miss them. He arced in closer yet to me; it became obvious he wanted to talk.
His boat was a cedar stripper, a speed boat about 15-16' long, 4' wide, and about 15" deep. All cedar strips. He cut his idling engine, and "Helloed" me.
I sez, "I think we have the only two wooden boats on the whole lake."
"Yep, this is the last boat made by (name of a locally famous builder, that has slipped my mind.) He made it about thirty years ago, just before he died. All the resorts around the lake used his boats, until fiberglass started coming in. It's the last one of his boats around. I plan to keep using it until one or the other of us can't do it anymore."
He went on to tell me how he grew up on the lake, fishing, trapping, hunting, etc. Tom Sawyer really wasn't fiction; this fella lived it. Then, resorts and tourists. Then more resorts and more tourists. We chatted a bit more, and he proceeded on his way.
I saw him again the next year, then no more. I hope the olde gent is still fishing up there in the great lake in the sky, his wooden boat giving him as deep of pleasure as it did here on earth.