an afterlife for the graveyard of the pacific

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AN AFTERLIFE FOR THE

Since the early days of exploration, the treacherous mix of water and sand near the mouth of the Columbiahas claimed hundreds of ships and an untold number of lives. Though hard-earned experience andchanging technology has placed our infamous era of shipwrecks mostly in the past, its legacy will long remain.

STORY BY LYNETTE RAE MCADAMS • PHOTOS BY JOSHUA BESSEX

Graveyard of the Pacific

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n the hours of first light on the foggymorning of Oct. 25, 1906, Capt. H.Lawrence, the last to leave his strandedvessel, came ashore in a lifeboat withonly three things in his possession: theship’s log, a sextant, and a demijohn of

whiskey. Turning to face his floundering craft,an angry surf still boiling all around her, hesnapped to attention, offered a dignified salute,and, after a moment of silence, said to his ship,“May God bless you, and may your bonesbleach in the sands.” Joining the members ofhis onlooking crew, all of them sodden andexhausted, he placed the whiskey at their feetand, with a flourish of his hand, gave them onefinal, merciful order: “Boys,” he said, “have adrink.”

All 25 members of the crew of the PeterIredale, as well as two stowaways, walked offwith their lives that fateful morning — luckierby far than so many who had come before. Ithink of them each time I walk that stretch ofbeach on Clatsop Spit, imagining how the burnof the whiskey would have felt as it hit theirempty stomachs, how the illusion of itswarmth would have radiated out to arms andlegs long numb with cold, and how none ofthem, locked only in their joy to be alive, couldever have conceived that more than a centurylater, their farewell toast would still belingering on the breeze.

Of course, the “bones” of the Iredale, or atleast what’s left of them, remain to this day.Easily the most well-known and most visitedshipwreck in the Pacific Northwest, it became atourist attraction the very morning that it ranaground. Local schools let out early, horse-drawn carriages plowed through sand to see it,and the first of a hundred years’ worth of photog-raphers started lining up to take its picture.

Famous mostly by virtue of its easy accessand longevity, the Iredale is emblematic of ashipwreck’s intrinsic ability to captivate acrowd. Attracted to the drama of the scene — amoment of catastrophe, frozen tangibly in time— humans have been flocking to these disastersfor as long as we’ve been taking to the seas.Quick to embrace any tragedy not our own, anopen window into someone else’s miserysomehow brings our own good fortunes sharplyinto focus.

But it’s not only the insight of calamity thatcarries an allure. In the days of sail and steam,when they occurred with staggering frequency,every shipwreck also bore the promise of itsown exotic bounty.

The Peter Iredale: Shipwrecked 1906The Peter Iredale wrecked on Clatsop Spit in 1906 and has drawn a captive audience ever since.

This photo dates back to the 1930s. PHOTO COURTESY COLUMBIA PACIFIC HERITAGE MUSEUM

Famous mostly byvirtue of its easy accessand longevity, thePeter Iredale isemblematic of ashipwreck’s intrinsicability to captivate acrowd.

I


n Washington’s LongBeach Peninsula, where I

make my home, all 28miles of open beach was

once a testament to these maritime mishaps, andevery longtime local remembers the days whentheir rusted, twisted hulls protruded from thesand in number. Even the wrecks that precedecurrent memory still live on as local legends —their stories the ever-intriguing blend of tragedyand reward, compounded by the romance of thehigh seas. Local lore is full of the tales of noblecaptains and mutinous mates, cruel storms anddaring rescues, fortunes and lives wagered andlost; and who among us hasn’t felt theirchildlike imagination quicken at the thought ofburied treasure or chests of gold?

In fact, shipwrecks that offered practicalprovisions were actually considered morevaluable, and in the early days of pioneersettlements, just as dramatically life-changing.Consider the Merrithew, which wrecked duringthe harsh winter of 1853, scattering cases ofpickled fish, wine, raisins, candles, and buildingmaterials from Cape Disappointment all theway to Willapa Bay. The beach-wide bonanzathat ensued was said to leave a new eveningprayer on the lips of all the local children: “God

bless Pa and Ma, and please bring a wreck in onour beach.”

In Oysterville in 1860, the Woodpeckerdropped 800 pounds of flour; in 1865, theIndustry lost a cargo load of liquor. The Harvest

Home, wrecked in 1882, brought with it amultitude of wagons and paint, along withenough Wellington boots to “fill a barn.”

More than 150 years of flotsam producedsideboards full of silver, endless amounts oflumber, several pianos, fine silks, blankets, tablelinens, chunks of coal, and, a personal favorite,the spoils of the Vazlav Vorovsky, a Russiansteamship that deposited so many tubs of lardand butter that all the citizens of Long Beachwere said to have it stacked on their backporches — enough for a decade, at least. >>

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The Harvest Home: Shipwrecked 1882The American bark Harvest Home wrecked near the north end of the Long Beach Peninsula in

1882. An instant tourist attraction, her hull remained visible on the beach for decades afterward.PHOTO COURTESY COLUMBIA PACIFIC HERITAGE MUSEUM

Vaslav Vorovsky: Shipwrecked 1941The U.S. Coast Guard helps rescue Russian sailors from the Vaslav Vorovsky, which wrecked in the Columbia River in 1941.

PHOTO COURTESY COLUMBIA RIVER MARITIME MUSEUM

I continue to look on withfascination, alert to thelessons and legends of theseshipwrecks that still whisperin the wind.


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oday, almost 70 years has passedsince the last major ship was thrashedalong these shores, but remnantsfrom those early days are all around— in our place names, our museums,

our antique stores, even our neighborhoods. InOcean Park, next to the public library, there’sa cabin called The Wreckage, built in 1912from materials almost entirely salvaged fromlocal shipwrecks. A few blocks north sits TheDoor House — a charming cottage sided froma shipment of ornate doors that all felloverboard and washed ashore in the mid 20thcentury. Not far from there, a porthole from theremains of the Strathblane adorns a neighbor’sfront door.

And on the beach near my house, every fewyears after a particularly savage storm, theAlice still rolls over in her grave to say hello.

Stranded here in 1909, the French schoonerwas a vision of three-masted sail, her rigging

fully intact the morning she struck sand. By thenext day, the local Clamshell Railroad wasalready offering a special excursion route tosee her, and people lined up in droves to makethe journey. In photographs of the day, men inthree-piece suits and women wearing long,layered dresses, look on with fascination at herhelpless plight. Carrying an unlucky cargo ofcement, they watched her belly succumb to theshifting sands, sinking lower and lower as themonths, and finally years, passed by.

But the Alice wasn’t eager to end her timealoft. That slow descent took decades, and evennow, at low tide after a fierce blow, I usuallyknow where to find her. There’s not much ofcourse, and what’s left is hard to discern. Someyears I think I see the base of the foremast; othertimes she reveals what looks like the long line ofa well-shaped keel. When she does show, it’susually just for a day or two, then quick as canbe, the tide turns, and she’s gone again.

The Alice: Shipwrecked 1909Curious onlookers observe the rescue of the crew of the French ship Alice, which wrecked near Ocean Park, Washington, in 1909.

PHOTO COURTESY COLUMBIA PACIFIC HERITAGE MUSEUM

TToday, almost 70 years haspassed since the last major

ship was thrashed alongthese shores, but remnants

from those early days are allaround — in our place

names, our museums, ourantique stores, even our

neighborhoods.


It’s hard for me to say just what it is thatmakes me seek her out, but like the Iredale, herbones speak to me. Oak and iron long ago gaveway to rust, but still they reach up, twisting overnow and then, the final reminders of a distantbut still touchable time in local history. And likethe men and women in those old photos, whostepped forth from buggies and trains in fancyhats, their necks craning for a view, I continue tolook on with fascination, alert to the lessons andlegends of these shipwrecks that still whisper inthe wind.

In their day they bore the gifts of plenty, andnow, even in ruin, their ghosts continue to enrichour lives with intrigue and imagination. Lacedwith all the complicated trappings of humanity,their stories are many, but their message is one:Time and tide may shift the sands around us, butthe past is ever present — imploring us,beseeching us, to hold its memory dear.

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MAIDENASTORIA

255 14TH STREET ASTORIA, OREGON 97103WWW.MAIDENASTORIA.COM

Clothing Boutique and

Handmade Goods

Su rfs id e o ffic e 1.8 0 0 .774 .4 114

Oc ea n Pa rk o ffic e 1.8 0 0 .8 5 4 .0 0 3 2

Lo ng B ea c h o ffic e 1.8 0 0 .8 5 4 .2 2 3 2

SOURCES:Gibbs, James A. Pacific Graveyard. Binfords & Mort, 1973.

McDonald, Lucille. Coast Country, A History of SouthwestWashington. Ilwaco Heritage Foundation, 1989.

O’Neil, Wayne R. Man & The Sea. Midway Printery, 2013.

saltwaterpeoplehistoricalsociety.blogspot.com

The Wreckage: Built 1912In Ocean Park, there’s a cabin called The Wreckage built in 1912 from materials almost

entirely salvaged from local shipwrecks.

PHOTO BY LYNETTE RAE MCADAMS

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an afterlife for the graveyard of the pacific

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