The Shipwreck: An Old Sailing Schooner Wreck Helps Me Connect with History

 The Oregon coast is perhaps one of the most iconic if not scenic of coastal areas. Mostly unspoiled, long stretches of pristine beaches run almost the full length of the western edge of the state. During the few years I spent out there as a member of the U.S. Coast Guard Station Umpqua River, Winchester Bay (mid-1970's), I often strayed away from the routine of station life to walk amongst the miles of driftwood timbers cluttering the high tide mark. Those outings were attempts to satisfy another one of my many Walter Mitty dreams that never came to pass; being an adventurous archeologist, and this was way before the days of Indiana Jones.

Pacific storms often batter the Oregon coast and because of their ferocity they will reshape and gouge the beach to expose relecks from times past. Those storms over the decades tossed many ships and sailors toward a dooming encounter, to run aground, on the deceptively beautiful beaches. Close to 3000 shipwrecks dating back to 1600's are scattered along this coast. (One of the oldest was a Spanish Galleon in the late 1600's that was lost enroute to Mexico from the Philippines. No one for many years knew for sure where it was lost, but recent discoveries places it along the Oregon coast. The first documented shipwreck occurred in 1808 when the Sea Otter, a 100 ton fur trading vessel was caught in a storm and wrecked near Reedsport/Winchester Bay.) During my tenure there, as luck would have it, after one such storm, the wreck of an old wooden sailing schooner was resurrected out of its sandy grave and exposed once again to the elements. I was determined to explore it.

Internet Photo for Illustration
(courtesy Photos of the Past) 
Alpha Sailing Schooner

Too many years have passed for me to remember the name of that schooner wreck. (It might have been  the Alpha - a wooden sailing schooner run aground near the Umpqua River Bar/Winchester Bay/Reedsport area on February 3, 1907, but to be honest, I'm not sure if it was north or south of the Umpqua River Bar. Overtures to some of the historical societies in the area have proven unsuccessful in identifying the one I visited.) Regardless, I began my journey hiking down the beach one blustery day to check it out.

Back then, just south of the Umpqua River Bar, there were three parking areas, each a mile or so apart. The remains of the wreck was located a few miles further south of the last parking area and required either a hike in or a 4x4 to get there. I did not have a 4x4 then, so I set off on foot.

A dark, low hanging overcast covered the landscape, so low and foreboding it all but seemed to blend with an ocean turned heavy by a stiff Northwesterly wind. Mist from the overcast mingled with the air and joined the wind whipped moisture coming off the breakers that were rolling in just off shore. One after another the breakers tumbled in generating a constant roar as they collided with the end of the continent. 

Behind and above the beach along the Douglas Fir lined ridge, the low overcast embraced the irregular tops of the trees turning them into ghostly gray apparitions. A beautiful sight in its own right, but not exactly the best kind of day for a hike, but the kind of day where the feel and fragrance and exhilaration of the moment burns itself into a forever visual memory.

It is always chilly on the beaches of Oregon, even in summer, but I purposely underdressed because the long hike ahead of me required some effort. All I wore that day was a long sleeve cotton blue work shirt, my C.G. issued heavy field jacket, dungarees, a ball cap, and a pair of boots. The only tools I carried included my venerable Buck 110 folding knife. That knife was rather new at the time, maybe a year old and it was sharp. It had to be, and we were constantly sharpening them for we used our knives for all kinds of things from scraping paint, to whittling, to cutting heavy line, all activities that tended to dull a blade. I figured I might find some old brass or iron spikes embedded in the timbers I could dig out.

At the time,  I wasn't sure how far it was to the wreck. I wasn't even sure for what it was I was looking. I figured I'd just walk until I found it. Felt like it was a lot further than what folks said it was as my hike dragged on for what seemed like miles, and walking that far on sand is not easy. About half way down, I crossed where a small creek emptied into the ocean as it spread out into a meandering delta-like stream several tens of yards across, and in places it was several inches deep. I tried to cross, jumping here and there, tip-toeing without getting my feet wet to no avail...they got wet. Being in a constant state of chilled wetness was just part of life as a member of a C.G. Lifeboat station...and I was used to it by then.

Just above the high tide, storm surge mark, the force of the storm had carved the sand into a seven or eight foot high crumbling sand wall topped by clumps of beach grass and loose debris that ran for miles. I had timed my hike to coincide with a receding tide. Spread across the sand in front of that wall were piles upon piles of large timbers of driftwood bleached almost white from exposure. I almost turned back after a good ways because I could not find anything that looked like the wooden spars of an old sailing schooner. However, a bit further out across the beach a line of tire tracks extended the length of the beach. I figured they were from a 4x4 heading out to the wreck site...and that assumption proved correct for a short distance later I spied what appeared to be a 4x4 Blazer parked near the sandy wall.

Internet Photo (Emily Reed wreck) Similar
to the Schooner wreck debris

A short while later I lumbered onto the wreck site. It was a remarkable, but sad site. Large ship timbers extended out from the sandy wall with ribs radiating in disarray laying on the sand to either side. There was no form or shape to them, just timbers that vaguely resembled the shape of a sailing vessel.  Unfortunately, there had been so much damage done to the wreck site by souvenir hunters wielding chainsaws, it was voided as a potential archeological site. There was not much left of it, just scattered timbers here and there with a few still attached to the main spar extending out from the sand wall. A lot of the debris had been stacked into a pile of rubble. The people who drove the Blazer were friendly enough, but seemed a bit uneasy about me being there. They replaced/hid their chainsaws inside the Blazer and simply kicked the sand around looking for artifacts. More than likely they saw the stenciled C.G. Station Umpqua River across the back of my field jacket and thought I might be investigating the situation or something. Actually I was, but not in the context of what they might have thought.

Regardless, they left a few moments after I arrived and I had the place to myself. I searched the loose timbers and found one S-shaped and partially broken brass spike that had been used to hold two pieces together. After that, I found a rusted out iron spike and some broken glass. The sight had been pretty well worked over so not much was left. Eventually, I moved closer to the sand wall from where the timbers extended out, and saw what looked like the bottom of an old bottle sticking out of it.

 I brushed away the loose sand. To my dismay, an old wide mouth medicine bottle with a cork stopper still in place, rolled to the bottom of the wall. It looked like some kind of substance had dried and stuck to the inside surface. The cork was still intact, but quite fragile. I stuck the bottle inside my coat pocket. A short time later using my hands to scrape the sandy wall another bottle appeared. This time it was an old Listerine bottle, again with a cork stopper still attached. I could tell it was old because of the kind of top it had, the embossed lettering, the coloration, and the fact that air bubbles were scattered throughout the glass. There was still some kind of liquid inside, just a small amount..water I thought, and I carefully removed the cork and took a sniff. To my astonishment, it smelled like...Listerine. Go figure. My guess, both bottles were from the sickbay/medical supplies on board the schooner. (In spite of my best efforts, although I still have that first medicine bottle, I was unable to find it for a photo to be included.)

I found no other artifacts of consequence during my stay, just some loose odds and ends, broken glass, and some small pieces of wood. The evening was fast approaching and I had a long walk back, so I said farewell to this symbol of a lost era. I wish now I would have returned and spent more time there searching that sandy wall for more amazing things to discover. I still have those few pieces of history I did find, and will from time to time hold them in my hand as I recall the events of that day. The old Listerine bottle helps to date the wreck from somewhere around 1905 - 1910 which corresponds with the date (Feb 3, 1907) the Alpha ran aground.  The corks that were still in the bottles, after being exposed to the drying properties of the air, rapidly deteriorated and crumbled away. 

I suppose I have always had a fascination with history in general, and historical artifacts and the events surrounding them...I have a few other old pieces I've found over the years; old farm tools, harness fittings, things like that. I also cannot help wondering about the people involved with such places. It must have been a frightful experience to be onboard that schooner and tossed around by a storm to run aground. Not sure how many people lived or died during that dreadful encounter way back then. I can only speculate on what might have happened. All I know is those two bottles, brass and iron spikes, are part of a continuous timeline that began while the schooner was being built, to eventually end on that lonely stretch of beach. 

A single day hiking for miles along the ancient beach inserted me into the historical timeline of a sailing schooner shipwreck, a timeline that continues even today when I hold those few articles in hand. Each time I am returned to that blustery day to revisit the sights and sounds of an amazing adventure. Having done so, well...it has to be one of my best Walter Mitty adventures and discoveries of all time.

Digesting The Moment

 March is the longest of months. Seems that way because it can never decide what it wants to do. At times it throws teaser days around with abandon ushering in warm spring-like temperatures only to turn blustery and cold again with a vengeance. Gentle winds transform into a roaring tempest, then filter back into a near calm spirit. A brilliant sun can fill the landscape and encourage it with the clearest of blue skies and then clouds blow in so thick as to turn daytime into a discouraging dusk at mid-day. Blooming trees, lured into an early display of flowers, are often zapped back into a muted wrinkled state. March is indeed the longest of months, and by months end, my spirit is often in need of some lifting.

March is for me the most difficult month to stay motivated. Those teaser days lure your aspirations with anticipation, then dash them, as finicky weather tosses them back into dormancy. Even so, there are moments I force myself to pick up my camera gear and get out. The scenery is often bland this time of year, but the trick is to find a way to digest the moment. 

The other day I took an easy stroll through the woods outback and stopped at a nearby pond. There was a bit of a breeze and a chill in the air, but the woods surrounding the pond served to muffle the effects of the wind. I found a somewhat dry spot and plopped down to lean against a tree trunk. Over the next thirty minutes or so, I really did not do much, just sat quietly and watched the ripples push a few dried leaves across the pond and listened to the breeze as it reached across the tops of the still dormant trees. Only a few early season, green clusters of leafy foliage broke the mundane gray and brown prevailing color. A few birds joined me; a cardinal, a titmouse, a chickadee or two or three, and some crows added their annoying squawking to the sounds of the afternoon.

I really did not take very many photos, just a snapshot or two. Mostly, I just enjoyed the quiet...digesting the moment. After sitting for a while, I continued my stroll crossing the open area between the two patches of woods and walked along the outside edge of the far one. All the fields were filled with debris and stubble, soybeans and corn. Toward the far corner of the woods before it opened up again into another field, I crossed through the outer edge and stepped onto the wooden bridge that spanned a low swampy area. As I stood on the front edge of that bridge, some movement caught my attention to my left. At first I could not make out what it was, then it moved again about 30 feet away; a migrating woodcock. He had stopped in this thicket, as they so often do, searching for a juicy worm to eat by probing their long beak into the soft mud. I raised my camera to attempt a photo but he spooked before I could capture him. A short time later, I jumped him again a bit further down along the outer edge of the woods. I never saw him the second time until he jumped. It's amazing how well camouflaged they are.

Before long, I had made my way to the far end of the woods and angled across the back edge of the cornstubble field to the other pond. As I carelessly approached, a couple of deer trotted off through the woods. Should have known they might be there. I stopped for a few moments next to that small pond and listened to the wind again as it moved the tops of the trees and jostled a grove of cedars into activity.

I made my way back toward home, sidestepping and zig-zagging around muddy pools of standing rainwater. When I crossed over the backside of my yard I stopped for just a moment to sit in the old porch swing we have set up out there. The firepit was cluttered with debris and filled with leaves...time to clean it up and get it ready for a new season...but not today. Today I'm just digesting the moment and allowing nature to say a few things. I suppose the best way to do some digesting is simply to allow nature to hold you captive for a while. As far as that goes, nature can hold me captive anytime of year...even during the longest of months...

The Meadowlark and the Prairie Pond

The tallgrass prairie, once covering over 400,000 square miles, as a continuous ecosystem was virtually destroyed in a few short years. By 1900, over 95% of it was lost to agricultural development and urban sprawl. However, a few remnants still exist. One of my favorite locations to visit and photograph is Oklahoma's Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, just north of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. It's almost 40,000 acres of original tallgrass prairie is the largest tract of protected and unbroken tallgrass prairie left out of the few scattered remnants of what once stretched from southern Canada through the central portion of America all the way to the Texas gulf coast. 

It is one of the few places where horizon to horizon vista's of tallgrass prairie, unmarred by man made structures can still be observed. I've made a good number of visits to this remarkable landscape over the years and have yet discovered all of what it has to offer. It's been a few years, Spring of 2019, since my last visit; circumstances has prevented my return, but I from time to time revisit this amazing landscape through memories and the thousands of photographs I've taken there.

Recently, I browsed through some of the images and spent some time examining a single photograph; The Meadowlark. It perhaps captures one of the most enduring elements of the prairie and that would be the myriad of wildlife that can be found there. Here is the story of how this image was captured.

On my last visit to the preserve a few years ago, my intent was to spend upwards to a week camping in a nearby campground, and spending the days driving through and hiking into and across this landscape. As luck would have it, I was greeted with thunderstorms, heavy rain, lightning, and tornado warnings which lasted for most of my time there. As a result I pulled out a day or so early having been thoroughly water logged. Although the rough weather curtailed a lot of my plans, it did not prevent me from exploring and photographing. 

One of the more productive locations I explored was a small prairie pond located just a few dozen yards or so from the gravel road that winds its way through the preserve. I suppose it was about mid-day on my second or third day, there was a lull in the rain and I decided to spend some time just sitting near that pond. With my tripod and 50-500mm lens I found a somewhat dry place to sit and just waited for whatever might appear.

Over the next few hours a good number of migratory birds including Long Billed Dowizers, one American Avocet, several kinds of Sandpipers, ordinary black birds including a Redwing Blackbird, and Killdeers which were fun to watch with their broken wing antics trying to lure me away from their nesting sight. There were a few Common Terns buzzing around performing aerial acrobatics, and a few Meadowlarks that spent most of their time riding the tops of the tallgrass stems that surrounded the pond.

One particular Meadowlark landed about twenty five yards or so from where I sat. He was just out of range really where I was unable to capture any kind of close up shots, but his striking yellow and black coloration stood out against the green of the prairie grasses. It just so happened that he perched on a stem that made him just about eye level with me. Slowly, I scooted across the damp ground lifting my tripod carefully forward. I closed the distance a few yards when the Meadowlark spooked and flittered a few yards further away, stopping again clinging to the tops of a tall stem of prairie grass.

I stopped moving, positioned my camera and zoomed out to 500mm and focused on the smallish figure of the bird. Between me and the bird and also behind the bird were thick layers of tall grasses which became blurred as a result of the exposure values. The overcast skies generated a soft filtered light across the landscape, and I snapped several images before the Meadowlark decided to move on.

I really did not know what I had until several days later when I returned home and began to rummage through the thousands of photos. This one stood out as it represented nature at its best and an environmental portrait of a beautiful prairie bird.

I'll never forget that trip. It was unique to say the least with the stormy weather. In hindsight, it was the stormy weather that helped to present another unique side to the Tallgrass Prairie; Nature in its raw form always creates the most demanding of changes, and change is what a photographer is compelled to capture.