Oregon Coast Vacation, Part 3

After our lunch stop at Siletz Bay we drove farther south to Depot Bay. An old coastal town, it boasts the smallest harbor in the world. I don't know if this is a sure thing, but it is a charming town with great scenery, touristy shtick, a tricky harbor entrance, and resident gray whales! 

At the mouth of the harbor channel is the Whale Watching Center, a State park now, and staffed by volunteers that keep track of the whales sighted each day. The migration season is over, but resident grays continue to put on a show.  

Thar she blows!  These spouts were almost continuous somewhere over the bay. Then after spouting several times, the whales would arch their backs, visible just above the water, before diving down. It's mesmerizing to watch them. 

 The harbor, with the Hwy 101 arched bridge over the harbor channel. 

 The harbor channel is very tricky at high tide with rough seas. 

 In the harbor we spotted a harbor seal and its pup. 

Of course there was ice cream!

We turned around now and headed back north, stopping at Boiler Bay to take a look. With calm seas, there was no boiling. 

 We stopped in Tillamook for dinner at the Pelican Brew Pub. Back at the cabin I went for my evening walk and watched the sun go down on another great day. 

Wednesday was another pretty day. We were thrilled with lucking out on the weather. The surf was very rough though, with rollers breaking far out and throwing salt spray into the air. 

After our morning beach walk I spent more time reading on the beach. 

After lunch we walked into town for our daily dose of ice cream. The tourist train that runs between Garibaldi, using vintage cars and engines, was in town. 

Unfortunately, tragedy was playing itself out on the beach, which we became witness to. 

Walking into town we heard the siren go off at the fire station, but saw no response. We walked on, got our ice cream and then walked over to the Wayside to sit and eat it. It was there that we saw the reason for the siren.

When we reached the Wayside, the land and Coast Guard boat response teams were there. One helicopter, and then another soon arrived. They were obviously searching for someone in the surf. 

 We learned from other onlookers that there were two people missing. We watched for an hour until one person was recovered, Attempts to revive him were futile. 

 From information coming out on line after we got back to the cabin we learned that a 17 year old boy, part of a family visiting from Fort Collins, Colorado, had gone out on his boogie board. His parents saw him knocked off his board and disappear. His father went out into the surf to try to save his son. Both drowned. The father was recovered. All that afternoon and evening the search continued for the boy, from helicopters, boat, and land vehicles. 

Our evening walk was somber and sad. Helicopters passed by overhead and firemen in vehicles search the beach, back and forth. As I posted on Facebook, this is the beauty of the beast. 

 As I type this on Sunday evening, for a later publication, it is now over four days later, The search was suspended the next morning. I am still haunted by this tragedy and am tuned in to the Rockaway Beach Community Facebook Page, where we have been sharing feelings, and where eventually I will hope to learn of the boy's body being recovered. 

As I write this post townspeople are gathering at the wayside in Rockaway Beach to hold a candle light vigil. While there have been other such losses on this beach, too many in fact, this one has hit them hard.

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Update: 
There is further information about the Father, Robert Allen, age 50, who was an Alternative Cooperative Education Coordinator, teaching vocational and transitional skills to students with educational disabilities at Fossil Ridge High School. Such a terrible loss. 

As I publish this on Wednesday it has now been a week since we witnessed this tragedy. The boy has not been found. The townspeople are slowly putting it behind them, as am I. I'm not ready any time soon to go back the the beach though. For the family life will never be the same. 

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Last Thursday morning we packed up and left the cabin, still feeling disturbed by the incident. But on the way home we stopped at my sister Ilene's home in Vernonia, Oregon to have lunch. We had delicious salmon sandwiches, from fish caught by Ilene's son, and she served us fresh strawberries, picked for her own garden, for dessert. 

It was a good ending to a mostly very good little vacation.