Wreck of the Jasper
You’ve heard of the Titanic and the Edmund Fitzgerald, and maybe the Peter Iredale, but how about the Wreck of the Jasper?
On a blustery day early in 2008, the city of Gearhart, Oregon, witnessed a piece of maritime history of infamous proportion (at least to me). At that time I was visiting the Oregon Coast from Utah and with wife not due to arrive for a few days, was on the loose. I had no immediate obligations and was at the wheel of my wife’s brand new jasper green Toyota Camry Hybrid, aka “Jasper”.
Of course, geocaching was priority one. After nabbing a couple of Gearhart caches, I came across the vehicle access road to the beach. That brought back memories. In 1979 a friend and I visited the same area with another brand new car – a sweet 1978 Saab 99. Being photo nuts, we drove the Saab down onto the beach near Cape Kiwanda and got some great shots of the car with the surf and sea stacks in the background. The part I didn’t remember was getting back in the Saab and having some difficulty getting traction in the sand…
Wouldn’t it be great to have a companion shot of the Camry on the beach with the waves and Tillamook Head in the background? Since both cars were bright green, it would make for a nice little set. Gleeful and carefree, I drove the car down the access road and out onto the beach, heading north along the stretch open to cars. I began scouting out the best site for some photos, thinking that close to the surf would be the most dramatic. I was pleased to see that I had the beach almost entirely to myself.
About that time, I started to have vague concerns regarding this venture. Was it wise for two-wheel drive cars to be on the beach? As if in answer, I began to experience a sinking feeling. Literally. Jasper didn’t seem to be getting very good traction for some reason. As forward momentum began to decrease, full-fledged alarm set in.
I knew that I had to keep moving, that stopping would be catastrophic. And, I had to turn around and get back to the access road. But which way – to the right into the much drier and looser sand, or to the left, perilously close to the surf? Knowing that the dry sand would be much worse, I made a decision and began a hard turn to the left.
The car actually survived the full turn and was now headed south, toward safety. However, the turn had also cost momentum, and Jasper was barely making any headway. The sinking feeling and my desperation spiked, and I dearly wished I could go back in time about 5 minutes and forget the whole photo shoot idea.
And then we stopped entirely. I gingerly tried the accelerator a few times, but it was obvious that action was only digging the car in deeper. We were stuck! Looking out to the right, I could see the surf, and it didn’t look like much over 50 feet away.
What was the first thing I did? I turned on my Garmin, of course. I had no idea whether the tide was coming in or going out, and it seemed like that particular bit of information would be of interest. Quickly navigating to the tide page for Seaside, I got the worst news possible. It was just a bit past low tide. It was on the way back in.
I jumped out of the Camry and saw the situation was worse than I had imagined. The car was completely bottomed out in the sand. Until that time, I didn’t know the phase of the tide. I didn’t have a shovel or a cell phone. Looking up and down the beach, I could only see one other sign of life – a vehicle far to the south.
I didn’t have the vaguest idea of what to do. I frantically tried to dig sand away with bare hands, but that was obviously fruitless. The car wasn’t going anywhere, the surf was encroaching dangerously close, and our beautiful new Camry Hybrid with less than 1,000 miles on the odometer was in great peril.
I began to consider making a desperate run to the nearest houses to try to get help. But, I knew that would take a considerable amount of time. Should the captain go down with the ship? I don’t know that I have ever felt more desperate and helpless. Then, looking back along the beach to the south, I saw that the vehicle I had noticed before was much closer, and was obviously heading toward me at a good rate of speed. Was there yet a small flicker of hope?
Seconds later, a four-wheel drive truck pulled up to landward, and three burly young guys got out. The first thing I noticed was that they were all grinning. But, they had shovels – lots of shovels, and we all immediately began digging at various spots around the car.
One of the guys was digging in front of the Camry, and apparently uncovered the license plate. “Hey!” he called out. “He’s from Utah! That explains it!” Much laughter ensued. It was becoming clear that this was an immensely entertaining diversion for these obviously local lads.
“This is a hybrid, isn’t it?” another one asked. I answered affirmatively. “Well,” he replied, scarcely able to contain himself, “I can only imagine what will happen when the sea water gets up to the battery!” Another hearty round of laughter all round.
Despite the joviality, we were making good headway at clearing away the sand, and I began to feel downright hopeful. But, looking to the west, I saw that the ocean was advancing and was now only about 30 feet away.
“You know,” another dude yelled out between shovelfuls, “I just read an article that said that no insurance company in the country will cover vehicles that are destroyed by salt water.”
“Right,” replied another, “especially two-wheel drive hybrid sedans from Utah!” Much hooting and hollering accentuated the gleeful mood.
“Cool color, though. It’ll look great with fish swimming in and out of the windows!”
Despite my fear and anxiety, I felt unbelievably foolish, especially given my self-perceived status as a genuine Oregonian. And these guys were having the time of their lives at my expense.
Finally, I was told to get in and give it a try. I slowly applied some gas and with all 3 guys pushing, the car began to very reluctantly move forward. As I began to pick up speed, I wanted to stop and thank my rescuers, but knew that would no doubt lead to further immobility and provide them with even more entertainment. “Hey,” one of them yelled out, “Don’t stop! Keep moving!” As I waved, I heard one more comment. “Have a great time in Oregon!” Their laughter began to fade away.
Seconds later, Jasper and I were back on the access road and then on firm concrete. What an immense relief! I drove directly to the closest car wash and proceeded to spray an amazing amount of sand from under the car. We had survived!
My wife never heard this story, and it is only now that I feel up to commemorating it in any way. So, this geocache shall serve as a reminder of this little maritime incident. It occurred on the beach just to the northwest of this spot.
And if you see my wife, don’t tell her, lest you find yourself swimming with the fishes off the sandy shores of Gearhart.