Turn On It, Tune Out, Drop In

W WIND 10 TO 15 KT. WIND WAVES 2 FT. NW SWELL 8 FT AT 11 SECONDS.

Perhaps my favorite shipwreck on any coast...the Glennesslin...I particularly like the prospect of surfing that little right off of the bow.

On the first day of October, 1913, the Glenesslin bound for Portland, 176 days out of Santos, was sighted sailing unusually close to the Nehalem shores. It was a beautiful fall day, the ocean lay calm, and the sky was flecked with light clouds. Visibility was almost perfect and the gentle breeze should have been the delight of any deep water man. Suddenly and for no understandable reason the vessel pointed its bow directly for the devilish waters about the base of Neah-Kah-Nie, five miles north of the Nehalem River. Those who observed the strange antics of the ship thought they were seeing an apparition. But this was no Flying Dutchman; it was a staunch iron ship with a crew of live men. All sails were set and she was coming in fast. At precisely 2:30 p.m. an underwater ledge of rock, ripped a hole in her bottom plates and the ship crashed head on against the precipitous base of the 1600 foot Mountain.

Cresting breakers nipped at her stern with terrific force. With only a ballast of cement to keep her steady, she worked unceremoniously on the jagged teeth beneath her.

Captain Owen Williams, master of the stricken ship, was aware of his hazardous position. Little time was lost in shooting a line to the rocks, where willing shoreside dwellers had arrived to make it fast. All 21 crewmen reached the rocks safely. Those aiding in the rescue had plenty of questions, but Captain Williams remained silent as did the other officers. There was no mistaking the odor of liquor on many of the survivors. Some were actually said to have been drunk.

Local Report:

Unpleasantly flat today on the ocean. With the negative tide and low wind