The wreck of the Glenesslin

After finishing my neurology training, I joined a group practice associated with Good Samaritan Hospital in Portland. As part of the décor for my new office, I picked out several old photographs from the archives at the Oregon Historical Society showing ships in late 19^th and early 20^th century Oregon. At the time I knew nothing about the history of this ship in full sail coming dangerously close to the shore. I later learned its fascinating story.

The Glenesslin was a steel-hulled, square-rigged sailing ship built in England in 1885. Around the turn of the century, it was one of the fastest square-riggers in the world.  In 1902 it set a speed record sailing from Portland to Port Elizabeth, South Africa, in 74 days. By the time of its demise in 1913, sailing ships had largely been replaced by steam-powered vessels.  A competent crew for sailing ships was hard to find. The first and second mate of the Glenesslin were only 22 years old.

On a clear, sunny day on October 1, 1913, spectators on the beach were surprised to see a fully rigged ship sailing close off Cape Falcon on the northern Oregon coast.  Suddenly the ship turned towards the shore and still with all sails flying rammed into the rocks at the base of Neakahnie Mountain. The steel hull burst and was quickly flooded. A line was thrown ashore and secured by a growing crowd on the beach that included several photographers.  The master, two mates, and 21 crew all got ashore without injuries, but the ship was a total wreck. Bystanders reported smelling alcohol on the breath of the crew. The master and mates refused to explain the circumstances of the wreck, and several theories were advanced over the years. A Court of Inquiry consisting of the British consul and two British sea captains blamed the master and mates. The master and second mate had their papers suspended, and all were admonished for allowing the crew to be drunk. A more nefarious theory claimed that the wreckage was a planned insurance fraud.  The ship was not carrying any cargo at the time, and it seemed that sailing ships were rapidly becoming obsolete.  Litigation with the insurance company went on for months, but ultimately the owners were reimbursed for the full value of $30,000. Nothing of value was salvaged from the wreck. Perhaps the most likely cause of the grounding was the inexperience of the crew combined with a loss of wind that made the ship unable to come about so close to the shore.  The mystery about its demise will most likely never be solved.

Last week, Lois and I and our dog Jack made a day trip to visit the site of the Glenesslin wreck. Cape Falcon and Neakahnie Mountain lie within Oswald West State Park, a few miles south of Cannon Beach.  A half mile hike from the parking lot through a forest of fir and spruce trees ends up on Short Sands Beach where there is a beautiful view north to Cape Falcon and Neakahnie Mountain. There is nothing left of the Glenesslin to see. The only watercraft now are surfers, but it is not hard to imagine what must have been an incredible sight of one of the last square-rigged sailing ships aground on the rocks.

My main source for this post was Shipwrecks of the Pacific Coast by James A. Gibbs (no apparent relation) published by Binford & Morts, Portland, in 1957, reprinted in 1971, pages 114-117. A more recent source was a 2009 article in the Tillamook Headlight Herald.