Document text
Ship to shore: Bringing huge freighters into Coos Bay is tricky business Commentary From the deck of a 30-foot salmon troller the mouth of Coos Bay looks large and the waves imposing. From the bridge of a 639-foot freighter, Coos Bay looks like a puddle. By Russell Sadler Coos Bay does not get as many ships as it used to. Log and lumber ships made up most of the port's shipping. Weyerhauser and other private timberland owners liquidated their coastal old growth forests and shipped most of the logs to Japan in the 1970s and 80s. Few log ships dock in Coos Bay anymore. In their place, Coos Bay and the Columbia River ports all the way to Portland, get freighters like the New Carissa -- 639 feet long -- shipping bulk cargo like wood chips and wheat from shallow water ports on the West Coast to shallow water ports in Japan and the rest of Asia. This trade is likely to survive because it is not cost efficient to relocate the dockside infrastructure -- roads, railroads, terminals, cranes and warehouses -- to deeper water on both sides of the Pacific. Ships in this shallow water trade are getting bigger to carry more cargo efficiently, but not so big they can no longer navigate shallow water ports in the United States and Asia. Getting a 639-foot ship across the bar into Coos Bay is a precision exercise with very little room for mistakes. This columnist's trips with a Coos Bay pilot bringing some of these ships over the bar several years ago was an unparalleled experience. The pilots cross the bar in their own tugboat and meet the incoming ship about three miles out to sea. The tugboat's captain pins the bow of his boat against the lee side of the freighter's hull and the pilot steps from the bow of the tug and climbs a 50-foot sheer steel cliff on a ladder made of wood and rope -- all without getting wet feet! From the deck, newer ships have an elevator to the bridge where the pilot guides the ship into port while the ship captain watches. From the pitching deck of a 30-foot salmon troller the mouth of Coos Bay looks large and the waves breaking over the bar imposing. From the bridge of a 639-foot freighter, Coos Bay looks like a puddle. Capt. Steve Sweet, one of Coos Bay's veteran bar pilots, says he even had one ship captain refuse to allow his ship into the bay. He could not imagine there was enough water for the pilot to maneuver. Once inside the bay, ships bound for the upper harbor must navigate a narrow railroad swing bridge then duck under the magnificent arches of the Conde McCulloch bridge that carries Highway 101 over the bay. From the bridge of a seagoing vessel, the highway bridge looks very close. A decade ago, the stern ramp of a roll-on-roll-off cargo vessel actually struck the underside of the McCulloch bridge. Larger ships like the New Carissa do not attempt the upper harbor. They load cargo at a chip dock on the bay side of the North Spit downstream from the highway and railroad bridges. Watching this deft piloting in a very narrow channel from the bridge of the ship is an extraordinary experience, especially when a wind is blowing. It is the skill and experience of the pilots that prevent more frequent accidents. Waiting for the bar pilots to come aboard, ships usually continue maneuvering at sea three miles offshore. For reasons that are not yet clear, the New Carissa's captain, Benjamin M. Morgado, anchored when it arrived offshore last Thursday morning about 3 a.m. Coast Guard records show gale warnings were posted for 21-foot waves and winds up to 35 knots. The ship's subagent in North Bend says the pilots decided Wednesday night to wait until morning to make a decision about taking the ship into the port. Coos Head overlooks the bar at the entrance to Coos Bay. Below the Coast Guard observation tower is a popular gathering spot for fishermen and those who like to watch ships and boats cross the bar in bad weather. Capt. Sweet arrived at Coos Head before dawn to evaluate the chances of bringing the New Carissa in. Waves up to 25 feet high were sweeping the bar. The pilot's tugboat could not get out. The pilot told the ship he would check conditions again at low tide around 9 a.m. It is still not clear what happened next. Early news reports speculated that between 8 a.m and 9 a.m. the ship tried to raise anchor and was overpowered by wind and waves. More recent news reports say authorities now suspect the New Carissa's single anchor simply dragged under the force of heavy seas. Then wind and waves swept the ship onto the sand of the North Spit. A Coast Guard investigation will try to determine what happened. The consequences, however, are clear enough. The ship's fuel tanks sprang leaks that spread the ship's fuel oil for at least six miles over the North Spit and Horsfall Beach. These are some of the most biologically rich beaches on the Oregon Coast. State fish biologists call Leberti Hole near the grounded vessel a major crab nursery. Zoologists come from as far away as the University of Port Elizabeth in South Africa to stay at the Oregon Institute of Marine Biology in Charleston and study these beaches. The future of this fragile marine environment is the object of a deadly race to burn the New Carissa's remaining 400,000 gallon of fuel oil before the next winter storm batters the ship into more pieces and releases the oil. Human error destroyed a ship and covered these valuable beaches with oil. Human skill prevents it from happening more often. Veteran columnist Russell Sadler teaches journalism and environmental studies at Southern Oregon University in Ashland. Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA