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  • Grove of the Titans Soundwalk
    2025/03/07
    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.com

    For our next series we are going to be exploring various locations in Redwoods National & State Parks. First up, Grove of the Titans!

    The interesting thing about this grove is that it is not on the official Redwood National Park map. That’s because it became too popular in the Instagram and Google maps era. Visitation grew exponentially in the late 2000’s and 2010’s. The bases and roots of the trees were getting trampled. In response, the park service installed 1,500 feet of metal boardwalk in 2019—contributing a signature sound mark to this particular soundwalk.

    The other factor the park service considered in its decision to reduce official visibility of this grove is limited access to the trailhead itself, via Howland Hill Road, an old stagecoach route. On this dusty, winding, single-lane gravel road you can practically reach out the window and touch massive old-growth trees—and cars passing the other direction!

    The truth is, the grove isn’t markedly more spectacular than others in the park, which are easier to visit.

    But there are some unique features. One centerpiece may be Screaming Titans, a fused tree with a diameter of 30 feet, seen from the central platform.

    Another is Chesty Puller, where the boardwalk winds around another fused giant on a slope.

    None of these pictures convey the sense of awe that one feels being here in person.

    What is most distinctive about the soundscape, though, is the absence of sound. We made our visit in the evening, which I’d recommend for the mellow light and the thinned-down crowds on a summer day. Except for the ravens, who add their calls in the final minutes, you’d be hard pressed to pick out other birds, who are sparsely seen but go largely unheard. This surprised me, even in July. My guess is it’s a different story in the early morning.

    But, there is something quieting about the trees themselves, too. The extensive surface area of deeply pitted bark really does dampen sound energy. It’s distinctive for the absence of reverberation that one expects in a grove of trees.

    "The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It's not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time." - John Steinbeck

    The backbone of my score instrumentation is the Hohner Pianet electric piano. Playing off that is a Korg Prototype 8 patch that is sure to cause some lean-back listeners to lean in, on first hearing it. (You’ll have to listen via streaming or consider become a supporting subscriber to get my drift here, as it enters the mix in track 4, about five and a half minutes in.) Lastly, there’s a little upright piano, celeste and dulcimer. In all, quite minimal. That seems to be my trajectory. Less is more, even when there’s no birdsong.

    I hope you enjoy this very quiet soundwalk through Grove of the Titans. It is most certainly not the default vibe here. If you can make the trip, especially in summer, expect plenty of company. This, and other coast redwood groves here are truly wonders of our planet!

    Thanks for listening and reading. I’m thankful for your interest. Grove of the Titans Soundwalk is available on all streaming platforms (Spotify, Apple, Tidal, Amazon, YouTube…) on Friday, March 7th.

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    5 分
  • Coots
    2025/02/28

    My usual approach angles don’t seem to apply here. This is something new. This is Crou.

    I think I’m going to script a conversation, à la NPR. Bear with me. Here goes:

    What is Crou, other than the first four letters of your last name?

    Well, it’s the letters printed on the slip for a reserved library book on the pickup shelves: CROU. It’s a pet name my wife sometimes uses. And, it’s something I want be a placeholder for a side project that isn’t fully defined.

    How do you pronounce it?

    I say “creow”. Like meow. You can saw “creu”, like crew. I guess that’s part of the appeal in the name for me. It’s not fixed.

    You just spun off Listening Spot, right?

    Yes, and I actually used those words, even though they’re giving gimmicky energy. Listening Spot and Crou, and some of the others that have come before could have been projects released under the name Chad Crouch, but I’m already pushing it when it comes to having a “right-sized” release catalog.

    Is there anything different about the music?

    Yes. There are no field recordings with Crou. And, there is, for now, a hint of vocals… Otherwise, pretty similar, really.

    Anything else?

    Hmm… I’ve really been enjoying old photographic images; glass plate negatives, sepia-toned silver gelatin prints; that kind of thing. Might be a visual direction for the project. It is for this release!

    The debut release Coots by Crou is available on all music streaming sites (Spotify, Apple, Amazon, Tidal, etc. Friday, February 28th.

    Earlier this week: Reflecting on some formative New Age exposure.



    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe
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    9 分
  • Preston Island Soundwalk
    2025/02/21
    I haven’t yet said this, but my intention with this and the previous three recordings was a hopscotch survey of Pacific Coast soundscapes. To recollect now, these have been Yoakam Point on the Oregon Coast, Copalis Ghost Forest on the Washington Coast, Keahou on the Big Island of Hawaii and now Preston Island in Crescent City, on the Northern California Coast.This reflection on Preston Island leads me to ponder sites along the lower Columbia River at length, for reasons which will soon reveal themselves.Preston Island is weird. For starters, it’s not what anyone would call an island. You can walk right out onto its strange rocky surface from the mainland. The view from the island is breathtaking though, and I thought it made a better album cover than the island itself: The island is relatively flat, but also boulder-strewn and cracked. When I visited, it was foggy, and I felt like I was on the surface of another planet. Something about it seemed unnatural:It all clicked when I found this historical photo:Preston Island was carted off. It was mined down to a nub. Let’s get our bearings. Here’s an 1880’s Crescent City map, and a modern satellite photo. (I guess cardinal north pointing up wasn’t yet the rule.)On the map you’ll see Preston Island clearly drawn as a landmass, and Hall’s Bluff, appearing much less prominently than it does today. I outlined the locations on the satellite image. Here, all the rock contained in those geographical features was mined and dumped in the ocean in to create the jetty you see on the upper right of the satellite image. They really moved mountains.This is what Preston Island used to look like, and here it is today, courtesy of Google Street View:Our soundwalk takes us from West 6th Street in Crescent City over to the beach and up over what’s now called Half Butte, about where an old photo of Hall’s Bluff (aka Lover’s Rock) was taken in 1876. Look at the tiny figures on top for a sense of scale:The massive Halls Bluff /Lover’s Rock headland, was also carted off to build the jetty. It’s harder to match the original photo vantage point with Street View, but it’s also just completely gone. Ironically, half of Pebble Beach Drive along Half Butte has buckled and subsided. It looks like it could wash out in the next storm surge. The road here is closed indefinitely. But let’s get back to Preston Island, that weird scab-land of a place. Let’s take a closer look at it, because it gives our soundwalk such unique character about 17 minutes in. At a glance, it seems lifeless. A green hue, coming from chalky veins in the rock, adds to the otherworldliness of the landscape.Tide pools form on the perimeter, among the cracks and fissures in the rock substrate. It’s here that I place my recording hat down and the soundscape is instantly transformed. The skitter of crabs and the capillary clicking sounds of tiny shellfish erupt to fill the high frequencies, while the surf sound is attenuated by the topography of the rocks.It’s another world. A 2021 article in the Bandon Western World states, “Preston Island has a long history in Crescent City. Originally Preston Peak, the area was a sacred site for the Tolowa Nation.” It is not well known, but the Tolowa were the subject of the most persistent and possibly worst massacres of Native Americans in the USA, starting in 1853, in the Crescent City area. Now, I couldn’t corroborate the name “Preston Peak”, but I have to admit I was not surprised to hear that a sacred place to Native Americans was destroyed. There have been others.Pillar RockConsider Pillar Rock (briefly “Pilot Rock”) in the Columbia River. Once a monolith upwards of 75 feet tall, it was dynamited and flattened at the 25 foot level to install a navigation light:The Chinookan name for the monolith was Talapus. A cannery built nearby in 1877 used a likeness similar to Talapus for its canned salmon label, Pillar Rock brand. The rock was dynamited by 1922 when, according to the shipping news, a red navigation light was established. Like Talapus, the spring Chinook fishery in the Columbia was a diminished remnant of what it once was when Pillar Rock Cannery suspended operations in 1947.In a surprising epilogue Pillar Rock is still an actively used trade mark today, in 2025. The company now fishes the waters of Alaska for wild Sockeye to fill the modern day tins.It’s remarkable how Euro-Americans changed the landscape and practically wiped out the fishery, but the brand is the thing that perseveres. What does it say about us that this is the way things are?Let’s consider the intriguing story of Mount Coffin, up the Columbia River about 40 river miles.Mount CoffinThe geological feature that was first described to the historical record by Lieutenant William R. Broughton in 1792, and given the name “Mount Coffin”, was a prominent Chinookan canoe burial ground. It would have appeared much the same a half century later, when Charles...
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    32 分
  • Island Dawn Suite
    2025/02/06
    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.com

    Just a quick refresher: My Listening Spot series features one long, stationary environmental recording with a bespoke ambient composition. Peaceful, atmospheric, ambiguous. You’re invited to press play and read on!

    Ah, the South Pacific. Hawaii. The Big Island. It conjures all kinds of idyllic images, sounds, and fragrances: romantic sunsets, palms gently swaying in the tropical breeze, the sound of birdsong and tumbling surf, the fragrance of Plumeria wafting through the air…

    Reality is often different. The traveller may encounter the glaring midday sun, the roar of landscaping machinery, the buzz of AC units, the fragrance of exhaust as vehicles vie for parking at popular beaches.

    Is paradise a myth? Why is it so tantalizing?

    Airbnb will let you allow the traveller to filter accommodations down to the amenity of a hair dryer, but offers little help in for finding a quiet place to stay. Analyzing maps is often more helpful than parsing descriptions.

    I was grateful to find a sleepy 1960’s era condo resort in Keauhou, tucked away from the highway, for our family summer vacation. This soundscape was recorded in the dawn hours of an August morning last year. A little slice of deep island quiet.

    I’m no Hawaii bird expert but I think what we are hearing is the gentle dawn song of Java Sparrows, a bird native to the islands of Java and Bali—where it is now rare—and introduced to Hawaii and elsewhere.

    It’s possible there’s Warbling White-eye or Saffron Finch chiming in, but it’s all new to me, honestly.

    The composition is a little different than my standard fare. There’s a synth pad built from cricket sounds, and there’s another synth pad that has a unique choral timbre… The reverb is bigger, and the harmonic complexity is pushing my comfort zone. That is to say, there’s some dense chords being played here—minor 9th chords, suspended 4ths, and so on—often blurring from one to the other. I’m kind of a lightweight when it comes to harmonics that introduce tension, but I’m curious. All in all, it’s very peaceful and reflective, but also bittersweet; like a Mona Lisa smile painted in sound waves. For an environmental recording from paradise, it’s not exactly what I would call “escapist”.

    Thanks for reading and listening. I’m grateful for your interest. Island Dawn Suite is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms (Spotify, Apple, Tidal, Amazon, YouTube…) Friday, February 7th.

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    6 分
  • Copalis Ghost Forest Soundwalk
    2025/01/31
    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.comI want to tell you a ghost story. But, first a music story. In the music industry the story of an album is told in a “one sheet”. Typically a few paragraphs in length, the one sheet explains the outlines of album personnel, timeline, context, and often place, but not always. There are tropes of course, as it is with any kind of writing: there’s the comeback album, the vision quest album, the concept album, the crisis and/or rebound album, the joined forces album…In the past two years I’ve created 60 soundwalk albums and 0 one sheets. Instead, I first added spoken commentary to the top of podcast versions of the soundwalks. (Think spoken liner notes.) These focused on the place and time the field recording was made, and secondarily offered insights into the composition and instrumentation. When I shifted my podcast over to Substack, I nixed the spoken intro and wrote posts about whatever I found interesting about the various places. I leaned into more research, wanting to understand the places over time. These writings didn’t resemble one sheets at all. Still, I enjoyed the learning that came from them, and I figured the reader could decide whether or not it was of interest to them. I can’t imagine writing all those one sheets. What a chore! And so it goes, the ghost story beats the music story. The ghosts at Copalis are the dead trees, and they provide a 325-year-old link to the geologic history of the Pacific Northwest. The Copalis Ghost Forest is the site geologist Brian Atwater used to prove the theory that the Pacific Northwest periodically experiences megathrust earthquakes that cause powerful tsunamis (like the 2011 Tōhoku Quake in Japan that registered 9.0 on the Richter scale.) But what does that have to do with the music, really? And what does that have to do with the soundscape I recorded on March 26th, 2024?Well let’s just start with a first impression: It’s gorgeous here. The weathered grey stand of snags in the estuary wetland are instantly mysterious, evoking a scene of ruin; an old cemetery of wooden markers in states of advanced decay.Nurse logs play host to a diverse microcosm of life, islands of regeneration.The wildlife in the soundscape evokes that pastoral beauty: the clicky ribbit of Pacific tree frogs, the quiet, glitchy cro-cro-cro of Common Mergansers, the chittery peal of a Belted Kingfisher, and the brisk R2-D2-esque chatter of a Marsh Wren. Then there is the subtle sound of open space and weather, the tapping of an ephemeral rain shower on the tin roof of a fishing shack. Shhhhhh… Being here alone on an overcast day, I felt something akin to the reverence of a pilgrim. This place is a testament to the energy pent up in the Cascadia Subduction Zone, a coiled spring with the force of 25,000 nuclear bombs. Brian Atwater and David Yamaguchi used soil cores and tree ring dating to show that the trees here died in the winter of 1700. They linked this date to a written record of an "orphan tsunami" recorded in Japan on January 26, 1700, suggesting that the land subsided in a great earthquake, drowning the grove in salt water, and sending a tsunami all the way to Japan. He and his colleagues published these findings in Science magazine in 1995.Here is Atwater in 2014, making a short video recounting a Copalis River visit for an 8th Grade class.Putting together the stratigraphic evidence—from landslides in undersea canyons—scientists further revealed the Pacific Northwest experienced major quakes roughly every 200–800 years. Since the 1990’s we’ve known it’s not a matter of if but when. “The Big One” will surely come. So, that’s the story of Copalis Ghost Forest in a nutshell. But being here, well, it’s much less cerebral and more visceral. That’s where music comes in. Music goes where words cannot. For my score I leaned into vibrato drones, plaintive piano, electric piano melodies, lonesome electric guitar, and simmering dulcimer. As always, it’s probably best experienced in headphones or a quiet space. Copalis Ghost Forest Soundwalk is available on all streaming platforms (Spotify, Apple, Tidal, Amazon, YouTube…) on Friday, January 31st. For Further WatchingHere Nick Zenter explains the Copalis Ghost Forest with excellent visual storytelling (but you may want to skip the 30 second intro).
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    5 分
  • Coast Headland Suite
    2025/01/17
    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.comNothing like a trip to the ocean to start a new year! I feel so fortunate to live just over an hour away from one of the most beautiful coastlines on this planet.This recording was made at Yoakam Point, near Coos Bay Oregon, about 4 hours down the coast. It’s a uniquely beautiful sounding surf here, I have to say.And you might think to yourself, all beaches sound nice, Chad. And well, it would be hard-hearted of me to try to argue with you on that point. They all do sound nice, but some just sound more nice. The tuning here must have something to do with the rocks that reach into the ocean lake a giant hand, as if playing the surf like so many harp strings. The scarp ridges reflect the sound waves of the tumbling surf like a giant instrument, but not in a way that sounds like mush. The contours are clean and the details are sharp. If you listen closely you’ll hear the distant moan of a fog horn on the low end (though I did soften it considerably with a low scoop EQ) and the peals of Pigeon Guillemot on the high end of this soundscape. Now if you’re like me, you might wonder, why is it called “Yoakam Point”? And, if you’re like me, not finding an answer at the ready makes this one of life’s little mysteries that needs to be solved. I expected it to be named for some ship captain or crew mate. If not that, then certainly a white man, probably a pioneer or politician, or both. So, wading through numerous Google results for modern country singer Dwight Yoakam, I finally chanced upon a couple fascinating stories tracing the Yoakam surname in Coos County. And, to my surprise these stories enobled no man, but spoke to the perseverance of two generations of Yoakam women. How refreshing!Tragedy of the Burning TreeIn 1855 newly arrived settlers Eliza and John Yoakam lost five daughters to a tree aflame falling on their home, as detailed in this 1906 obituary:In 1855 they moved to a homestead about six miles from Empire City on [what] is now known as the Cammon wagon road.It was here that the awful tragedy of Mrs. Yoakam’s life occurred—one that would only be possible in pioneer days, when a large, burning tree fell with terrific force upon their little cabin, shattering it and instantly killing five of their children, one a babe in its mother’s arms. The accident happened in the evening, when the children were nearly all asleep, and when later the anguished parents searched amid the ruins of their little ones, they found four of them dead where they had slept. Two little boys, Jasper and George, aged 7 and 5 years, still missing, were found in their little trundle bed alive and fast asleep. The branches of the tree had fallen in such a manner as to shield their little bed, and the commotion had not even awakened them. The scene of the accident is known as Yoakam’s Hill, and stately firs, spreading cedars the graceful rhododendron now grow in wild luxuriance where these hapless children lie in their dreamless sleep.The homestead was abandoned, as the poor mother could find no happiness there, and after a few sad months in Empire City and Eastport, they moved to the Coquiller River, where they remained until 1867, when they bought the William Jackson farm on South Coos River, and literally hewed for themselves a home out of the wilderness. In this home probably the happiest years of Mrs. Yoakam s life were spent; other children came to her almost empty arms, and listening to their happy laughter, her old sorrow gradually faded away. For many years “Yoakam’s” was synonymous with good cheer and hospitality.Mrs. Yoakam was a woman of rare type, well fitted by nature for the struggles and adventures of pioneer life. Mr. Yoakam died in 1876, and for many years his widow successfully managed the farm, failing health finally compelling her to leave it. She was the mother of twelve children, five of whom survive her. (Coquille Herald)One of her children, George Yoakam, died in 1901, gored by a neighbor’s wayward bull, leaving his wife Sarah, three daughters and a son. Taking a page from her mother-in-law, Sarah successfully managed the family farm in the wake of the tragedy.Sarah Yoakam Forges AheadThat a woman can conduct a dairy farm most successfully is nicely proved in the case of Mrs. Sarah Yoakam of Coos county, near Marshfield, Ore., whose husband, a prominent rancher, was killed by a vicious bull some thirteen years ago. In the years Intervening since she and her two daughters have conducted and developed the dairy business in which her husband was engaged. For a good share of the time they have done all the work on the farm, including the care of the dairy herd and the securing of the farm crops. (Union Star)Indeed Sarah not only succeeded on her farm, but went on to become a leader in the trade.Sarah Yoakam, who ran her husband’s Coos County dairy upon his death seven years earlier, was voted the ...
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    4 分
  • Forest Stream Suite
    2025/01/02

    Hello. It’s 2025. How can that be? I look at the number and think, that’s a futuristic number. Wasn’t the future supposed to be easier? Something tells me 2025 will not be easy. Still, I’m determined to meet it with can-do attitude.

    For now though, let’s ease into it. With that it mind I chose this recording, Forest Stream Suite. The environmental sound was captured last June in Forest Park, Portland, Oregon; a place we’ll be revisiting throughout the coming year.

    Many of the seasonal streams were, by that time, down to a trickle. The percussive sound at the top of the recording is one such a trickle, a thread of water falling over a stone, as captured by a homemade hydrophone.

    The hydrophone is a simple design incorporating a ~$1 bulk-supply 27mm contact mic, a kombucha bottle screw cap, a coin (for ballast), a 1/8th inch stereo cord, a swatch of duct tape, and a couple dips in liquid plastic. I was instructed in the ways of DIY contact mic wizardry by the gifted sound artist Marcus Fischer at a workshop hosted by Oregon Contemporary about a month prior. Thanks Marcus and Oregon Contemporary!

    Hydrophone recording is something I hope to do more of in the coming year. Maybe I’ll invest in something a little more sensitive. Or possibly a stereo pair?

    The instrumentation follows the pattern of previous Listening Spot releases: One continuous field recording and several distinct musical movements in the same key. With the hydrophone click track as a jumping-off point, this one reaches out its sound tentacles in new directions, without letting go of the familiar.

    There’s some of my favorite wildlife belting it out here: American Robin, Pacific Wren, Wilson’s Warbler, Yellow Warbler… While listening, I can picture the dappled light of the forest.

    Thanks for tuning in. I’m grateful for your interest. Forest Stream Suite is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms (Spotify, Apple, Tidal, Amazon, YouTube…) Friday, January 3rd. I hope you can spend some quiet time with it.

    Lastly, I took some time to write some reflections on my first year of being on Substack a couple days ago. I didn’t send it out as a newsletter, because it was mostly written as an exercise to clarify some things for myself. I’m mentioning it here for those who may be curious about the platform, my impressions as a musician, and some intentions in 2025. Happy New Year!



    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe
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    21 分
  • Warrior Rock Soundwalk Part 2
    2024/12/19
    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.comWelcome back. Let’s finish our stroll along the Columbia and find out more about this intriguing place. In the first installment we learned how Warrior Point got its name, and about and the rock formation that became the geological cornerstone of Sauvie Island. In this conclusion we arrive at Warrior Rock Lighthouse, the smallest lighthouse in Oregon, and the only one in operation far from the coastline. For this installment I must thank the kind folks at warriorrock.org for sharing several hard-to-find photos and shedding light on some scarcely known stories about the lighthouse. Pre-contact The closest Native American village to Warrior Point on Sauvie Island was Namuit, unmentioned by Lewis & Clark, excepting “2 Houses” drawn on a map in the vicinity of the Warrior Point trailhead is today. I suppose it is worth pointing out that “Warrior Rock” and “Warrior Point” describe two different geological places about a half mile away from each other, and are often interchanged. In 1959 amateur archeologist Emory Stone said of Namuit, “Originally a very large village, it is now completely washed away. Banks of camp rock extend for a quarter of a mile along the river bank. Large collections were made from it as it was eroding away about the turn of the century.” He added, “[It] must have been quite old, for traces of fire are found eight or more feet deep beneath the silt.”Warrior Point was a canoe burial ground. Native Americans practiced this form of burial all along the lower Columbia at promontory sites. Canoes were elevated or placed in trees with the dead wrapped in cedar bark blankets with their belongings. The bows of the canoes pointed toward the ocean.John Kirk Townsend described Mount Coffin, a canoe burial site 13 miles downriver, in his 1841 narrative: "[the burial site] consisted of a great number of canoes containing bodies of Indians, each being carefully wrapped in blankets, and supplied with many of his personal effects in the form of weapons and implements...wrapped in his mantle of skins, laid in his canoe with his paddle, his fishing-spear, and other implements beside him, and placed aloft on some rock or eminence overlooking the river, or bay, or lake that he had frequented. He is fitted out to launch away upon those placid streams…which are prepared in the next world.”Warrior Rock LighthouseThe light house was erected in 1889, a wood framed building with a shed roof on a tall sandstone foundation. The original 1500 lb. fog bell, cast in 1855, tolled for 30 years in a lighthouse at Cape Disappointment prior to installation at Warrior Rock. In 1912, the Lighthouse Service requested $2,000 to purchase 1.61 acres near the lighthouse on which stood a “fairly good dwelling,” which was being occupied by the keeper. The desired amount was appropriated on October 22, 1913, and the dwelling and other buildings on the adjoining land were acquired by the government. (lighthousefriends.com)Looking closely at this photo we can see quite a number of buildings, including a large mill building in the right background, where there are now none.When the river was high, the tower’s sandstone foundation and surrounding land would often be underwater. At those times, DeRoy rode an aerial tram he concocted by stringing a cable from a tree near the dwelling to the lighthouse (lighthousefriends.com)Waterway WoesWarrior Rock Lighthouse has seen its share of incidents.1898 - US revenue cutter Commodore Perry ran on a reef a short distance above Warrior Rock. “Pilots familiar with the river always give the reef a wide berth. The steamer Manzanillo had her bottom torn out there 10 years ago, and about 20 years ago the old steamship Sierra Nevada was impaled on the reef.” 1910 - US Lighthouse Tender Heather ran aground on rocks near Warrior Rock. Not badly damaged.1927 - The tug Cricket was sunk near Warrior Rock lighthouse when she collided head on with the steamer Wapama.1928 - A new light to aid river navigation was established on a sunken rock about one fourth of a mile above the Warrior Rock Lighthouse.1930 - The tug Dix which propelled the barge Swan and provided electric current to the floating dance pavilion was found in 50 feet of water a short distance above Warrior Rock lighthouse. Eight people were killed in the collision with the schooner Davenport. 1969 - The lighthouse was struck by a barge. While surveying the damage, the 1500 lb. bell fell to the shoreline and cracked.The bell now resides at the entrance of the Columbia County Courthouse.The current lighthouse owners added, “The lighthouse gets hit by boats more frequently than we would expect. We've heard of two instances in the 90’s.”The Warrior Rock formation creates an unusual depth near shore of about 50 ft. Possibly more. “We've seen fishermen catch and release some crazy huge sturgeon there,” the owners shared. ...
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    5 分