We’re in Port Orford for a few days, where we come to our little cabin every couple of weeks when we’re not traveling elsewhere. This afternoon we walked down to our favorite beach to savor the ever-changing ocean and fab views, but sadly for the first time without Little Man. This time of year, after big winter and spring storms, the beach is always changing; new driftwood piled up, the sand gets rearranged, the creek outlets meander, and sometimes there’s things to be found on the beach, like this deeply rusted lump of iron Stephanie spotted among the rocks. She said I should shoot it and put it up on CC and have you all guess what it is. But it’s way too easy for that; the distinctive shape of a classic Ford flathead V8 is obvious even if it’s become profoundly misshapen by the rust of its many decades-long bath in the salty ocean.
The real question is: how did it get up here, some distance from the water’s edge?
Here’s where we found it, up in some rocks just below the cliff. That’s Port Orford in the back; our place is up there on the heads, just to the left of the cell tower barely visible above the tops of the trees on the right. It’s just a 10-15 minute walk down here. And that’s Wanda, our rent-a-dog (our Eugene neighbor’s dog) who likes to accompany us on hikes and to PO, especially now that Little Man is no longer with us.
Here’s the dear old fellow on March 10, at almost the same spot on the same beach. He was declining fast, and we decided to bring him out one more time. We had to drive down to the beach.
But this beach was his favorite, and he made it about half way down before turning back.
In his bed in the cabin, with a space heater to keep him warm. He was 13 and a half, which was a bit beyond the usual lifespan for his breed. And he was still happy and engaged right to the end even if he needed help getting up.
This is a painful shot to see now again; it was a few days later at home in Eugene, taken just an hour or so before the vet came over to euthanize him. He just couldn’t get up anymore; I had to carry him outside to relieve himself. Son Ted came down from Portland and daughter Emma came over. I know that putting down any dog is hard, but this was extra difficult as LM was our last living connection to son Will, who passed away two years ago. He was so happy to see the two of them; he loved being in the company of family and friends.
LM had been his dog, but he wasn’t able to keep him, as his life was way too chaotic. So we had to rescue him; that was eleven years ago, when he was two. Here’s Will with LM in the same spot in our kitchen in front of the gas stove. And that’s Dolores, Stephanie’s mom, who passed away in December, just shy of her 98th birthday. She was as sharp as ever, right to the end when a stroke took her very quickly. She died peacefully at her home surrounded by her family. Just like Little Man. All three of them are now gone.
With all of them we were prepared and their deaths were peaceful. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Loss is a bitch. And although we’re doing ok, the grief bombs strike unexpectedly from time to time. The periods in between are getting longer, but they still come. The holes all three left are big. But to live is to die. Hopefully it’s after a long and full life like Dolores and LM had.
LM was such a great companion. He loved to hike; how many mountain tops did he scale with us? Hundreds. Here we are on one some years back when we were both younger. He could be a handful when he was young, but he settled down and became quite the gentleman in his old age. Just like most of us; at least those that make it that far. Or chose to make it so far, which isn’t everyone. Will just couldn’t get there; he didn’t really want to, actually, and that was apparent already as a child. He never wanted to do the hard part of living, always taking the easy way out, right to the end.
Enough of that; back to that Ford flathead V8 block.
Here’s the view from the other direction. There is a shipwreck out in those rocks there; on very low tides pieces of its iron hull appear. And I picked up a loose piece of cast iron once. But how did this engine block get up here? And was it connected to that ship?
The Cottoneva wrecked here on the beach in 1937, when a strong storm wind knocked her bow around in the bay. She was a wooden steamer carrying lumber, which had been removed when this picture was taken. But I don’t see how a Ford flathead fits into the picture; did they use gas engines for the hoists and such?
In any case, it’s obviously been in the ocean a long time, given how badly eroded the block is. I have to assume a couple of people carried it up here, as it sure wasn’t tossed here by the waves, even though they can get very powerful in a storm. And this happened just in the past month or so, as it was definitely not here when we were here with LM on March 10.
We found these pieces nearby. Related to the Ford? Someone obviously laid them all here for others to see. And to try to figure out the puzzle of what they are.
It’s a bit of a mystery, but it’s survived against the odds. Iron is more durable than flesh, but even it is subject to the forces of decay.
Looks like a great candidate for a rebuild and blueprinting.
Very interesting story, except for the sad parts. Sorry for all of that.
I’m so sorry Paul. This is sad news, for all of us.
Rust has such a way of making man-made, appear so natural and organic again.
Sure looks like someone discovered the old flathead block not far in the water (that shipwreck from 1937 would be the most likely culprit) and was just messing around by dragging it up the beach.
As to the demise of a cherished pet (especially a dog), it’s one of the most hearbreaking things a human can experience. They ask for so little and give so much in return.
Good to see you still going Paul ;
Life can be *very* trying .
-Nate
Sorry for the loss of your family member pet.
Bet that V8 was literally and figuratively a boat anchor. There’s a 6 cyl block of some kind that was used as an anchor by someone at the shore by our VT cottage and left there abandoned for a long time. No-one will admit to it so it will be there a lot longer to trip over, It needs to be marked.
I saw an engine block on the beach just north of Florence. Looked similar, but I can’t find the photo until I can remember exactly when I did that hike.
I have been exploring a lot on the bike this spring and finding trash and treasures all over. Here’s yesterday’s find. A sad end for a musical instrument.
The association of dogs to events and people is so strong. Every hike I do, and I hike every day, I am accompanied by my somewhat faithful companion. I am sorry for the loss of yours and know that he had a special life.
Ironically, I was just cleaning up and sorting through photos, and was reminded of how much loss I have in the past few years, including our dog of 14 years. Life’s milestones are not always easy.
My condolences on your family’s loss.
I am so very sorry for the loss of Little Man.
A car was abandoned on the beach many decades ago and this is what remains… We have dozens of them on New York beaches…
Losing a beloved pet is so difficult. My heart goes out to all of you. Little Man’s expression tells you that he was a dear friend. I offer this cartoon. Sorry, but it brings tears.
Tears are good, as is that lovely cartoon.
This, for me, was incredibly hard to read, even as beautifully, as economically, as it was written.
I know none of the players in real life, but, after so long here, I feel like I might.
Vale, Little Man. Vale, his young owner who couldn’t, Will.
And nothing but the kindest thoughts for Stephanie and Paul.
Sic transit gloria mundi.
Paul and Stephanie, I am sincerely sorry about Little Man. Unfortunately, pets don’t live as long as humans. I know how you feel. I lost my Lola last November. She had an aggressive brain tumour that snuffed her out at the age of six, which was far too young.
Bagel the Wonderdog is now over fifteen years old. She doesn’t get around too well and she won’t be with us much longer. I don’t have the courage to have her put down, at least not yet.
There is some good out of this. A friend of mine volunteers at an animal shelter in Mexico. Vicki came to live with me soon after Lola’s departure. She is also a rescue and she is a very sweet pup.
I can’t live life without a dog. They are the best companions you could ever ask for.
So sorry to hear about your recent losses – Stephanie’s mom and LM. I think this is one big reason we have not become pet owners in our empty nest phase. I like the lack of responsibility, but avoiding this kind of loss is no small thing.