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Across tUe Bar
By CHALMER D. SINKEY
A surly wind is whipping the mouth of the Columbia River into white-topped furrows. It is mid-January, and the sunshine has a vague, insincere aspect, as though it could hardly wait to duck behind an ominous bank of clouds rolling in from the northeast.
At Point Adams, the U. S. Coast Guard station, storm warnings beat muffled tattoos on the gusts of a rising gale; the blue-uniformed men go about their business with an air of expectancy.
For this is a "Second Tuesday," and every other Tuesday, come rain or shine, the Coast Guard boys load up their small, efficient life-boat, the Triumph, and journey forth eighteen miles at sea. There, opposite the rugged Oregon shoreline, they approach Tillamook Rock.
Nine times out of ten the Triumph rides into heaving swells that break and eddy about the towering rock, like a dizzying maelstrom. Never does the boat make actual contact with any part of this formidable outpost, for there is nothing but sheer, stone-grey walls and the sea rushing in, only to surge out again, as though intent upon keeping this spot apart from all of the rest of the world.
And yet, man has already won, over the sea, for a great light revolves, one hundred and sixty feet up, atop this menacing but natural foundation. Six men spend shifts of lonely days and nights on Tillamook Rock, keeping the light burning, guiding ships that pass; and every sea-faring man knows that were it not for these men, his craft might be added to others that have been dashed upon treacherous shoals in this graveyard of ships.
When the Triumph edges in on the swells, a swinging boom reaches out to grab supplies. Men who are landed or taken from the rock ride a breeches buoy, swung from this same boom. Occasionally the sea is too rough to make even this contact, but the Coast Guard boys always try!
Today when the Triumph goes out across the bar, Movietone News' camera equipment will be tucked in with the mail and supplies. We've been waiting for just such a glowering day to make the trip.
The commanding officer takes a last look at the barometer and signals us aboard. We button up our waterproof jackets, store the cameras solidly into a protected corner, and assume a nonchalant air as the small boat noses out of its mooring.
A powerful surge of motors drones above the wind. Commander McCormick takes a wide stance behind the wheel. "The best boat in the whole service!" he savs
Upper picture, at Tillamook Rock the men and supplies are taken to and fro by
breeches buoy. Lower, every second Tuesday the Triumph edges in on the swells,
to send supplies up on the swinging boom.
International Photographer for April, 1941