Sea-Doo, Sea-Don’t.

The day started out very hopeful, as most adventures do, loading up the two Sea-Doos in the back of our trailer. My husband who is not keen on water, decided to attend out of a desire to photograph the event. The previous night, my father had dropped two large crab pots in the Nestucca Bay, and our goal was to retrieve them and enjoy a seaside crab boil on the sands of Tierra Del Mar that evening. The roads leading through the picturesque town of Pacific City were clear with blue skies and sun rays peeking through the trees. My dad was blasting Bob Seger through the speakers getting us in the appropriate mood. We arrived at the mouth of the bay shortly and smoothly launched one of Sea-Doos into the surf. My dad hopped on, with me following holding tightly to his back. I was thankful for my wet suit as my feet swept the icy rim of the Pacific Ocean water. We looked back at my husband with his camera already clicking, in reassurance that we would be back in 20 minutes. He wished us luck, and with that we were off.

            The bay was calm and unsuspecting as we zoomed high speed through the water making currents that disrupted the surrounding wildlife. The Oregon coast has always been a place of peace for my family and I, and today was no different, or so I thought. Within five minutes we had landed at the buoy that marked our first crab pot. My instructions were simple: hook the cable line to the back of the Sea-Doo. As my dad circled the buoy, I became increasingly frustrated as there was not a lot of give to the cable. My dad and I clumsily switched places on our watercraft so he could give it a go. He was able to secure the line, and we relished in the short-lived joy. We soon realized that as the Sea-Doo was floating away from the buoy, its back end was simultaneously being pulled down towards the ocean floor like a lead weight. In a moment of panic, my father shouted for us to jump, and we abandoned ship, plunging into the freezing water. And there we watched in a moment of silence as our beloved Sea-Doo slowly became a point in the water, like a hidden ice cap in the middle of summer. My father let out some choice words, while we floated in the middle of the bay in shock. Suddenly 10 feet in front of us, two eyes on a sleek brown body popped up. A seal had come to investigate the commotion in his bay. We looked at each other, and looked at him, and then suddenly broke out in laughter. We couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation as we swam towards the shore.

            The shoreline felt miles away, when in reality it was likely only a quarter mile swim. I was swimming harder than I had in my whole life when I heard my dad laughing and calling my name behind me. I turned my head to see him 10 feet behind, walking. I quickly realized I had been swimming my heart out in the shallows. Once we made it to the bank, we looked out to see a small point in the water next to our buoy. Our Sea-Doo, may she rest in peace. Panic slowly started to return as we looked back in the direction of our car, realizing we were on the opposite side of the bay and nearly 2 miles away. Our 20-minute trip had quickly expanded, and we had no way to alert my husband. I felt as though he would surely think we were swallowed up by the sea. Then to our elation, we saw a dory boat headed our direction. My dad and I frantically waved our hands and jumped up and down as he approached. I have never been so happy to see a fisherman in my life. Our hero helped us climb up the side of his boat as we explained our predicament. He offered to tow the sunken Sea-Doo to shore, and we set off back to the scene of the incident. The cable was still attached to the Sea-Doo keeping it 90% submerged underwater. My dad had a very cool James Bond moment where he dove into the water with a knife and cut the cable, freeing the Sea-Doo from its watery grave. Our fisherman hero towed it to the nearest shore and got us back to safety. Suffice it to say that pulling up to my husband in a completely different water vehicle than we left in, was very puzzling to say the least.

We shared our adventure with him on the short drive home to Tierra Del Mar, feeling the residual effects of adrenaline coursing through our veins. As we pulled up to our beach house, my mom stepped out with the same perplexed expression we had seen on the face of our seal friend. The crab-less feast that evening was a joyful celebration of our survival, and the Sea-Doo, may it rest in peace, was left behind as a cautionary tale of the dangers of the deep.

Sears, Diana. Tierra Del Mar Tales. 2005. 2nd ed., 2023.