Smugglers Cove

 

 

“There it is!” Jack squawked, motioning toward the window.

 

Larry frowned. “Shit! Here we go again.”

 

Reggie crumpled the Pabst Blue Ribbon aluminum can with one hand and tossed it into a pile of beer cans in the corner of the living room. “I’m going outside to take another look.”

 

Reggie exited the rented vacation beach house through the side door.

 

“Shit!” Larry said, following him.

 

Jack scooped up the tripod-mounted telescope and lumbered out the door to the deck. He set it up again and used the viewfinder to site the light. The stars sparkled overhead, and a full moon reflected in the ocean water, revealing crisp rolling waves making for shore.

 

“The light’s gone again,” Jack said. “It was there a minute ago.”

 

“I’m telling you it’s a fishing boat,” Larry said, slurring his words over his can of beer. “See over there? And over there? And look over there.” He pointed in three directions toward the short horizon, limited by the black waters. “They’re all fishing boats.”

 

“Nah, this one’s too close, and it’s between Twin Rocks,” Jack said. “No fishing boat is going in there. Hell, there’s no fish in there, and crab traps would be pounded to pieces in those rough waves.”

 

Larry strained to see the two giant monoliths, jutting out of the surf like pyramids eroded over the centuries. In the moonlight, he could just make out the silhouettes and the space separating them, barely large enough for a Dory to enter. He knew any decent-sized fishing boat would be tossed against the roots of the rocks hiding under the shallow water.

 

Reggie, a twenty-something college dropout, tugged at his rust colored hair. The warmth of six beers fortified him in his underwear in the night’s cool summer breeze. “Man, I‘ll bet you it’s smugglers. I had a friend who was in the Coast Guard Reserve, and he says the Guard is always catching these little boats trying to smuggle drugs from Mexico.”

 

“Oh man, don’t start with that smuggling conspiracy crap again,” Larry said. “How could smugglers get into the country when the government has beefed up security to keep terrorists out?”

 

But Jack liked the drug smuggling scenario. He ran his hand across his buzz cut, liking the tingling sensation produced by the stubby hair against his fingertips.

 

“Jeez Larry, where’s your sense of adventure,” Reggie said. “We should go check it out, man.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “How we going to do that, Reggie?”

 

“Yeah, wise guy,” Larry said. “I’m not swimming out there in the dark.”

 

“We wouldn’t do it in the dark, we’d do it in the daytime, idiot.” Reggie smirked after one-upping his pal.

 

“I’m with yah,” Jack said. “There must be some way to get out there. Other than swimming, I mean.”

 

Larry took another swig of beer and postured himself for the challenge. “Well, if you two morons can figure a way to get there without getting killed, I’ll go along just to shut you up about that damn light.”

 

“Look, there it is again,” Jack said.

 

They looked toward Twin Rocks. A dim light radiated between the two outcroppings. Jack sited the telescope and began a series of motions designed to pull the image into view. It took a few minutes and a few choice curse words before he was able to lock onto the target.

 

Larry made several ill-conceived comments insisting that the light glistened much further out past the rocks. His other theory suggested the image was nothing more than the moonlight reflecting against the dark glassy sheen of the ocean.

 

“Take a look for yourself, wise guy.” Jack stepped back and waved his hand toward the telescope.

 

Larry strained his eye against the lens. His smirk transformed into a frown. “There’s something metallic out there. I can’t tell what it is. It could be a boat, I guess. But why would anyone want to get caught between those two rocks in the middle of the night?”

 

“I got it,” Reggie said, angling for a look through the telescope. “Let’s buy us a boat tomorrow and go see.”

 

“What?” Larry said. “No way.”

 

Reggie looked up from the telescope and smiled. “Are you chicken, Larry? You said you’d go out there if we could find a safe way. A boat is a safe way. We could get a life jacket and some water wings for you if you’re scared.”

 

Jack took the scope from Reggie and gave it another quick look. “Com’on Larry. There could be treasure out there. Maybe some modern day pirates stashed their loot.”

 

Larry laughed at this.

 

Jack scratched his head. “Okay, maybe it is drugs. What else would somebody want to sneak in?”  Jack let the question sink in for a minute. “Maybe there’s a reward for tipping off the Coast Guard. And if there isn’t, maybe we just keep the dope for ourselves.”

 

“You’d think the Coast Guard would check spots like that,” Reggie said. “My friend in the Reserve said they had a route of places along Oregon they checked on a regular basis. Same thing in California and Washington.”

 

The three increasingly drunken young men discussed the possibility: “How could the Coast Guard get in there to take a look? . . . They’d have to send a diver in . . . That could be dangerous . . . They have those little rubber rafts with motors, man; they could be in there easy . . .  Maybe a helicopter could lower one of us onto the rock to, you know, sort of look around.”

 

In the end, they decided maybe the Coast Guard was understaffed and Twin Rocks wasn’t a priority.

 

***

 

 The next morning they ate packaged donuts, washed them down with stale beer, and set off to buy a boat.

 

The trip proved to be arduous and expensive. The local hardware store didn’t carry watercraft of any kind. The nearest marina rented boats to take into the bay, but not trailers. Several hours and fifty miles later they settled on a fifteen-foot canoe bought at a big box discount store in Astoria.

 

It was about five o’clock when the three adventurers hauled their four hundred and fifty-dollar canoe over the white sand toward the surf. The plan was to verify its sea worthiness and make a stealth investigation early the next morning.

 

As Larry struggled to get the canoe’s bow into the incoming tide, he noticed the beach was deserted.

 

 “At least there won’t be any witnesses if we kill ourselves,” Larry said.

 

Jack tossed a paddle into the canoe. “Hey, where is everybody?”

 

“Probably at the Crab Derby in Nehalem Bay,” Reggie said.

 

 Reggie knew that every year tourists flocked the two miles North to Garibaldi‘s Crab Derby. Tags, prizes written on them, pinned to the crustaceans, attracted hordes of fun seekers.

 

 “Hey, if this thing works, why don’t we try to land on the rock now,” Reggie said.

 

“It beats getting up at the crack of dawn,” Larry said.

 

The first time they walked the canoe into the ocean, one of them stumbled in a hole, and the wave wrestled it from the other two and sent it back to shore.

 

They tried swimming it out, but it capsized when one of them tried to climb over the top. On the third attempt, Reggie managed to climb in and the other two pushed the long canoe over the waves. Reggie guided it with his paddle, stroking and willing the canoe deeper into the surf. Reggie shifted his weight as the slimmer Jack crawled in at the opposite end.

 

Larry, a bit huskier than Jack, struggled to get over the side, so Reggie grabbed his arms and yanked him in as Jack stayed back to counter their weight. About the time Larry was able to speak a word of thanks, a rogue wave slammed against the now sideways canoe. Reggie had abandoned his makeshift rudder position to help Larry.

 

They re-floated the canoe and repeated the drill. Reggie steered the bow into the surf and Jack yanked Larry into the canoe. Larry grimaced as the front end of the canoe lifted high and breached as the wave rolled under it, nearly concussing the three would-be sailors.

 

Larry howled. “Jeez, Reggie, could you slam into a few more waves? I still have a few parts of my body that aren’t bruised.”

 

“It’s not my fault,” Reggie said. “I don’t think canoes are built for the ocean.”

 

 The paddlers had killed a couple six-packs earlier, but the buzz was wearing off. The imagined adventure had turned into a ‘what in the hell are we doing out here?’ concern of self-preservation.

 

None of them would admit to being scared. They churned toward Twin Rocks, steering the canoe at such an angle that it rode the waves like a mild carnival ride.

 

 When they were a few hundred feet away from the rocks, Reggie stopped paddling and surveyed the area. It was a perfect setup for someone wanting to hide something. The smaller rock shielded the larger one from prying eyes from the shore. The smaller rock also extended a long finger toward the ocean, and Reggie could see a narrow channel that might allow a boat to enter, protected from the swirling waves.

 

 “It looks like there might be a cavern inside that large rock,” Reggie shouted, over the clamoring waves. Can’t tell how far back it goes.”

 

  Larry and Jack nodded, their faces a little more serious now.  “You guys want to give it a try?” Jack shouted.

 

“Beats trying to get this thing out here again,” Reggie said.

 

As they came around to the larger rock, Reggie noticed the waves were more active on the right side of the big rock. “No way to get around and come in the other way,” he said.

 

“What?” Larry shouted, over a crashing wave.

 

“Nothing,” Reggie said. “Looks a little rough in close to the big rock. Let’s angle to the left and come in next to the other one.”

 

“Okay,” Larry said, serious now as the waves relentlessly pounded against the rocks. His eyes widened and deep lines of concentration chiseled his face.

 

“Check!” said Jack.

 

Reggie couldn’t believe it. Jack was smiling. Was he that stupid or still plastered?

 

The three paddled madly toward the smaller rock. But the currents pushed them away and toward the larger rock and much larger waves. Before they could react, the waves screamed around the rock and thrust them skyward.

 

The canoe spiraled airborne like a football and smacked on a rock outcropping. The  impact sheered the new four hundred and fifty-dollar canoe in half.

 

Larry plunged underwater, and he could feel the currents spinning his body like a rag doll in a washing machine. Somehow, after swallowing a six-pack of salt water, he surfaced and heard the screams of his drinking buddies.

 

“Over here, Larry. Swim this way.”

 

Swim? Larry knew he’d be lucky to stay afloat more than 10 seconds. But his arms and legs didn’t stop to rationalize, making futile attempts to chop through the waves.

 

A water funnel siphoned him toward a sodden demise. He thought he was on the edge of the outer current and swam harder to try to get out of the damn funnel. Now, a rag doll again, he twisted in the ocean’s equivalent of a damn spin cycle.

 

As he struggled against the behemoth conduit, a thought came into his mind. Why keep fighting?  Relax.  In a minute it will all be over.  The struggle they call life.  No more working at jobs beneath you.  No family to tell you what a screwup you are.  Just peace and quiet.  Maybe say a prayer just in case?  Probably too late for that.

 

“Dear God . . .”

 

Something hit him in the face. The icy water numbed any feeling, but he knew something hit him and he lunged at it. It was thick and rough and cut his hands as he squeezed harder. The rope dangled him above the vortex like a man defying gravity.

 

“Larry hang on.” It was Reggie.

 

 “I will!” he hollered back. “I will!”

 

Larry submerged again, a death grip on the rope. Again, he surfaced and swallowed saltwater. A stinging pain clutched his side, and he realized Reggie and Jack had pulled him and the rope onto a rock ledge.

 

 “I found this rope at the edge of the rocks,”Jack said . “We thought you were a goner.”

 

“Yeah,” Reggie said.

 

“Yeah, a goner,” Larry said.

 

The three of them watched helplessly as half of a canoe drifted into the spiraling water funnel, spun down, around, and sank in the churning water quicker than a sunset on the ocean horizon.

 

No one said anything for a while. Reggie finally got up and walked toward the cavern. Jack held Larry’s head in his lap. “You gonna be okay?” he said.

 

“I think so,” Larry said, pointing to where the canoe sank. “That could have been me.”

 

“Almost was,” Jack said.

 

“Man we lost our canoe, and now, we’re gonna be the dumb shits that got stuck on Twin Rocks and had to be rescued by the Coast Guard,” Larry said. “On a canoe. The dumb shits rode a canoe to Twin Rocks and got stuck. Hell, it’ll be on the TV news too. It always is. Shit.”

 

“He’s right. We’re going to be on TV,” Reggie said. “But not because we’re dumb shits.”

 

“What?” Larry said.

 

“Come and look at this,” Reggie said. “You won’t believe it.” Jack helped Larry on his feet and they staggered into the cavern. Reggie directed them to a corner, dry and secure from the elements.

 

“Just look at this,” Reggie said, and lifted the lid off  the top of a wooden crate as the three of them gawked.

 

Reggie chuckled. “Larry, I think this answers your question last night about the government’s efforts. I mean, if drug smugglers can dig a tunnel underground from Canada into the United States, this should be no surprise.”

 

Eventually, the Coast Guard spotted and rescued them, but curiously, there was no mention of the air-lift on the TV news. It was seventy-two hours before the event unfolded on television and it went something like this:

 

“In the national news, the FBI arrested five suspected terrorists in a sting operation last night as they attempted to smuggle a cache of weapons into the United States for an attack on American soil.”

 

A film clip showed Larry being airlifted off Twin Rocks in a basket by a Coast Guard helicopter, while Reggie and Jack watched below.

 

“Government officials were alerted to a secret temporary storage area on Twin Rocks in Rockaway Beach by three vacationing men who saw lights at night and . . .”