Oregonian File Photo

Smoke lingers from a dynamite blast on Haystack Rock in October, 1968.

It was a foggy morning at Cannon Beach, as a fall chill fell over the coast. As locals woke up and started their days, they were suddenly rattled by a blast from the ocean.

It wasn’t thunder or a crashing wave but an explosion of dynamite on the side of Haystack Rock, one of Oregon’s most beloved natural landmarks. On that day, October 8, 1968, the face of the massive sea stack forever changed.

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Oregon State Archives

Women meet on the sand near Haystack Rock at Cannon beach, in this undated historic photo.

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Oregonian File Photo

Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach was closed to climbers in 1968, when sign prohibiting unauthorized climbers was pounded into rock by Richard S. Rodgers (left) of Federal Bureau of Sport and Fisheries and Wildlife. At right is Cannon Beach police chief John West.

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Of course, the facelift was only minor. Officials were blasting a rock ledge off the northern face, in an attempt to dissuade climbers who over the years had found a way to crawl up it. In 1967, Haystack Rock was named a national wildlife refuge, and those climbers threatened the security of newly-protected birds that nest there annually.

To protect the wildlife they had to sacrifice a piece of the rock, refuge manager Richard Rodgers told the Seaside Signal newspaper that morning, as he watched the work in progress. It was a sound idea, but the blast didn't quite go according to plan.



The crew consisted of two men from Eugene, who were delayed by the fog and arrived more than an hour late, according to the Signal. Once they got started, the initial explosion went off without a hitch, echoing through the town half an hour later. But as they continued working through the morning another problem arose: the tide.

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Jamie Francis/The Oregonian

Western Gulls and other sea birds flock above Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach.

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Jamie Francis/The Oregonian

A man makes his way through the intertidal areas of Haystack Rock during low tide.

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A reporter with the Signal captured the ensuing scene, in what appears to be the only record of the event:

“Suddenly it dawned on Rodgers. He tried to wade out to warn the men, because he could not be heard above the surf. However it was then chest-high in places and he had to turn back. This was shortly after noon.”

Officials discussed the problem and decided the only solution was to let the two men wait it out. Rescue by boat was ruled out by the rough surf and heavy winds. A helicopter rescue was deemed virtually impossible because of their location on a low, rocky area of the sea stack.

And so the gathered crowd watched helplessly as the two men waved their arms in distress, motioning for someone, anyone to come and save them. Meanwhile their car packed with dynamite was still on the beach, stuck without its keys which remained on the rock.

It wasn’t until 5:30 p.m. that they could finally climb down and wade back to shore, weak and hungry but otherwise unharmed. They got a meal and then went back to work, rocking the town with two more blasts.

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Jamie Hale/The Oregonian

The sun sets over Haystack Rock and Cannon Beach, creating a colorful scene in the surf and sky.

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Steven Nehl/The Oregonian

A black oyster catcher and its chicks nest at Haystack Rock.

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“When asked if the job was done, they regretfully said no,” the Signal reported. “The last two blasts just didn’t do what they were supposed to. So, they will be returning in about two or three weeks to further smooth out the wall.”

In the end, all the blasting did its job to prevent further climbing of Haystack Rock. The men presumably completed the job without another stranding, and the blasts from their dynamite soon faded from mind.

If anyone was grateful for the calamitous affair, it may have been the birds. While the blasts might have scared them away that day, they soon returned to their reliable perch, where they’ve nested without disruption ever since.

--Jamie Hale | jhale@oregonian.com | @HaleJamesB

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Oregonian File Photo

With tennis shoes and sandpail in hand, two girls walk along edge of surf at Cannon Beach in 1968.

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Bruce Ely/The Oregonian

A rainbow appears over Canon Beach and ends at Haystack Rock.