BAY MAN ON COOS BAY, THE WATER AROUND NORTH BEND

Who’s a bay man? I’m a bay man, and here’s why:

Born on San Francisco Bay.

Raised on Coos Bay.

Married a woman named Bayes.

Three for three settles it for bay man.

I can smell bay from here by just looking at the top pic, and it’s comforting.

My dad was a farm boy who grew up around cows and pigs, barns and fields. He got a good sniff of that life.

He started out in a company-owned logging town before his mom and dad moved their kids to the country. As a result he was a man who knew how to run a chain saw, plow a field, and milk a cow.

While he was a farm kid he and his family used to go to the coast and dig clams.

As things turned out, he was a bay man too, a very enthusiastic one.

Why enthusiastic?

He had choices of where to live after graduating from college and finding a job with a territory. Living on Coos Bay reflected his memories of logging towns, farms, and salt water.

The man built his own boat to ferry us all across Coos Bay from the Empire boat ramp. The destination was the clam-infested low tide mudflats on the other side.

To us kids making the run with him he was part sea captain, explorer, and clam expert.

His enthusiasm doubled with an open front tri-hull Larson boat, a big Mercury outboard, and homemade crab rings. It tripled when he decided to take the boat out on the open ocean for salmon.

Things changed when he moved inland to Eugene.

Life Changes For Bay Man

My dad developed heart issues after he moved away. It was a move forced by his job. If that hadn’t happened he’d have been a North Bender for life.

In an odd coincidence I developed a heart issue the last time I visited Coos Bay.

As a North Bend Bulldog, I blame the town of Coos Bay.

Coos Bay, the town not the real bay, had always been the definition of the evil empire growing up. Their high school teams, the Marshfield Pirates, were always bigger, faster, stronger.

Their gym trophy case included future college and NBA player Mel Counts, and later track star Steve Prefontaine.

History seemed to favor Coos Bay.

From oregondiscovery.com:

Native Americans called Coos Bay home for thousands of years. Tribesmen fished, hunted, and gathered berries and roots along the Bay in blissful isolation until the 16th century when British and Spanish explorers started trickling in. In 1579, a British explorer Sir Francis Drake took a shelter near Cape Arago. In 1826 and 1828, the area was explored by fur traders.

However, the first European settlement in Coos Bay occurred in 1851 when shipwreck survivors established “Camp Cast-Away” there until rescuers came. While living in the camp, they traded with Indians. Upon arrival, they told other settlers about friendly local tribes and the area’s great natural resources. In 1853, the first permanent settlement was formed at Empire. Native Americans were forcibly relocated by European settlers in the 1860s.

Making Your Own History

My sporting life peaked in the Marshfield gym in 1973 where I won a gold medal as the Oregon greco-roman wrestling champion at 190 lbs.

I’ve done sporty things since, but standing on the top step of the podium inside the sacred fortress of the evil empire that was Marshfield high school felt unreal.

While not on the same level as a national championship, a world championship, Olympic gold, a Super Bowl win, or World Series victory, it was all that and more at the time.

This is something to remember when you hear people talking about their Glory Days.

Not everyone makes it to what anyone else considers the Big Time. So before you tune out on anyone, consider this:

The big time happens for everyone right where they are.

It could be T-Ball, youth soccer, high school water polo; it’s wherever the light goes on for one person who experiences the emotions of being ‘good enough.’

Not the greatest, not better than everyone, but good enough in a particular moment to feel the shine of accomplishment, like dominating the basketball court at 24Hr.

The glow lasts a lifetime, but we learn to tone it down for fear of understating the fact that we’ve all moved on.

I can look back, and when I do I see a similar glow on other people. If it’s the same with you, why not keep a soft polishing cloth handy to shine things up in dark times.

That’s what a bay man knows to do. Now you know, too.

Cheers to Coos Bay on a shiny day.