Tuesday, November 9, 2021

Thar She Blows! - November 9, 2009

 

(Written with David Price.)

Here's a scenario for you: It's Thursday, November 12, 1970. You're in Lane County, Oregon, and decide to get a start on the weekend by spending a delightful afternoon in the lovely little coastal town of Florence.

Perhaps you're with that special someone, hand-in-hand, taking that clichéd "
walk along the beach." You notice there's a bit of a funny smell in the air -- something like rotting fish -- but it's not enough to deter your enjoyment.

Suddenly, in the middle distance, you hear a mysterious explosion. "That's odd," you think. "What could be blowing up?" Sand begins to rain down on you; an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one. 

But then you start to notice that that "sand" is way too icky, sticky, gooey -- and smelly -- to be merely sand. You're no expert, but you have a sickening sense that those gelatinous bits that are suddenly covering your body aren't jelly, either.

What you've managed to luck into is the day the
Oregon Department of Transportation tried to dispose of an eight-ton sperm whale that had washed ashore on the Florence beach. Having little experience with dead cetaceans, the wise authorities of the State Highway Division decided that the best way to get rid of a rotting whale carcass was not to bury it in the sand or to tow it away. No, their solution was to take a half-ton of dynamite and blow the poor creature's remains sky high.

The idea was that the whale would be rendered into bite-sized pieces, providing local
carrion-eaters with meals for weeks and saving the state a bundle of dough in disposal charges. 

Unfortunately, that plan of attack didn't go so well. 

Instead of disintegrating the blubbery blob, the explosion left the whale mostly intact, while hurtling whale parts up to a quarter mile from "ground blubber." Lucky spectators found themselves speckled with cetacean bits, chunks landed perilously close to nearby buildings, and one massive fleshy piece crushed a car.

The story remained something of a local legend for two decades, until columnist
Dave Barry wrote about the incident. While many dismissed the story as merely an urban legend, Barry was able to prove the story happened through the use of one of the many video clips that, in the intervening years, have become available on the Internet.

In the nearly four decades since the event, the
Oregon Parks and Recreation Department has changed its whale-disposal policy: they no longer blow them up; they either bury the whales where they land, or "relocate" them to another beach. 

It's a shame, though, because you really can't watch a video like this too many times.

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