was only the first of six waves to come that night as the tsunami oscillated back and forth down the inlet like soapy swells in a giant bathtub for eighteen hours. Wave number two, which arrived ninety-seven minutes later, was the biggest and most destructive. At 1:20 a.m. a ten-foot (3 m) surge pounded the city like a wrecking ball, picking up all the debris left by the first waveâfishing boats torn free from their docks, floating cars and trucks, buoyant bundles of lumber, thousands of busted-loose two-by-fours and thousands more raw logs,
many weighing several tons apieceâand hurled these projectiles into the low-lying streets of Port Alberni.
As the turbulent seawater climbed the government tide gauge at the rate of one foot (30 cm) per minute, the crew aboard the Meishusan Maru, which had been grounded on a mud flat by the outgoing rush of the first wave, quickly fired up their engines on the second swell, got the freighter off the mud, turned it back toward the main navigation channel, and dropped anchors in a deeper part of the harbor. At the same moment, River Road houses began to float off their foundations. An eyewitness told a newspaper reporter the next day of seeing a large, two-story house drifting down the Somass River. It gradually broke up and sank. At an auto court near the riverbank, the rising swell lifted a row of six small cabins simultaneously.
Mary Rowland, another of the white-haired survivors sitting on a couch in the mayorâs office, told of seeing her neighborâs house being swept away. âJoy Smith had a little store at Beaver Creek and River Road, and she lived across the street in a house. And she had a habit of always having a cup of coffee on the go. It sat on the end of the stove. And so their house went down River Road and into the fieldsâoh, maybe about three blocks or somethingââ
âThe whole house?â I interrupted.
âYeah, and the cup of coffee was still sittinâ on the stove with the coffee in it.â She patted her hands together with a tiny smile. âThatâs how calm it was. It just picked it up, took it along, and sat it down.â
A disaster report from British Columbiaâs Provincial Emergency Program said it was hard to understand why no one got killed. The period of grace between the first surge and the disastrous second was not long enough to get everyone moving toward higher ground. âMany were caught in their homes,â said the report. âThe fast-rising waters knocked out all power and street lighting, so that many waded chest-deep, in the sudden dark, through their yards to safety . . . Even more miraculous were some of the hair-breadth escapes of children. One
man dashed out to save his brand-new convertible only to find a pair of youngsters floating by on a log; he too was chest deep before the trio made it to dry ground. A civil defense worker rowing around in the dark checking houses, flashed his light into one and rescued a baby floating on a mattress.â
Scientists would later confirm that this runaway train of six tsunami waves had rumbled through the night the entire length of the Pacific Ocean from north to south. Four children camping with their parents near a beach on the Oregon coast were swept out to sea and drowned. Northern California got hammered when four of the big swells dragged across the shallow ocean bottom, sheared off, and circled back from the south to smash the seaside town of Crescent City, killing another dozen people. Sadly, several of the deaths in Crescent City were caused by ignorance. In 2008 Bill Parker, a retired civil defense coordinator who had tried his best to get everyone to higher ground, explained what happened when the salty sludge started to recede.
âEverything was a mess,â Parker recalled. âThe streets were loaded with debris. Buildings were shattered; cars were on top of each other.â Then, as the second wave began to ebb, people
many weighing several tons apieceâand hurled these projectiles into the low-lying streets of Port Alberni.
As the turbulent seawater climbed the government tide gauge at the rate of one foot (30 cm) per minute, the crew aboard the Meishusan Maru, which had been grounded on a mud flat by the outgoing rush of the first wave, quickly fired up their engines on the second swell, got the freighter off the mud, turned it back toward the main navigation channel, and dropped anchors in a deeper part of the harbor. At the same moment, River Road houses began to float off their foundations. An eyewitness told a newspaper reporter the next day of seeing a large, two-story house drifting down the Somass River. It gradually broke up and sank. At an auto court near the riverbank, the rising swell lifted a row of six small cabins simultaneously.
Mary Rowland, another of the white-haired survivors sitting on a couch in the mayorâs office, told of seeing her neighborâs house being swept away. âJoy Smith had a little store at Beaver Creek and River Road, and she lived across the street in a house. And she had a habit of always having a cup of coffee on the go. It sat on the end of the stove. And so their house went down River Road and into the fieldsâoh, maybe about three blocks or somethingââ
âThe whole house?â I interrupted.
âYeah, and the cup of coffee was still sittinâ on the stove with the coffee in it.â She patted her hands together with a tiny smile. âThatâs how calm it was. It just picked it up, took it along, and sat it down.â
A disaster report from British Columbiaâs Provincial Emergency Program said it was hard to understand why no one got killed. The period of grace between the first surge and the disastrous second was not long enough to get everyone moving toward higher ground. âMany were caught in their homes,â said the report. âThe fast-rising waters knocked out all power and street lighting, so that many waded chest-deep, in the sudden dark, through their yards to safety . . . Even more miraculous were some of the hair-breadth escapes of children. One
man dashed out to save his brand-new convertible only to find a pair of youngsters floating by on a log; he too was chest deep before the trio made it to dry ground. A civil defense worker rowing around in the dark checking houses, flashed his light into one and rescued a baby floating on a mattress.â
Scientists would later confirm that this runaway train of six tsunami waves had rumbled through the night the entire length of the Pacific Ocean from north to south. Four children camping with their parents near a beach on the Oregon coast were swept out to sea and drowned. Northern California got hammered when four of the big swells dragged across the shallow ocean bottom, sheared off, and circled back from the south to smash the seaside town of Crescent City, killing another dozen people. Sadly, several of the deaths in Crescent City were caused by ignorance. In 2008 Bill Parker, a retired civil defense coordinator who had tried his best to get everyone to higher ground, explained what happened when the salty sludge started to recede.
âEverything was a mess,â Parker recalled. âThe streets were loaded with debris. Buildings were shattered; cars were on top of each other.â Then, as the second wave began to ebb, people
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