The scientific progress made in the second half of the 20th century has been such that new and spectacular events have become almost commonplace. Atomic-powered ships and submarines, ICBMS, and sputniks are in the daily press with political and cultural events as regular news. Normally a simple non-atomic explosion would hardly be news. However, one such feat of engineering—the destruction of Ripple Rock in April, 1958— had international news coverage. The problems involved in its removal and the failure of earlier attempts, plus the fact that this was to be the largest non-atomic explosion ever to occur in North America, all combined to make this a noteworthy event.
Ripple Rock was a reef of about one and a half cables in length and it was so situated that it occupied a part of the main channel through Seymour Narrows on the Inside Passage between Seattle, Washington and Vancouver, B. C., and points north. Because of the depth of the water—at times only nine feet—and because of the tremendous speed of the water—as much as fourteen knots during a change of tide—navigators have always had to use caution while passing through these narrows. Some have not been successful and on two occasions vessels of the U. S. Navy did not take the necessary care.
On June 8, 1875, the USS Saranac, a paddle steamer of 1,484 tons and armed with thirteen guns, sailed from San Francisco under the command of Captain W. W. Queen. The Saranac had orders to go to Alaska to collect articles and materials for the forthcoming Centennial Exposition. This mission was considered of such importance that the Smithsonian Institute had sent Dr. Emil Bisella of its staff to accompany the expedition.
The ship proceeded first to Victoria, B. C., and then went on to Nanaimo where she took on coal at the Vancouver Coal Company wharf. She was soon underway again. On Saturday morning, June 18, while passing through the Seymour Narrows the Saranac ran onto Ripple Rock. She was steaming at a speed of fourteen knots and struck with considerable violence on her port side. At once the fore-hold began to fill with water and there was some fear on the part of the crew that she would capsize. Fortunately she hung on and then turned off the reef and began to head for the Vancouver Island shore. It was obvious, however, that in her condition beaching was not possible.
Orders were given to abandon ship and all hands at once took to the boats. All of the crew and other personnel were saved as were four geese, three chickens, and a duck. The Saranac sank at 10:15 am, going down stern first, at a distance of some 100 feet from the shore and disappeared in 63 fathoms of water.
The ship’s company initially landed on one of the neighboring Gulf Islands. Soon after all the personnel were ashore, two of their number, Mr. George, the pilot, and Lieutenant Saunders, the commander, were ordered to make their way to Victoria to report the loss and to make the necessary arrangements for the rescue of the crew. Apparently Mr. George and Lieutenant Saunders were given some assistance in their task by the local Indian population, because the two men travelled south to Saanich in an Indian canoe. The journey was without incident save only that both were thoroughly drenched by a series of rain squalls.
When the officers finally reached Victoria, they told of the disaster and made known to the officials there the situation of the men. The commander of the British naval establishment at Esquimault, Admiral Cochrane, at once ordered HMS Myrmidon to Seymour Narrows. The Hudson’s Bay Company also dispatched their launch, the Otter, to act also as a relief ship.
The vessels made their way up the coast and soon reached the marooned men. The latter had transferred to the Vancouver Island shore where they had camped out. They had received provisions from the Indians and had eaten venison cooked over open fires using sticks as utensils, their culinary instruments now being at the bottom of the Narrows.
Aside from the loss of their personal possessions and in addition to being very wet from the storm of the night before, all were in good condition. The men greeted their rescuers warmly and the former were soon aboard the Myrmidon and Otter. The rescue ships took in tow the gig, the steam launch, the second cutter, and the dinghy, all of which had been used in the escape from the Saranac.
Ripple Rock was involved with a ship of the U. S. Navy a second time, but this time less seriously than in the case of the USS Saranac. Towards the end of July, 1881—probably on the 22nd—the USS Wachusett was also proceeding northward. She passed through Seymour Narrows during a strong ebb tide and settled momentarily in a whirlpool. In so doing she struck Ripple Rock and tore off a large portion of her false keel and splintered her regular keel. No further damage ensued and the Wachusett continued on her way. So minor, indeed, was this incident considered that the newspaper, The Colonist, in Victoria does not seem to have mentioned it at all.
With the 1958 removal of this hazard to navigation, events such as the sinking of the Saranac and the damaging of the Wachusett are now things of the past. The destruction of Ripple Rock, in the Centennial Year of British Columbia and the year in which Alaska entered the Union as a state, is an achievement which will be of mutual benefit to the maritime affairs of Canada and the United States in peace and war.