The Ghost of the Peter Iredale – Original Song & Cinematic Short | Oregon Coast Shipwreck

On the edge of the Oregon coast, where the Columbia River meets the Pacific, a ghost still breathes through salt and steel. The Ghost of the Peter Iredale is an original cinematic shanty with a unique flair …written and filmed on location at Fort Stevens State Park, Oregon. Every frame in this short film was captured by me, featuring the voices, laughter, and wonder of real people who visited the wreck over the two days I was there filming. The Peter Iredale ran aground on October 25th, 1906, yet her bones still rise from the sand, a haunting reminder of the “Graveyard of the Pacific,” where more than 2,000 ships met their end. This song honors her story, and all those who rest beneath the waves. 🎧 Original Music: “The Ghost of the Peter Iredale” 🎥 Filming & Production: Delanae Elle Eanaled 📍 Location: Fort Stevens State Park, Astoria, Oregon If you were one of the amazing people who said yes to being filmed that day, thank you. This is for you. ❤️ Subscribe for more cinematic stories from the coast and beyond. Lyrics: The Ghost of the Peter Iredale “Listen to the sea, child of the wind… the shipwreck speaks, the ancestors sing…” Heave-ho, my brothers, the tide rolls deep and wide, Sing-ho, my sisters, where the river meets the tide. Rusting bones on the sand, where the white gulls sail, We honor the ghost of the Peter Iredale. She came from the east with her iron and steel, Sailed to the west on the storm-wind’s heel. Four masts strong but the waves did prevail, And the beach became home to the Peter Iredale. Heave-ho, my brothers, the tide rolls deep and wide, Sing-ho, my sisters, where the river meets the tide. Rusting bones on the sand, where the white gulls sail, We honor the ghost of the Iredale. “Waves remember. Winds remember. No ship sails forever. But the spirit remains, Here in the salt, here in the sand…” October storm at the river’s mouth, Winds from the north and the gray from the south. But the crew walked free as the ship turned pale, And the sea kept her bones … the Peter Iredale. Heave-ho, my brothers, the tide rolls deep and wide, Sing-ho, my sisters, where the river meets the tide. Rusting bones on the sand, where the white gulls sail, We honor the ghost of the Peter Iredale. “Still she breathes… but the sea has many bones.” Heave-ho, the breakers cry, Graveyard sleeping where the gulls fly high. Fog rolls thick where the lost men sail, Whisper their names through the Iredale. Footsteps fall on the iron sand, Tourists drift where the captains stand. Phones glow white in the ghost-wind’s veil, Framing the bones of the Iredale. “Two thousand vessels claimed by foam, Each one sleeps, but none alone. The river’s mouth, the ocean’s teeth Here the brave found peace beneath.” Tillamook Head to Astoria Bay, The tide still hungers for iron prey. Sandbars shift and tempests wail, Feeding the ghost of the Iredale. Heave-ho, my brothers, sing, Hear the bell of the lost ships ring. Rust and sorrow, wind and hail, All are bound to the Iredale. “I met them there, strangers, laughing in the spray, Hands outstretched to the ghost and the day. They asked her name; she answered in waves. The living remember, the sea still saves.” Heave-ho, my brothers, the tide rolls deep and wide, Sing-ho, my sisters, where the river meets the tide. Rusting bones on the sand where the white gulls sail, We honor the ghosts of the Graveyard and the Iredale.