Death Beach, OR.

So, about half-way down the Oregon coast, right after we left a skatepark, we saw a sign painted on the ground indicating "beach access." We had yet to actually go to a beach, we had only driven by them, so we were psyched to touch the pacific ocean for the first time. Down a winding road was the beach, nestled between a high rock wall on one side, and a concrete pier (apparently a working port) on the other. We walked down to the beach, sat on a piece of driftwood and took off our shoes. We were super excited, because the huge rocks and crags off-shore were gorgeous, and the water looked amazing. We started walking towards the water, when I heard head Esther 

"Dude, dead bird!"

I hurried over, and we examined it. I poked it with a stick, and we decided to move along. Then we found another one. And another, and another. There were close to a hundred, maybe a hundred a fifty dead birds, all the same species, scattered, rotting all over the beach. They weren't seagulls, and there was no reason for such a huge amount of them to be dead. There were no bullet holes, or anything to indicate why they died. We explored the beach and found a whole variety of dead things, like a shark, a couple fish, what looked like a cormorant, a pile of rotting fish parts, a pile of clean, white fish bones, and a couple heaps of dead crabs. Wtf. Hands down the wierdest thing we've seen on this whole trip. So we named it Death Beach, OR. 

Shark.