Carissa has its own mind.

Byline: The Register-Guard

There's a fine old joke that goes: "Want to make God laugh? Make a plan."

Oregonians know that if you really want to make God hysterical with laughter, try planning to remove the wreckage of the New Carissa.

That's not to cast aspersions on the good folks at TitanSalvage, the Florida-based marine salvage and wreck-removal contractor that has worked with the Department of State Lands to craft a whiz-bang plan to remove the final remnant of the most notorious shipwreck in state history. Leaving it as a tourist attraction appears not to be an option.

No offense, but Oregonians will believe it when they see it. Or rather, when they don't see the 98-foot-long stern section firmly planted in the sand off Coos Bay's broad, flat North Spit.

They know all too well that the New Carissa has a mind of its own, and that mind seems determined to defy any and all efforts to remove the remaining section of the ship from the Oregon Coast, where it ran around in a winter storm more than nine years ago.

To be sure, veteran salvagers have come up with a $16.4 million strategy that includes monster jack-up barges equipped with eight 300-ton hydraulic pullers designed to roll the stern section out of the sand and then cut and torch it into removable pieces.

It should be quite the spectacle: Bulldozers. Winches. Helicopters. Miles of mooring lines. Barges with giant legs sunk 30 feet in the sand. Blow torches. Pumps. Why, there even will be an aerial tramway that will whiz workers and materials from land to sea.

When it's all assembled and the grand scheme is under way, it should summon memories of some other New Carissa spectacles. Such as the Coast Guard's extraordinary efforts to use explosives to burn the ship's 400,000 gallons of oil, only to see the fire quickly snuffed and the ship break apart on a second attempt after grimly determined Coast Guard crews packed the ship with too many explosives.

Then there were the futile efforts to pump the remaining oil from the bow section, and a prolonged, costly attempt to tow the bow section off the North Spit. That looked like a success after the tug Sea Victory finally dragged the 440-foot bow to sea, only to watch it drift back toward shore near Waldport after hurricane force winds snapped the tow line in the middle of the night.

Eventually, exhausted, feuding Coast Guard and salvage crews managed to tow the bow 300 miles to sea. This time they left nothing to chance, sending the wreckage to the depths with a $1 million Mark 48 torpedo fired by a U.S. Navy submarine.

That's what it finally took to get rid of the bow, although anyone who witnessed this saga still half expects it to reappear some day on the Oregon Coast like a beached whale.

Now comes the equally recalcitrant stern, which is tilted at a 40-degree angle, battered by dangerous surf, buffeted by high winds and anchored solidly on bedrock under 40 feet of sand.

If all goes according to plan, the stern will be gone and cut into scrap by October, except for underwater remnants that can't be removed. They will be left under the surf and sand.

That's if everything goes according to plan. And if God doesn't laugh.