Where It All Began: Bruce, the Bay, and the Seed of an Idea

Before Treasure Bay, before any golf holes were built or tents were ordered, this story began with a walk to Ray’s.

At the time, I was working as a real estate broker, and we were visiting our
family home in Waldport. Bruce—who was always dreaming up new ways to
have fun—had recently asked me to look for “boat storage” near Alsea Bay. He
wanted to make the most of his time on the water. But on that walk, I saw
something unexpected: a “For Sale by Owner” sign posted on a wild,
overlooked piece of land tucked right in the heart of downtown.

I made a call. The property, about three acres, was in limbo. It had been part of
a failed development known as “Dream Harbor”—a subdivision that had gone
belly up after the 2008 crash. A road had been laid, utilities had gone in, but
the project had stalled, and the land was now owned by a hard money lender.

Bruce moved quickly. He saw something in this place—opportunity, yes, but also
a chance to build something joyful. Something that could bring people
together. Many others were interested, but Bruce got there first. He felt lucky.
Energized. Curious about what this new chapter might hold.

He explored a few ideas: commercial retail, townhomes—but none of it quite fit. It
didn’t light him up. Then he started looking into something called glamping, a
newer trend at the time that blended the experience of camping with more
comfortable, often creative accommodations. He hadn’t quite pulled the thread on
it yet, but the curiosity was there. The wheels were turning.

And then, Bruce’s life was taken from us—suddenly, unexpectedly. A dream left
mid-sentence.

For a while, the land sat quiet. We weren’t sure what to do. But eventually, the
answer became clear: we wanted to honor Bruce. Not by replicating an idea he
didn’t finish, but by creating something that felt like him. Something he would
have loved.

When we began researching the site, we discovered even more layers of history.
Long before Dream Harbor, long before the middle school, this land was home to
the Alsi people, Indigenous to the central Oregon coast. That history humbles us.
We honor it as we take up our part in the land’s long story.

And more recently, the land had been home to Waldport’s middle school.
Generations of local kids passed through here, playing games and learning under
these skies. The area where our putting course now lives? It used to be a baseball
field.

That struck something in us.

Bruce loved games. Golf, cornhole, Olympic hangball (yes, that’s a thing),
washoos, chipping contests—anything that brought people together to
laugh, play, and compete in good fun. He had a deep love of connection
and a very playful spirit. So we thought: what if we built something that
brought that energy back? What if we created a place where people could
play?

That was the seed of Treasure Bay.

We envisioned a campground-style resort that didn’t require all the effort of
traditional camping. A place where people could roast marshmallows,
swing a putter, laugh with friends, and take in the beauty of Alsea Bay. A
place with nods to the past and invitations to play.

We’re still building it—and there’s a lot more story to share. But this was the
beginning. A man with a big heart. A forgotten piece of land. And the idea
that maybe joy, history, and community could live together here again.

Thanks for reading the first entry of The Treasure Log. We’re so glad you’re
here.