Bullards Beach to Seven Devils Wayside

That's it, I quit! No more hiking inland! Lately, every time I hike in either the Cascades or the Siskiyous, the weather's been rainy, cold, or all of the above. In contrast, almost every time I've hiked at the coast in the last few months, the weather has been absolutely glorious with spring time sun shining brightly with perfectly mild temps. The latest case in point was a recent hike from the Coquille River to Seven Devils State Recreation Site (which is just a glorified name for "picnic area on Seven Devils Road").

Between the Friends of the Umpqua and the South Coast Striders (a sister hiking club from Coos Bay), we had nearly 20 hikers presenting to arms. By the time we showed at the meet-up point at Seven Devils, the Coos Bayliens had already worked out the intricate machinations of the vehicle shuttle. By way of explanation, the shuttle process was required because this was a one-way beach walk of 8.2 miles with drivers needing a ride back to their vehicles at Bullards Beach after the hike was over. We left a couple of cars at Seven Devils for that express purpose and began hiking from the Coquille River and its attendant lighthouse and river jetty.

This fossil found a fossil

The lighthouse used to be sited on an island in the middle of the river entrance but man in his infinite wisdumb, constructed a rock jetty to shepherd the river safely out to sea. The normal oceanic shoreline currents were interrupted and impeded by the jetty, with the result that backfill soon connected the lighthouse's island to the shore. I think that also as a result of this particular instance of man tampering with nature, is that Bullards Beach is always (within my experience, at least) littered with rocks that make this beach the beachcomber's equivalent of a yard-sale addict with $500 to spend at an estate sale. 

Sanderlings do the wave dance

Well, it didn't take long for me and several other beachcombing like-minded individuals to start walking slower, eyes carefully scanning the ground for beach treasure. Directly related to said activity, my pack soon weighed more that it did when I had started hiking, due to my toting a healthy sampling of clam fossils and petrified wood. My buddy Jay was similarly afflicted and burdened.

Our basic view for 8 miles

Although a cool breeze was a constant and the temps were somewhere in the low 50's, the sun was out and there was no chance of rain. The Oregon coast stretched out in front of us and we could see all the way to Cape Arago. I told Jay we were hiking all the way there because it was  so much fun to hear him cry with dismay.

The tide was out, to put it mildly

The tide was receding and by the time we reached Cut Creek at the 4 mile mark, we had acres of sand to walk on as the ocean had sullenly withdrawn from all beach proceedings. Tidal flats and sand bars were exposed by the retreating sea, and there was more slow walking due to some more obligatory beachcombing. There was probably like 40 or 50 yards of wet sand that was firm enough to provide a nice hard surface for easy hiking.

Jay ponders how to cross without getting feet wet

The next landmark after Cut Creek was Whiskey Run, a medium sized creek that sinuously S-curved its way to the much larger ocean. A pair of kite surfers were doing their thing in the choppy surf while fisherman were filling up their buckets with perch, enjoying peaceful beachy solitude as they plied their avocation. At the water's edge, flocks of sanderlings comically darted in and out, matching the ebb and flow of the waves.

Tidepool scenery at Fivemile Point

About a mile past Whiskey Run, Fivemile Point seemingly blocked the way. Now, I've hiked around the point a time or two, but always on a receding tide. In each instance, it had been tricky scrambling over the rocks while waves tried to eat me. But ah, at low tide, no such issues at all, it was merely a simple walk around the point.

Exposed shoals at low tide

Well, maybe not all that simple, for the retreating tide had left numerous tide pools that just called for exploration and photography. Jay and I, who were already lagging far behind the main body of power-hikers, soon lagged even further behind but on the other hand, we both have lots of photos of the scenic pools and rocky islands at Fivemile Point. 

Twomile Creek beelines for the sea

Even though it is only a mile further past Fivemile Point, the creek there is called Twomile Creek. Around here, they must use the metric system when naming their landmarks. But Twomile Creek marked our exit point off the beach and the end of this 8.2 mile beach walk. We all really enjoyed this sunny day on the coast, made perhaps even more memorable by comparison to the next day's hike in a swirling snowstorm on the North Umpqua Trail. Seriously, I'm just going to hike at the coast from here on in.

Nice haul!

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Merchants Beach

Seems like the Friends of the Umpqua hiking schedule was about as solid and permanent as a sand castle at high tide. The wildfires this summer had us all scrambling and rearranging destinations due to closures, smoke, and outright fire on or around our favorite trails. The upcoming hike was scheduled for Rattlesnake Mountain but the Rattlesnake Fire kind of got in the way of that. What an amazing coincidence to have Rattlesnake Fire burning on Rattlesnake Mountain, what were the odds of that happening? Naturally, there wasn't going to be any Rattlesnake hiking but the Forest Service made it official when they closed not only the Rattlesnake Trail, but the entire Rogue-Umpqua Divide Wilderness.

One misty moisty morning...

Hike leader Diana was incommunicado while enjoying a fire-free vacation in Spain, so yours truly made an executive decision and changed the destination to Sacchi Beach. I'd been there a few weeks earlier but the club hadn't hiked there that I knew of, Sacchi Beach would be a new destination for most hikers. Plus, the odds of a Sacchi Fire taking hold on the beach were pretty slim. In hindsight, I should have checked the tide tables first, but what's a Richard Hike without a little chaos involved?

Morning constitutionals

Fifteen hikers, one dog, and one drone showed up on a misty morning for a nice beach walk. Turned out, high tide was due to crest in about 90 minutes but there was plenty of sandy beach as we started. There are three beaches involved when hiking from the Seven Devils State Recreation Area: Merchants Beach lies north of Fivemile Point with Twomile Creek roughly marking where Agate Beach begins. Agate Beach ends at an unnamed point, with Sacchi Beach laying on other side of the point. Got it? There's going to be a pop quiz in the morning, kids, so be ready.

The hike north ends here

At any rate, we traversed Agate Beach, reaching the unnamed point in short order. The waves were already lapping at the base and a quick climb up some rocks revealed the bad news: there would be no hiking on Sacchi Beach today. At best the water was near knee deep and of course, it was much deeper when the waves rolled in. 

C'mon sun, you can do it!

So back south we went, as the mist lifted and returned, seemingly ebbing and waning with the waves. However, the trend was generally heading towards a sunny day. The hike back to Seven Devils was pretty short so most hikers continued on south towards Fivemile Point. A flock of vultures watched us from a stand of dead trees, licking their beaky lips as they watched their lunch walk by. It always makes me nervous when the vultures do that, what do they know about my life expectancy that I don't?

The hike south ends here

When Issiah and I hiked to Fivemile Point earlier this year, we scrambled over Fivemile Point by clamboring over the rocky point. While hands were required, the scramble up and over wasn't too difficult, although Issiah seemed to have less difficulty climbing over than I did.  But with the incoming tide clasping the point in a watery embrace, we couldn't even reach the point where the climb over began. What we were left with were damp and sheer cliffs, and the realization we weren't going to get past Fivemile Point either.

Who says an old dog can't teach new tricks?

A long and leisurely lunch break was enjoyed at the point, the seaside scenery entertaining us as the sky morphed from gray to blue. Oddly enough, a rusting engine block lay in the sand at the base of the point, leading to much speculation as to how that block got here in the first place. My theory is that it was dropped there by the world's strongest osprey.

Beach treasure, in the form of petrified wood

All good things come to an end and reluctantly, we strolled back to the car, having to be satisfied with an easy 6 mile hike. Maybe next time I'll check the tide table before deciding on a beach hike. But it could have been worse, we could have been hiking in the middle of a wildfire on Rattlesnake Mountain.

Sure beats walking in a forest fire

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Sacchi Beach

I've never felt the need to smoke. In my view, there's just no appeal in burning a stinky weed in your mouth. The whole allure of smoking simply baffles me, I just don't get it. I try not to get too judgmental about those who do smoke because I have friends and family members who smoke and apart from that one fault, are generally pretty nice people. But I do think second-hand smoke is pretty rude because somebody else's smoking habit is being imposed on me against my will. So, imagine my discomfiture when in the month of August and early September, I had to unwillingly inhale unfiltered smoke all day and every day. I'll probably wind up with some lung disorder later on in life, directly attributable to the fire smoke that filled up the valleys of western Oregon in summer of 2017.

Mid-morning in Winston

Near Roseburg, we had the North Umpqua Forest Complex fires vaporizing thousands of acres of trees along the North Umpqua River. The complex included the Happy Dog Fire happily burning up the forest in the Boulder Creek Wilderness area. Bad doggie! Poor little Boulder Creek is like Lightning Central when the summer storms commence and can't even get a baby forest started due to the frequent fires in the area. Yet, despite the lack of live trees, the fires somehow still find plenty of fuel to burn.

Cough!

However, the North Umpqua Forest Complex was not alone and had plenty of flaming company: The Falcon Complex and High Cascade Complex fires managed to shut down the Rogue-Umpqua Divide Wilderness and the north and west sides of Crater Lake National Park. Further south was the Miller Complex, gloriously denuding the slopes of Red Buttes Wilderness and Grayback Mountain. Nearer to home, the Horse Prairie Fire chewed up the oft-burned Lower Cow Creek area near Riddle. But the star of the smoke show was the Chetco Bar Fire which at the time of this writing (September 19th) was rapidly approaching 200,000 acres of ashy terrain as its legacy. 

Our view, for six straight weeks

During late August and early September, the weather had been hot and dry, with little or no wind movement. So, the fires churned and burned and the resulting smoke filled up all the low-lying valleys. The smoke had no other place to go, yet the fires continued to pump more smoke into the already smoke-filled low areas to the point where the sun was not visible at all in the dirty brown sky. The vibe and atmosphere was apocalyptic and I'm going to start smoking whether I like it or not.

Twomile Creek, on a fine day a the coast

However, the weekend forecast did call for some relief at the coast with winds predicted to sweep the Chetco Bar Fire smoke and ash in a northeastern direction. The city of Bend was the lucky recipient of our smoke, but I was OK with that, even though Bend wasn't, as I headed out to the coast to see if blue sky was what I remembered it to be. On the drive over the Coast Range, the air near Coquille was nearly solid with fresh particulate matter that left parked cars coated with ash.

Agate Beach beckons

At Seven Devils State Recreation Site on the Oregon coast, there was some blue sky, although there was still plenty of smoke graying up the sky to the south with a noticeable layer of smoke hanging high over the ocean. Given the recent six-week long nastiness of the air quality (or lack, thereof), I'll take it. As I set out on Merchants Beach, a chill wind blew into my face, it was so good to feel air movement, too.

Sand art

This hike would be a tale of three beaches: Merchants, Agate, and Sacchi. Merchants and Agate Beach are basically the same strip of sand with Agate Beach kind of hanging around Threemile Creek and Merchants Beach hanging around Twomile Creek. An unnamed rocky point keeps Sacchi Beach pent up in its own little beachy corner of the Oregon coast.

Miniature wind hoodoos

Heading north to Agate Beach, it was several miles of a lonely strand of sand arcing towards a distant Cape Arago, with only gulls and sand crabs to keep me company. The wind had created miniature formations out of the numerous pebbles on the beach, from an ant's-eye view, they probably resembled hoodoos and balancing rocks. Occasional rocky cliffs sported interesting rock formations and one rock in particular resembled the fossilized skull of the Aztec god Mictlantecuhtli.

Eroded rock at Sacchi Beach

The tide was receding at the unnamed point, so there were no interesting wet-footed tales to tell: just a simple dry-footed stroll around barnacle encrusted rocks to secluded Sacchi Beach. After a mile of walking along the sand, the beach abruptly ended at a formidable cliff that delineated where Sacchi Beach ended and Cape Arago sort of started. The tide was way out, exposing some phantasmagorical rock formations. More dear to my heart, a sandy maze of a route through the rocks provided a way to explore further north along the shore, leading me to a secret cove.

The secret cove was a wild place

This is not the place to be in high tide and even though it was low tide, a wave rolled in and left me stranded atop a rock, waiting for the water to recede so I could safely leave the secret cove. While waiting, I availed myself of the opportunity to take pictures of the rocks, islands, and a notable amphitheater carved into a massive cliff by the waves. This little piece of Sacchi Beach was my favorite part of the hike.

Creepy ball of sand crab babies

On the way back, the tide had receded farther than a middle-aged man's hairline, exposing acres of beach glistening under the afternoon sun. The scenery was pretty and all, but this portion of the hike soon became all about the sand crabs. As waves ebbed, dozens of sand crabs emerged from the sand and scurried after the retreating water line before hurriedly burrowing back into the sand. Large balls of baby sand crabs rolled in the shallow water, creepily scattering hither and yon at my arrival.

Rock warts

At about the 5.6 mile mark, I had made it back to Twomile Creek and the picnic area at the Seven Devils Recreation Site, but I wasn't done yet. For more mileage, I walked to Fivemile Point and back. The sun was getting low and the restless sea glinted silver in the afternoon sunlight. Fivemile Point was totally exposed by the low tide and I was able to take photographs of concretions and eroded honeycomb formations on the rock.

My route 

From Fivemile Point, it was a lean-into-the-wind hike back to Seven Devils picnic area, as a flock of rather nonchalant and blase seagulls blithely watched me walk by. There was a critter track that ended abruptly in the wet sand, so I started digging to see what made the track. When some wiggling wormy creature from the depths started flipping around in my hand unexpectedly, I may have screamed a little.

Behold the fossilized skull of Mictlantecuhtli!

It was nice to spend at least one day this summer under semi-blue sky and I was a happy hiker on the drive home. Well, I was happy, until I reached Coquille and the smoky air. The Horse Prairie Fire was still burning and more smoke was being pumped into the Coquille River valley. Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit smoking!

Sacchi Beach rocks!

For more pictures of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Fivemile Point

Man, things are really heating up in the Umpqua Valley. It's been hotter than a Chuck Prophet guitar solo at Sam Bond's Garage on a Saturday night. Hotter than my Green Death salsa slathered on homemade tamales. Hotter than me in tight jeans. OK, that last one might be subjective, and not necessarily an opinion held by many. The point is, in early July, summer was beginning to make its oppressive and stultifying presence felt. In hindsight, though, the really hot weather had not arrived, that would be an August experience. Also in hindsight, I probably should not use the word "hindsight" after that remark about my tight jeans.

Not so easy to do what Grandpa does

Anyway, since the valley was heating up, Issiah and I decided to head for the coast in search of cooler environs in which to hike in. And since Luna observed us loading up the Jeep with our hiking boots and backpacks, she whimpered and begged, her beseeching, doggie eyes entreating us to take her along. Powerless to resist her heart-rendering pleas, we opened up the rear deck and she joyfully hopped in.

Issiah wades across Twomile Creek

Well, sometimes you get what you ask for, and then some. At Seven Devils Wayside, near Bandon, a brisk and chilly wind sweeping up the coast had us shivering in no time. Our puny little sweatshirts were no match for the breeze cutting right through the useless fabric, so we walked fast to generate some internal heat.

Whee!

Luna, of course, had no such problem and everybody should hike like Luna. Letting out canine yips of joy, she was running and cavorting on the wide stretch of beach, the wind blowing her ears back as she sprinted to and fro. Twomile Creek fanned out across the beach and since Luna could not decide between splashing in the shallow creek or the roaring surf, she did both. Plus, there was a steady supply of seagulls to chase and scatter into the sky. All life should be like her enjoyment of the beach.

Look Grandpa, I'm floating!

We humans, of course, were somewhat more restrained and decorous, leaning into the wind as we trudged steadily south along Merchant's Beach. A large tree was partially buried in the sand, the dead leaves on its branches testifying to the tree's very recent demise. Dog and boy both enjoyed scrambling in the twiggy limbs and branches.

View south, from Fivemile Point

Like a weightlifting bouncer at a posh nightclub, Fivemile Point blocked the way south to Whiskey Run Beach . At high tide, it is impossible to walk around the point and we were just on the receding side of high tide. No problem for a half-monkey half-boy feral grandson to scramble over the rocky point with the agility and balance of the young. Some problem, but still doable, for an incredibly handsome grandfather using the wisdom and prudence learned from all the bruises, scrapes, and injuries accrued in a lifetime of overestimating the agility and balance of the young. Ah, but for an eager and frisky dog: rock climbing was not in her skill set. Issiah and I guided her gently, placing her feet on the rocks and pushing and pulling her upward. Uncharacteristically, Luna was accepting and restrained during this process, even her little dog brain recognized the danger in doing otherwise.

Where Fivemile Point starts

We didn't go all the way over the point, settling instead for the crest. From a barnacle-encrusted rocky perch, we enjoyed the view south, which consisted of Whiskey Run Beach curving all the way to the Coquille River. To the north was Merchant's Beach with Sacchi Beach beyond. Waves crashed on rocky islands while resting seagulls "painted" them white. Cape Arago and Arago Peak loomed at the end of Sacchi Beach and it looked like the morning overcast was clearing. It still was windy and cold, though.

No Issiah, you can't do what I'm thinking you want to do

So we climbed back down off of Fivemile Point, the two of us helping our less agile canine friend descramble back down to the beach, where she re-engaged in the more familiar and mindless activity of running around just to be running around. On Merchant's Beach, a large needle shaped rock pointed up to the sky and I had to use all my grandfatherly skills to cajole, persuade, and ultimately threaten Issiah not to climb up to the top. 

View north, to Cape Arago

Our plan was to continue north all the way to the terminus of Sacchi Beach but Issiah looked at me and said "my heart's not in it today". Now, Issiah is a hiker's hiker, he's no shirker when it comes to mileage and challenging trails, so when he says he's not into it, that must be honored. To do otherwise, would make hiking a chore instead of a recreational activity. So no problem, we hopped in the car and headed back to Roseburg, where the weather was as warm as a Texas Burrito at the Coquille Valley Produce and Deli.

Rocks, speeding across the sands

For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

Seven Devils Wayside to Bullards Beach

The Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club had a scheduled hike from Seven Devils Wayside to Fivemile Point several weeks ago. However, it looked like it was going to be a short hike so, naturally, I began to plot a way to jazz it up. I toyed with the idea of putting on a backpack and making a weekend out of walking to Bandon and back but the weather was not all that nice and I really didn't feel like camping in the cold fog. But, hey, I can day hike in cold fog so a shuttle hike was planned for the 9'ish mile beach walk from Seven Devils to Bullards Beach, near Bandon.

If you like the color gray, then this is your hike

Joined by the usual suspects (John, Edwin, and Merle) we bid adieu to our fellow hikers who were heading north while we set off to the south in heavy fog. The weather forecast had called for a sunny day once the fog burned off but as it turned out, we would never see the sun during the hike. Too bad, because the long winter leaves me pale white like one of those blind cave salamanders that scurry away when a flashlight shines upon them.  I could really use some sun.

Fivemile Point rocks!

A short walk to the south brought us to the only obstacle we would encounter on the day: Fivemile Point. The hike leader had admonished us to be careful, citing dangerous sneaker waves from Japan. However, the sneaker waves were so sneaky we never saw them and we enjoyed a wide beach at low tide all day long. There was a greater likelihood of Beyonce not lip-synching at a presidential inauguration than there was of our being swept away by a Japanese sneaker wave.

It's a Richard Hike!

However, the tide had not finished receding when we hit Fivemile Point and we had to scramble over the mollusk encrusted rocks to get around the point. We quickly learned gray rocks were good, black rocks were bad in nature's color coding system for hiking safety. The black on the rocks was seaweed and algae and slipperier than a booger on cold concrete. Sad to say, barnacles were harmed on the crossing of the point but at least we hikers remained hale and hearty.

I don't know, Tiger, my ball just disappeared

Once around the point, miles and miles of empty beach stretched ahead of us although we couldn't see most of it due to the fog and cloud cover. Bandon Dunes, a local golf course, was on top of the shoreline cliffs and it was common for us to find golf balls in the beach debris.  

Cut Creek awaits Edwin

Edwin's going down

On the way to Bullards Beach, there were two large creeks to cross: Whisky Run and Cut Creek. Edwin leaped across Cut Creek and just as I snapped a shot of his landing he toppled over and fell with a thud. Fortunately, that was the only mishap of the day and he was bemused, muddy, but unhurt.

Bullards Beach is a rockhound's delight

About 7 miles into the walk, the sand became stony and we began to encounter other beachgoers searching for agates and other treasure in a sure sign we were nearing Bullards Beach. Edwin found a fossilized clam, I found a couple of nice chunks of petrified wood, and John found a half-dozen more golf balls.

Welcome to Chateau Bullard, accent on the "ard"

On Bullards Beach, ocean currents deposit a lot of driftwood and some enterprising soul had built what could only be described as an architectural structure for a windbreak. We paused in admiration of the engineering involved in the construction, it really was a pretty elaborate endeavor as far as beach windbreaks go.

The Coquille River Lighthouse

Not long after, the Coquille River breakwater and lighthouse came into view, signaling our hike was over. Chilled, we stopped on the way home at the Coquille Produce and Deli for some Texas burritos.  Let's just say that after two bites we were no longer chilled. We couldn't feel our tongues either and taste buds were permanently scalded into oblivion by the hottest hot sauce this side of the Pecos River. I think those burritos were more dangerous than the Japanese sneaker waves.

For more pictures of this gray hike, visit the Flickr album.