Yachats

In my view, one of Oregon's biggest mysteries is why Yachats is pronounced YAH-hahts but spelled like it should sound like YAH-chats. A cursory research conducted over the Internet (because if it's on the Internet, it MUST be true) revealed that the name possibly comes from the Siletz language and means "dark water at the foot of the mountain". OK, Cape Perpetua looms to the south of the small town so I get how that name could have originated. But when the first European first encountered the Siletz people and asked "What is the name of this place?", he probably got the answer "Yah-hahts". So then, said European writes in his journal "Yachats" and then from that point on, generations of Oregonians had to explain to their non-Oregon friends that the "c" is silent and as useful as a bubble-gum machine in a tetanus ward. Makes no sense to me at all, but there you go.

Abstract art found on the beach

Yachats is a quaint small town on the Oregon coast and because of the fantastic coastline scenery, hotels and house preside over shoreline vistas because we all know magnificent natural wonders need more hotels and tall buildings to enhance the view. At any rate, to get some mental health therapy that can only come from being out in nature and wilderness, I set out onto the Oregon Coast Trail and beneath my boots, welcomed the trail tread which felt a lot like...asphalt?

A churn erupts

OK, so this is not your wilderness hike. But one can look to the west and see rugged coast line and spouting churns, or one can look east and see Yachats. I prefer the view to the west. This hike began at Yachats State Park, where one can contemplate Cape Perpetua overlooking a small bay that is the estuary of the Yachats River. Immediately below were some fine tide pools with families enjoying the marine life contained within. Tidepooling is fun but I had a hike to do, so it was off on Ocean View Road, my hiking poles clacking metallically upon the pavement. 

Some of that Yachats shoreline

If I had looked closer at a map of the town, I could have ducked up 4th Street and added a park to my route but as it was, I just followed the Oregon Coast Trail signs which had me walking on public roads.  Suddenly, a dirt track appeared to the left and I grabbed it, thinking this surely must be the Oregon Coast Trail. Wrong, it was just a path down to the rocks and a small beach. Still thinking I was on the OCT, I continued over the rough shoreline terrain where a rambunctious churn at Agency Creek prevented me from safely continuing north. Still, the scenery was enjoyable so I didn't mind the wrong turn.

Yes, this really is the Oregon Coast Trail

The OCT continued north on roads until it became a paved trail that wandered behind backyards and houses. Beyond the Sea, a large hotel, loomed straight ahead but on the plus side, the trail followed the shore at this point without any asphalt being involved. I thought the hotel was oddly named because Beyond the Sea is Japan, which is easier to spell. Beyond Beyond the Sea was an even larger resort by the name of Adobe Resort which was strange, seeing how there are no adobe bricks within several time zones of Yachats. 

A perfect place for yoga and meditation

By the way, a brief moment of thanks to the two aforementioned hotels for allowing the Oregon Coast Trail to cruise between their imposing edifices and the Oregon coast. They didn't have to do that and sharing is appreciated. The next item of interest was Smelt Sands State Recreation Area, with some wild rock formations and picturesque tide pools filling up every dimple in the rocks. I can't say that I smelt anything unusual at Smelt Sands, though. Especially since Lane was not hiking with me, just sayin'.

The beach stretched all the way to Waldport

The trail left a lot of the urban feel behind when it ducked into a forest and dropped down on a beach that stretched out all the way to Waldport, about 10'ish miles away. The only hiking obstacle between me and Waldport was a wet ford across Starr Creek. From here on in, it would be a beach walk all the way to Tillicum Beach, my turnaround point. 

An ocean of silver

The beach was flanked inland by tall cliffs with imposing homes on them and after 4 miles, I had reached my beach saturation point. On the way back, the sunlight reflecting on a silver sea entertained and enthralled the camera, I have millions of photographs to support my claim of entrancement by the glimmering sea.

Boom!

I had been hiking in a rising tide and apart from an occasional wave chasing me up the beach every now and then, there was so much beach to hike on that that I was pretty much unaware of the incoming ocean. However, once back above the coast at Smelt Sands, the churns were very active with throngs of appreciative observers enjoying the show. Waves would surge up the narrow churns only to seemingly erupt out of the black rock at the end of the churn. It was quite a show and I soon forgot I was walking on an urban trail.

Shadow Man enjoyed the hike, too

All good things come to an end though, and I was tired and happy when I reached the parking lot at the end of the hike. Spending the day on the coast is always a good thing. For more photos of this hike, please visit the Flickr album.

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Gwynn Creek Loop

Rain Rain Rain
Come once again
Give us the chance
To sing and dance

From "Rain O Beautiful Rain"
by Partha Mahanta

Hiking in the rain-o-beautiful-rain

Let be known that on a recent hike at Cape Perpetua for Dollie and I, there was no singing or dancing involved. There was lots of rain-o-beautiful-rain though and I walked in a vortex of coldness that had little to do with the actual temperature involved. For some reason the vortex seemed to be centered on the red-jacketed hiker I was following (from a safe distance behind).

All hikes should start like this

I had promised a moderate hike of about 6 miles and I did stay true to my word but there were other travails involved besides the mileage. At first it seemed like there would be no tests of manhood, womanhood, or marital harmony as the hike got off to an auspicious start at the Cape Perpetua Visitor Center with golden sunlight slanting through a steaming forest. After five minutes on the trail, the sun disappeared and 37 seconds after that, the rain started. Slugs were out and about on the trail in slimy ebullience, singing and dancing in the rain-o-beautiful-rain. 

The forest is full of green things

However, it was a light rain as the trail left the Cape Creek drainage, climbing up and over forested Cook's Ridge before dropping down into the Gwynn Creek canyon. Up was the key word here as the trail switchbacked to and fro, climbing a robust 1,000 feet in two miles through a dense forest of young trees.

Snarling wife

I was feeling pretty walky and actually was enjoying the exertion, a feeling that was not felt by all in our hiking party. I mentioned I was feeling pretty good and Dollie said "That's nice", only it was the "that's nice" that meant it really wasn't nice at all. My suspicion was confirmed when a trail runner came jogging down the trail with her dog. She was comparatively scantily clad, being oufitted in mere running shorts and a T-shirt. A broad smile indicated she was totally into the joy of running in the rain. We exchanged pleasantries in passing and once the young lady ran out of earshot, Dollie said "I hate her", upper lip curling in a feral snarl.

So happy for the chance to sing and dance

As we continued gaining elevation, we entered the low cloud cover cloaking Cape Perpetua and fingers of mist soon clasped trees, ferns, and hikers in a cold and wet hug. Then the real rain started. The forest was soon filled with the three-dimensional aural hiss of millions of rain drops simultaneously striking both leaves and raincoats. Fern fronds were bouncing up and down with the music and rhythms of the raindrops, happy for the chance to sing and dance in the rain-o-beautiful-rain.   

They make such a cute couple

All the bad uphill stopped at the junction with the Gwynn Creek Trail, and we commenced descending on the damp and muddy path. The very moment we started losing elevation the rain abated, seemingly in reward for our conquering the steep ridge. Green was the theme here with ferns, salal, and moss all being major contributors.

Get your red hot fungus here!

The November rains had set the mushrooms to sprouting and I spent a lot of muddy trail time lying on the ground taking pictures while Dollie scouted ahead for the next photo shoot subject. There were some coral fungus/staghorn fungus thingies ("thingy" being my technical word for "I don't know what this is") that got my attention. Usually, coral fungus is an ordinary looking tan color but there were specimens colored salmon, bright yellow, and nuclear meltdown red.

Forest still life

As we got closer to the bottom of the canyon, sunlight broke out and the forest soon became steamy with evaporating moisture. It could almost have been the tropics, except for the 48 degree temperature and all those spruce and fir trees. Gwynn Creek was nearby and although the creek's watery song could always be heard from the dense forest below the trail, we rarely caught a glimpse of the small creek. We encountered lots of casual hikers in a sign we were nearing the Oregon Coast Trail and a nearby car-friendly trailhead.

If I don't go in, the deer can't eat me

At the intersection with the OCT, we made a right turn and finished off the last mile of the hike. The trail went up and down around the toe of Cook's Ridge which had been our considerably more formidable nemesis further inland. By now the storm had broken up and we enjoyed nice views of the always spectacular rocky coast at Cape Perpetua.

Green

A stop at the always tasty Los Amigos Burrito in Florence capped off a nice day and we decided we did enjoy our chance to sing and dance in the not-quite-so-beautiful rain.

Waxing lyrical as I savored tongue tacos while pondering the day's events, I even composed a poem in honor of our experience:

"Rain, rain, rain 

Come once again

Give us the chance

To wet our pants"

by Richard O'Neill

A sudden updraft blew his skirt up

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

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Heceta Head

Wow!  In this case WOW could be an acronym for Wild Oregon Weather.  Or it could be an acronym for Where's Our Window (more on that, later). Suffice to say, the recent Friends of the Umpqua hike in the Heceta Head area had a whole lot of wow, but not for the usual reasons.

And this was the "good weather" part!

The weather forecast looked fairly dire with copious amounts of rain called for and depending on whose smart phone you consulted with, wind was also going to be a problem. The most dire warnings had wind gusts reaching up to 70 miles per hour in velocity. I have a dumb phone and it told me nothing about the weather. The consensus was to drive to Heceta Head and to assess the wind and make a game-time decision about the hiking route.

No lighthouse tours today

At the trailhead, the wind was brisk but not overly so and the verdict from all 6 hikers was "Let's go hiking!". Of course, it was raining, and the pitter-patter of raindrops on hat brims was a steady backdrop to the roar of the ocean as we headed up towards the famed Heceta Head lighthouse. Next to lighthouse is the keeper's home, now a bed-and-breakfast with probably the best view ever from a bed-and-breakfast. Normally, the lighthouse is teeming with visitors but for some reason we had the place to ourselves. That wouldn't have anything to do with the high winds warning, would it?

Steep!

And then the fun started as the trail switchbacked to and fro, climbing up and over Heceta Head. Steep was the watchword and we got our exercise in the dense forest on the headland. Once we made it over Heceta Head, we were sheltered somewhat from the wind as we dropped down a mossy forest to a very wet Highway 101.

The newts liked the weather

Crossing the highway where the car tires all hissed on the wet pavement, we grabbed the Valley Trail to Carl Washburne State Park. The next couple of miles were a soggy and relatively level ramble through mossy woods. Several creeks crossed the trail, each carrying more water than usual since it's been raining for about a solid week. We passed by a small pond, allegedly created by beavers. Newts were out in great numbers and the trail was crawling with the orange-bellied amphibians.

Open air dining at its finest

After we reached the campground at Carl Washburne State Park, we crossed over the highway and ate lunch at the day use area next to the beach. It was a quick and businesslike lunch as both the rain and wind picked up in intensity. After packing up our wet gear, we hit the beach and tried to walk straight into the winds blowing from the south. The sand in the wind actually stung when it hit exposed body parts like faces, and I could even feel it through my pants.

The proper technique for hiking in the wind

We didn't get very far before an emergency meeting of the Friends of the Umpqua was convened and 5 of us opted to return the way we came, John was the lone hiker opting for the beach route. I've done stupid hikes before but you just have to be in the mood and I was not in the mood to be sandblasted on this day. So, it was a workmanlike return through the woods in the rain where John rejoined us at the other end of the loop.

Oregonians have land gills

As we climbed over Heceta Head the rain was so thick I could hardly see for all the raindrops on my glasses. I had long given up on taking pictures. The trail was muddy and full of standing water and at one point my feet shot out from under me and now I was wet AND muddy. Whee.

Hairpin curve

On the ocean side of the head, the wind was shrieking like an army of banshees from the underworld. The trees were waving to and fro like grass blades and you just had to have faith that trees or tree parts would not fall on your head. I'm glad to report no heads were harmed in the hiking of this hike.

Even the bears stayed home

At the parking lot, sheets of rain were driven like the wind and it looked like a newscast of a major hurricane, all that was needed was a reporter staggering in the wind for the benefit of the camera. The water drops hit so hard they felt like cold needles on the face. One large gust of wind did stagger Bill and he nearly went down, he had to grab a post for support. Seconds later, the same thing also happened to me.

Wow!

The wind was so strong that it sucked the rear window off of Jennifer's van, scattering the glass diamond shards to wherever the wind took them to. In spring, the shards will sprout and grow new windows by the end of summer. The wind also toppled over trees on the highway and we had to turn around and backtrack 25 miles to Florence and return to Roseburg via Eugene in an overly ventilated van, seeing as it had no rear window. Wow, indeed.

May the eye of
Sauron be upon you

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

  

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Cummins Creek loop

After a cold and drizzly night, Sunday dawned gloriously sunny at Florence. However, the summery day was pretty in appearance only as it was icy cold at the core of things. Hmm, that could describe my ex-wife too, now that I think about it. But I digress, suffice to say this was a day that  looked like spring but felt like winter on the Cummins Creek Trail at the foot of Oregon's scenic Cape Perpetua. 

Sunny and cold on the Cummins Creek Trail

The frozen trail crunched noisily underneath my boots at an early morning start. Beginning the loop on the Cummins Creek Trail, the morning sun slanted through a dense canopy of conifer and maple, the sun beams illuminating vapor rising from evaporating frost. The trail, at this point, is an old road bed and emerald green moss lined the gravelly trail tread. I soon lost sensation in my ears, nose, hands and various other exposed appendages due to the winter chill. 

Water drop, refracting sunlight

The trail climbed steadily for 3 miles or so and my camera was clicking merrily away, taking pictures of spring buds, ferns, mossy trails, sunbeams, and yellow-green slugs. Cummins Creek was heard but never seen as it tumbled through its wooded canyon well below the trail. Life was good, indeed, for the first three miles.

Time to work out the uphill muscles

At an intersection with an old logging road, a bona fide foot path angled up to the left, commencing the "Richard Hike" portion of this little trek. Climbing 800 feet in just under a mile, the trail was steep as it ascended what would normally be considered a beautiful hike through mossy white-barked alder trees. Burning quad muscles do have a tendency to take some luster off of the coastal forest scenery.

Warm view to the ocean

The climb took me out of the Cummins Creek drainage and crossed over to the headwater ridge crest overlooking Gwynn Creek. A short side-trip led to a grassy overlook of the Cummins Creek drainage culminating in the dark blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. There were no trees at the overlook and various clothing layers were soon strewn about the overlook as the sun warmed me up. This would be the only time I would be warm the entire day, excluding the drive home with the car heater cranked up.

Reach for the sky!

As I stated, the trail was traversing the headwaters of Gwynn Creek; once that little task was completed, the trail headed west, descending to the Cape Perpetua Visitor Center via the rounded and forested Cook's Ridge. The ridge is not named for any culinary incident or kitchen dignitary but instead is named for Captain James Cook who first laid eyes on the cape on Saint Perpetua's Day. Good thing he saw the cape on March 7th, otherwise the cape would have been named after a different saint. Cape Chad just does not have the same poetic ear-pleasing ring that Cape Perpetua  does.

Salal gone splotchy, just like me

The next 4 miles were a steady descent through one of the prettier coastal forests in Oregon. The trail wound its way through a second-growth forest (much of the original forest was destroyed in 1962's famed Columbus Day windstorm). Underneath the trees a vigorous undergrowth of ferns, rhododendron, and salal swiped at passing hiker's legs before the path unceremoniously spit hikers onto the visitor center parking lot.

Cape Perpetua, or maybe Cape Chad?

At this point, the rock wall of Cape Perpetua loomed invitingly above the parking lot. The views from atop the cape are arguably the best on the Oregon coast so I asked my legs if they were willing to do the climb to the cape summit. My legs said "No!" rather emphatically. So, for a little extra mileage and scenery, I took the flat paved trail to Cook's Chasm.

A watery belch by Thor's Well

Just a little creek, but my oh my, what a chasm it has carved into the rocky shore. Providing an assist with the rock carving, the Pacific Ocean churns up the narrow defile and a noisy spouting horn spouts salty spray, keeping time with the wave rhythms. Waves broke in spectacular fashion over the rocks, heralding the approaching high tide. Blowholes spouted right and left throughout the black and rocky shoreline. Iconic Thor's Well was performing for visitors, alternately spewing a watery fountain and swallowing the water back up, just like a sick and thirsty hiker.

Gwynn Creek

A short two miles wrapped up this 10.9 mile hike, as the Oregon Coast Trail went up and over the ridge between Gwynn and Cummins Creek. It was a joyous reunion between hiker and car heater, with the heater blowing out blessed warmth at full blast. Another joyous reunion between hiker and hot chocolate followed in Florence. Did I mention it was cold?

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