Cape Arago

It was a King Tide day and at Sunset Bay State Park, Big Creek was unnaturally full of water being forced upstream by the incoming tide. In between waves, I stood next to the creek and took several photographs of the bay, keeping a wary eye on an incoming wave that just kept coming and coming without any inclination of slowing down any time soon. Bye, gotta go! I took off running and all was well until I dropped my hiking pole. Dammit, that wasn't in my carefully crafted plan for escape! I reached down and picked it up, fumbled the pole pick up, then fumbled it again. Finally, got a firm grasp on the sucker and then I really had to move as the surge roared up Big Creek, covering up where I had been standing just seconds before with about 3 to 4 feet of fast moving water. A King Tide is nothing to mess with, dudes and dudettes.

Before

After

King Tide is a non-scientific term for an abnormally high tide. Oregon gets them several times a year and Shore Acres State Park is the perfect locale for experiencing the huge waves that sometimes result. The caveat is that a high surf is also required, because it is entirely possible for a King Tide to fail to generate huge waves and it's also possible for huge waves to manifest without benefit of a King Tide. But on this day, it was the perfect storm in that the King Tide was occurring in conjunction with a heavy surf generated by stormy weather. That was all I needed to wake up before dawn and arrive at Sunset Bay bright and early, trusty camera at the ready.    

A wave really would like to smite some hikers

I was more than happy to hike up on the forested bluffs overlooking the wild ocean after my near escape at Sunset Bay. But I shouldn't have felt that secure, for the waves, after surging into the unyielding cliffs, exploded into white-watered mayhem that often rose twenty feet or so higher than the trail, which was already twenty feet or so higher than the ocean. As I hiked through the woods, I could hear the booming surf cannonading in loud blasts up and down the coast, sounding like the most prolific thunderstorm ever.

A seagull rethinks its flight plan

As the route rounded the rocky cove of Norton Gulch, exposed rocky shoals came into view and the waves breaking over them were an awesome sight. A seagull was patrolling the shoreline and was probably questioning its life choices when one large wave enveloped the bird into its watery embrace, somewhat to my amusement. The constant mist from the waves refracted sunlight which is a non-romantic and very scientific way to say there were lots of rainbows.

Fountain in the Shore Acres garden 

As stated before, Shore Acres is the place to be when the big waves put on a show, what with the strategically sited viewpoint and observation area with easy access. Accordingly, throngs of photographers and videographers were gathered there to get their own personal iconic photos and/or videos of the booming waves. Rather than brandish my sharp elbows to rudely jostle for a place in the photography queue, I figured I'd hike to the secluded bluffs south of Simpson Beach and take some photos from there. However, the trail to the beach was gated shut with a dour-faced park ranger standing by, sternly enforcing the trail-closed edict. Seems that last year during a King Tide event, somebody went down to the beach and got themselves into trouble so now the park simply closes the beach trail whenever a King Tide event occurs.

Some of that Shore Acres action

Well, that screwed up my plans and since I wasn't ready to quit hiking yet, I backtracked through the Shore Acres gardens and made my way onto the trail heading up to the World War II bunker, since I'd never been to that landmark. Built as a watch station for Japanese submarines, the ruins of the bunker have long since been swallowed up by the forest and you currently would not be able to see the ocean from the bunker, much less a submarine unless it snuck up from behind, tapped you on the shoulder, and said "Boo, I'm a submarine!"

From defending the country to this

At the bunker ruins, vandals (or graffiti artists, depending on your point of view) had redecorated the old place. To be honest, all the color on the walls in a forested setting was visually interesting and kind of on the cool side. What was not cool were the spray paint cans left behind, along with several painted trees. I think the lack of respect bothers me more than the actual artwork. At any rate, the side trip to the bunker nominally served its purpose in extending the hike's mileage to a reasonable distance.

Large waves boomed up and down the coast

It was just about high tide and the waves would be as large as they were going to get today, so I hiked up the Cape Arago Highway until a resumption of the (open) coast trail presented itself. Wave-generated sonic booms permeated the forest and grassy bluffs, and I made my way to land's end like a concertgoer drawn to the front of the mosh pit. As I was happily doing my camera thing, one wave huger than most gave me a good soaking. It was quite the show and I stayed there for a fair amount of time until it became obvious the tide was receding and the waves were shrinking. While that was disappointing, at least the hike back to Sunset Bay was less eventful than my morning visit there.

Thimbleberry leaf: I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. O'Neill

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

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Cape Arago night hike

Pop! Hissssss... Those are the sounds of a murder. In this case, the helpless and hapless victim was the right rear tire on my Jeep and the perp was a hollow metal tube that impaled itself at right angles to the tire wall, neatly allowing the air contained within to escape in a mere minute. At least I know the tire sensor and dashboard indicator work. At any rate, Coral Rae, Daweson, and I were temporarily stranded in Myrtle Point by the slain tire, wondering if we'd even be able to do our night hike at Cape Arago.

My hiking companions

Bad weather had raised havoc with my plans to formally lead a group on a night hike and eventually the whole project was given up on because there was no way to get a weekend hike in this close to Christmas. The whole point of the night hike was to see the Christmas lights at Shore Acres State Park which is why the hike needed to be done before Christmas. Anyway, the weather eased up briefly on the Monday before Santa's arrival and spurred on by some friends associated with the South Coast Striders, a hiking group based in Coos Bay, I decided to go and secured the attendance of grandchildren Coral Rae and Daweson.

We started out later than intended

However, the Striders were beginning a bit later than I wanted to, so the kids and I left early, fully intending to hike by ourselves, ahead of our Strider friends. But a strategically placed metal tube in a comparatively soft rubber tire put paid to that idea and the end result was that because of time lost by the tire repair, we wound up at the trailhead at the same exact time that buddy Tom and his Strider companions were beginning their hike. It was like it was meant to be!

And so it begins

Starting at the unusual time of 4:00 pm, a half-dozen hikers or so set foot on the trail beginning at Sunset Bay State Park. The afternoon already had that pre-sunset burnished glow about it and despite the sunlight, it was what could charitably be referred to as "chilly". And, after a mile or two of casual hiking, the sun and sky looked more like sunset than afternoon. By the time we arrived at Shore Acres State Park, the Oregon coast was definitely basking in the last hurrah of daylight. The golden glow was perfect for photography and we mingled with the hordes of sunset shutterbugs gathered at the whale watching station, most armed with cameras at the ready with which to capture the sunset.

Christmas lights, courtesy of Mother Nature

Hiking quickly, we dropped onto relatively quiet Simpson Beach, and then walked through some dark woods to reattain the coastal bluffs overlooking the restless ocean. Grabbing a faint path took us atop a secluded rocky point where we all plopped down on grass to ooh and aah at the coming sunset. The day's denouement was mere minutes away so we didn't have to wait very long before day slipped into night to the accompaniment of the roaring surf. The orange sun coloring sky and clouds was Mother Nature's own version of Christmas lights.

Even the lights have lights at Shore Acres

Once the sun was down, it was time for the true "night" portion of this night hike. We whipped out the headlamps and flashlights and backtracked down to Simpson Beach, the waves barely visible in the fading light. And from there, it was just a short walk to the bright lights of Shore Acres State Park, the glow in the inky black forest advertising the Christmas light display from afar like the neon lights of Las Vegas do as you approach on a lonely desert highway.

Shore Acres at its Christmas finest

Shore Acres State Park goes all out for Christmas and the formal gardens were flamboyantly adorned with all manner of lights, colors, and Christmas motifs. The grounds were a fairyland of glowing colors and a choir serenaded visitors from a brightly lit pavilion. Neon frogs jumped from lily pad to lily pad in the reflecting pond and heron statues eternally stalked but never caught a school of koi statues that never swam away. And, as is its wont, the reflecting pond contained a mirror world of light and color living their lives underneath the surface. As far as the kids were concerned though, the highlight of the Shore Acres gardens was free hot cider and a peek at Santa enjoying a bubble bath in the caretaker's cottage.

Excuse me, I'm taking a BATH here!
(How we got on the naughty list)

I've been night-hiking in the Cape Arago area for many years now and often felt like I was the only one adventurous enough to do such a thing. However, in recent years, it has been a more common occurrence to encounter hikers walking from Sunset Bay to Shore Acres, their presence announced in advance by headlights bobbing and weaving like drunk fireflies in the forest. There's a really good reason to night hike, beside the fact that night hiking in general is an awesome experience, and that is because the traffic into Shore Acres is horrendous, often backing up for several miles. But the train of cars were nice enough to us to let us make a left turn out of the parking lot and we felt grateful and maybe a little bit smug at having avoided the long line of vehicles moving slower than we could hike in the dark.

Season's greetings!

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

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Cape Arago

It's Oregon Coast Time, in terms of our hiking itinerary. Gone are those hikes high up in our beloved Cascade Mountains, because rainy weather down in the Umpqua Valley translates to snow in the higher elevations. Therefore, we tend to find ourselves a bit more often on the coast where the weather is generally more conducive to the wonderful avocation of hiking, even though there is an increased probability of getting soaked by rain, buffeted by wind, or crapped on by a seagull. And out of all the destinations on the coast, Cape Arago is definitely one of our favorites because of its relative proximity to Roseburg and the always reliably spectacular scenery.

The ocean was quiet...too quiet

Eons ago, the incredibly rocky and scenic shoreline at Cape Arago was formed when seismic events tilted the sea floor upward around 45 degrees. Nowadays, the resultant inclined sedimentary layers make for some incredible waves when the ocean kamikazes itself upon the rocks at high tide. Much photography ensues when this happens, and not just by me either, the area is quite popular with shutterbugs and hikers alike. Given the awesome ocean wavery in the area, we eagerly dashed up to the top of the forested bluffs overlooking Sunset Bay, fully prepared to be awed by the raging surf. Oops, we were ever so disappointed in the narcoleptically calm ocean, as still as a cat napping on a window sill, even though it was high tide. Heck, we might as well fold up our hiking poles and go home.

The beauty of the Cape Arago coast

The normally restless surf was serene and peaceful but despite that sad failing, the coast nonetheless was quite beautiful. The jagged shore was sticking its many rocky fingers up the ocean's nostrils, figuratively speaking, and the trail followed the serrated shoreline, meaning we went in, out, and around a series of coves and gulches. When the route veered inland and away from the coast, we found ourselves ambling through a green coastal forest full of sprouting fungi and mushrooms.

What do you call a chair with feet?
A toed stool!

Rachel was photographing a mushroom when Dave said "Wow, he looks like a fun guy!". Fun guy? Fungi? Get it? Rachel apparently did because she groaned audibly. I asked her to pick up a couple of fungi specimens, telling her if she did so, she'd be a "woman with loose morels!" Dave and I high-fived each other in congratulatory exultation while Rachel quickly scurried off, refusing to walk any further in our company. Wow, Rachel must have thought she was being pun-ished, but she was correct in her assumption.

Trees, personally invested in the outcome of rising sea levels

One aspect of climate change is rising sea levels and at Shore Acres, there are disturbing signs of the change mankind has wrought. Several times over the years, the trail has had to have been rerouted further inland because the old paths have tumbled into the sea as Oregon crumbles under the relentless maritime onslaught. In some places, they put fences on the old trails to keep hikers out but those fences have likewise tumbled into the sea as the coastline continues to erode. Also, the path sideswipes the old Shore Acres tennis court and now the erosion has eaten away at a corner of the old court. I can remember when not too long ago, it was safely out of reach, dozens of yards away from the ocean and eroding waves.

Tafoni formations at Shore Acres

Over the ages, the waves have exposed a rocky bench sited below the tennis court, uncovering all sorts of phantasmagorical rock formations and an ossified log or two. The formations here have always reminded me of the cemetary scene in a horror movie where zombies emerge from their graves. But today the rock formations did not want to eat my brains (and good luck finding any!) so I scrambled down there to observe and photograph the concretions and tafoni (rock formations that look like Swiss cheese) on the rocky bench.

The woods were full of mushrooms

The observation point at Shore Acres was amazingly still and quiet, both in terms of lack of people and crashing waves. But that's OK, there's nothing wrong with some peace and quiet and we enjoyed both of those things as we ducked into the woods and headed down to Simpson Beach. The woods were full of fungi and maybe a fun guy or two; much of my hiking time was spent lying on my belly on a muddy trail, taking photographs of the fungal splendors on the ground. 

What do you call an amphibian's hammer?
A toad's tool!

As we hiked in turn to the Simpson Reef viewpoint and to Cape Arago itself, the clouds became darker and the wind picked up a little bit. Clearly a storm was coming in so cameras were mostly put away and we hied it quickly down the trail so as to arrive at the trailhead before the sky broke loose. But, I had one more for Rachel. "Hey Rachel, what do you call a place to eat oatmeal!" I just get a blank look and a pair of shrugged shoulders. "A mushroom!" Mush room? Mushroom, get it?" Sheesh, tough crowd, I tell you!

Bad weather is coming

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

Cape Arago Night Hike 12/2017

Merry Christmas, everybody! Of course, it's late January as I type out this missive so a very, very, very belated "Season's Greetings!" to all my readers (assuming I have any). I suppose I could take the position that I am seasonally greeting far in advance of next Christmas but everybody knows I'm not that organized. Anyway, the reason Christmas came up is that the hike I'm writing about today is my semi-annual Christmas night hike to Shore Acres and Cape Arago. And by "semi-annual", I mean not quite every year, it sort of depends on my mood, the weather, and whether my followers have sufficiently sung enough laudatory praises and accolades. Whining helps, too.

Cape Aragaliens

This year, enough sycophantic-toned requests for this hike rolled in, and it looked like the weather was going to give us a break. Since I was in the mood too, it was a perfect storm of proper hiking conditions and this hike was quickly penciled onto the hiking calendar. Unlike years past, the Roseburg contingent showing up for the hike was sparse, consisting of me, Daweson, Diana, and Brad. However, a like-numbered crew from Coos Bay showed up, bringing our numbers up to a more proper 8 hikers.

The spectacular coast at Cape Arago

Strange though, when we arrived at Sunset Bay at the duly appointed hour, it was just us Roseburgians. Turned out, some of the Coos Bayliens (ha, just made that up!) had parked further up the large parking lot and Rachel, who was parked right next to where we would park, wandered over there to talk to them. While they were all prattling their Coos Bay prattle, we were industriously lacing up our boots and setting out on the trail. Thinking we were running late, our Coos Bay friends waited another half-hour before Rachel took charge and led them on a very fast hike to catch up with us, which they did at Cape Arago. I believe that was the very first time Rachel ever led a hike and she did such a fine job, she earned a spot on the "list" of upcoming hike leaders. Of course, her biggest fear was that we would not be at the cape and she'd have to lead her people back in the inky black of night. 

Phatasmagorical rock formation

My grandson Daweson is a growing lad, so his boots fit too tight and he popped some debilitating blisters. Darn kid needs to stop growing so fast! Because of the blisters, he had to put out at Shore Acres and Diana stayed with him, so it was just me and Brad continuing on to Cape Arago. As we hiked along the rugged coast, the sun was sinking low in the late afternoon and waves lapped up against the shoreline cliffs. Brad made some comment about large waves and I responded with a dismissive "Pssh", explaining to him that this was low tide and he should come back during high tide to see what real waves looked like.

Simpson Beach was a sea lion sick bay

Simpson Beach was under quarantine as a sick sea lion was recuperating on the sand. Apparently there is an outbreak of leptopirosis affecting sea lions all along the Oregon coast. Respecting the wishes of the park, we merely sideswiped a corner of the beach as we continued hiking south to Cape Arago. And by the way, the following Monday I called in sick with leptopirosis and they bought it!

"You go first!"

The weather gods were so very kind to us at Cape Arago. It had been a semi cloudy, semi-sunny day and a raft of clouds hovered overhead, ready and fully prepared to squelch a would-be spectacular sunset. But when the sun slipped below the clouds, the sky and sea turned brilliant orange while appreciative hikers oohed and aahed. I was fully engrossed taking pictures of the sunset show when somebody smacked me in the back of my head and said in a British accent "There you are!" And a "Happy Trails!" to you too, Rachel. 

Ooh...aah!

There is no sunset like an Oregon coastal sunset and we enjoyed the show as we pieced together the events that led us to hike in two separate groups. As the sun dropped behind the horizon, we gathered up our gear and headed back the way we had come. We enjoyed the view of the coast as day morphed into night and finally, I whipped out my puny headlamp and officially commenced the night hike portion of this hike.

Rachel models the proper night hike attire and attitude

Suddenly, behind me, there was a huge blinding light that illuminated virtually all of southern Oregon. In fact, the astronauts in the space lab orbiting the planet reported an unusual "light event" on the west coast of the United States. Jets were scrambled to find the source and Area 51 went to threat level "Bright Light". Well, it was just Brad and his atomic-powered headlamp. I'm not sure how many lumens it was putting out, but it was bright as a miniature sun, overpowering all the headlamps in front of him. Plus, it kept us warm as we hiked through the cold night.

One small piece of the Shore Acres gardens

Besides a spectacular Cape Arago sunset, one other reason for doing this hike at night during Christmas season is to cruise through the Shore Acres gardens. Shore Acres was once the baronial estate of timber magnate Louis J. Simpson. The actual lordly mansion at Shore Acres burned down and no longer exists but the caretaker's cottage is still there, presiding over some stately gardens. And this time of year, the gardens are bedecked with Christmas lights of every color possible within the visible light spectrum. A plethora of kinetic light displays offer up flying pelicans, leaping frogs and splashing orcas while Christmas carolers serenade visitors from a brightly lit pavilion. I was still wearing my headlamp (turned off) and a woman asked me where the cave was. Seriously, that really did happen.

Fierce creatures

After enjoying the lights in the garden it was time to head back. There is a point where you have to cross a road and find a faint path to the main trail but with the assistance of Brad's atomic light, it was unusually easy to find. As we walked through a pitch-black forest I was telling Daweson about how you can often see eyes reflecting back at you when you wear headlamps. And right on cure, four eyes were floating in the forest ahead of us. Upon closer inspection it was a mother deer and her fawn. They disappeared in a puff of smoke when Brad shined his atomic light beam on them.

Daweson models his teenager's angst

Anyway, a good time was had by all, except for maybe Daweson's right foot. We'll have to do that again in a couple of years and Merry Christmas, everyone!

Merry Christmas!

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

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