Thursday, July 2, 2021
- Starting Point: Umpqua Lighthouse State Park
- End Point: North Bend/Coos Bay
- Daily Miles: 22.5 miles
- Cumulative OCT miles: 270.6 miles
Once the toddler in the RV simmered down last night and stopped screaming at the top of his lungs, it was a peaceful evening in the hiker-biker camp.
The rain fell pretty constant all night long, providing a soothing pitter-patter backdrop on my tent. The overnight temperature dropped low enough to be just a bit chilly, but I was nestled down in my quilt and felt so cozy. Perfect weather for sleeping.
All told it was a surprisingly good night and I was feeling much more positive when I woke up at 6:30 am. The rain was slowing out to a misty drizzle, and fog lingered over the campground. Yet I had hot coffee and oatmeal, so I wasn’t bothered in the least.
LIGHTHOUSES
I packed up my damp gear and departed by 7:20 am, making my around the edge of Lake Marie and then to the overlook by the lighthouse.
The Umpqua River Lighthouse is the 6th public lighthouse on the Oregon Coast I’ve passed while hiking the OCT. There’s been:
- Tillamook Head Lighthouse, the decommissioned lighthouse out on the island by itself. I originally spotted it from the cliffs of Tillamook Head (by the log cabin hiker camp), and then again the next morning down near Indian Beach.
- Cape Meares Lighthouse, the short, squat lighthouse at the end of Cape Meares that I visited on Day 4 of my hike – in between my detour out to the tallest sitka spruce in the state and the Octopus Tree. Although its lens is no longer in operation, the lighthouse is usually open to the public for tour (on non-pandemic years).
- Yaquina Head Lighthouse, that tall lighthouse I saw winking at me on Day 6 of my hike. Once I made it around Schooner Point (the keyhole opening that I’d been unable to get through because of the tide), it beaconed me the rest of the way into Newport.
- Yaquina Bay Lighthouse, the lighthouse that sits on the northern side of Yaquina Bay near Newport. Although I walked right above it (on my way to South Beach State Park), I didn’t get the chance to see during my hike because the bay was completely socked in by fog. It’s a shame too, because I know it’s one of the more unique looking lighthouses on the coast.
- Heceta Head Lighthouse, the tall red and white lighthouse that I stood above two days ago after climbing up the Hobbit Trail and Heceta Head Trail. The warm glow of the lens felt magical up close – especially since I had it all to myself in the early morning hours.
And now, this morning, I was passing the Umpqua River Lighthouse. This is the where the first lighthouse on the entire Oregon Coast was built.
Ok. That’s not 100% accurate. The original lighthouse was erected in 1857, but it was built too close to the river and collapsed into the Umpqua in 1861. By then, the federal government was busy fighting the Civil War and less focused on inoperable lighthouses, so a replacement lighthouse wasn’t re-built here until 1894.
The new lighthouse was constructed further inland, 100 feet above the bluffs of Winchester Bay. At 61 feet tall it’s just slightly taller than the Heceta Head Lighthouse, but otherwise the two lighthouses are virtually identical. That’s because they were built close in time to each other and using the same construction plans.
Visitors can climb to the top of the Umpqua River Lighthouse on tours led by the nearby museum, but it was far too early in the day for that today. The museum didn’t open until 10 am.
BEACHWALKING
After I passed the lighthouse and museum, I had to weave my way down a paved road – though the Umpqua Dunes campground, and past ATV dunes and the Half Moon Bay Campground – before I finally made it back out to the beach.
There was huge amounts of driftwood lining the edge of the dunes, forcing me to pick my way over and through it like a giant puzzle, before making it back out to the wet sand near the water’s edge.
The fog along the beach was dense enough that I couldn’t see out to the end of the Umpqua River’s unique triangular jetty. But I did come across some tiny prints in the sand from an animal and I suspect they might have been from a river otter!
As I worked my way farther south on this a cool, cloudy morning, my environment was completely empty. I was the only human out walking along this section of the beach, and I struggled to keep myself entertained.
I was parallel to the Oregon Dunes again, with northing but sand, sand, and more sand. The sameness of the geography was a buzzkill. I’d seen this all before. Both yesterday and the day before. I couldn’t wait to get past these boring dunes already.
I tried to make the best of it though and focused on the wildlife. I didn’t see any seals today, but there were plenty of birds around. I spotted one bald eagle. And a few cranes flying north.
There were dozens of snowy plovers running back and forth along the wet sand. As each wave went out, they ran after it. Then as a new wave lapped up, they scurried back up the beach in a quick retreat like children were trying to keep their feet dry.
I suspect this humorous dance was some sort of breakfast ritual. In all likelihood they were really searching for the little insects and crustaceans burrowing their way into the sand with each wave.
And of course, there were plenty of obnoxious seagulls out there too. More than I could count. At one point I began to give them imaginary names just to distract myself from the mindless walking.
I went in alphabetic order starting with the girls: Andrea, Beatrice, Carol, Darla, Emily, Francine, Genevieve, etc. When I got to the end of the alphabet, I worked my way backwards with boy names. Zed, Yuri, Xavier, Wilbur, Ulysses, Victor, etc…
Whatever it took to make the time go by.
After 8.5 miles, I eventually made it to Ten Mile Creek, which didn’t look all that deep or wide at mid-tide. Nevertheless, it came all the way up to my knees as I forded across it barefoot. I was surprised how cold water the seemed too. It’s the middle of the summer and it was still freezing.
MAD MAX
On the far side of the creek, a new world awaited me. It was no longer just me and the birds as I walked beside the dunes. Now it was all about the crazy world of OHV and ATV riders zooming up and down the beach.
The folks I’d met at Driftwood II campground two nights ago had been super kind and well-mannered. But, these patricular OHV riders were are completely different breed. Most of them had flags flying from their vehicles. And they longer I looked, the most dismal the scene became.
It started with a few state and American flags. Then some yellow Gadsden flags. And then MAGA flags, Trump 2020 flags, and Trump 2024 flags. But once I spotted the Confederate flag, well I knew for sure…
These were definitely NOT my people.
The next four hours of my day would be filled with chaos from these aggressive riders. I’d try to stick close to the waters’ edge, while large groups of people came racing toward me like a scene from Max Max.
Some of the riders were busy seeing how much sand they could spray in the air while spinning donuts on the beach. Others were seeing how fast they could go up and down the dunes with no regard for their safety of anyone else around them. The pandemonium was mind blowing.
I tried to ignore them all to the best of my ability, because they certainly weren’t adding anything positive to my OCT experience.
After a few miles, I wanted to take a break, but I struggled to find somewhere I could safely sit and rest with my lunch. There were so many riders heading up and down the beach, I worried that I’d get run over or, at a minimum, get sand in my lap.
I eventually settled on a spot in between two giant driftwood logs hoping that would duly barricade me from the continuous traffic. It was virgin sand, with no tracks running though it, so I knew I wasn’t on a trail or regular access route down to the beach.
But even that careful planning was a misstep. I was barely seated five minutes before a group of four OHVs began slowly making their way up on the soft sand where I was sitting just to see how close they could get to me.
It seemed as if they were intentionally trying to antagonize me and to provoke a confrontation. They literally drove within 10 feet of me, even though there was absolutely no reason to do so.
I didn’t take the bait though. They could be jerks if they wanted. But I didn’t have to stoop to their level.
After lunch, I decided to just tune the nonsense out. I was going to stick to the waterline and the wet sand and avoid the riders to the best of my ability.
I’d take advantage of the fact that today had far less wind or rain than the past few days. I put in my headphones and droned out the revving engine sounds with an audiobook until I got down to Horsefall Beach.
COOS BAY
I knew I’d reached my marker to turn inland when I saw a shipwreck emerging from the water’s edge. Much like the wreck of the Peter Iredale to the north, the remains of the Sujameco were solidly beached in the sand here.
The Sujameco was a freighter trying to cross Coos Bay in 1929 when its captain encountered heavy fog and rain. Thinking he was further north than he actually was, the captain inadvertently ran the ship aground at Horsefall Beach.
The freighter’s crew remained aboard for weeks hoping to move the boat back to sea and free her from the sand. They never succeed though, and today the ship’s iron skeleton remains half buried in the sand.
Once I made it to Horsefall Beach, I was 17.5 miles into the day and looking forward to finishing the final 5 miles into town. Keith and Finn were driving out to the coast and planned to meet me in Simpson Park near the North Bend Visitor’s Center.
I’d be done with the Central Oregon Coast section of the OCT In another two hours. I’d walked 130 miles from Depoe Bay to North Bend over the past six day’s time.
And even though I’d failed miserably at taking it easy (my plan had been to just hike 18-20 miles per day), I was pretty excited to come to the realization that I was now 2/3 of the way done with the OCT. All that was left on this journey was the Southern Coast.
But first I needed to make it to town, and that turned out to be more difficult and scarier than I expected.
The difficulty came with the wind. Once I made it past the southern end of the Oregon Dunes Recreation Area, I was confronted with the open bay and some insane wind. The gusts were so strong I was literally struggling to walk straight as I made my way to Highway 101.
Ahead of me, I could see McCullough Bridge, the 1-mile long span that crosses Coos Bay. The bridge was incredibly long and high. My palms were getting sweaty just thinking about walking along the edge of it.
If the gusting wind was this intense on the ground, what was it going to feel like way up there?!?
But, I didn’t have much of a choice. That’s where the OCT went, and my rendezvous point was on the opposite side of the bay. Time to hitch up my pants and get walking.
When I arrived at the north end of the bridge, I soon discovered the sidewalk I’d intended to walk on (facing oncoming traffic) was closed for construction.
There was an available sidewalk on the other side of the bridge. But that meant I’d have to walk with my back to the road traffic, unable to see the giant trucks and RVs coming up behind me so I could brace myself for the inevitable forceful ‘whoosh’ of air they would bring with them.
The wind was still strong as I climbed up over Coos Bay, and I kept my eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of me instead of looking out across my surroundings.
One-hundred percent of my effort was focused on staying firmly on the raised sidewalk as the crosswind tried to push me toward the lane of traffic to my immediately left.
I made it to far end of the bridge unscathed, where a sign told me all about Conde McCullough, the engineer from the 1930s who designed all the cool art deco bridges I’d been walking across as I made my way down the coast. I’d been on the bridges he designed over Yaquina Bay (in Newport), Alsea Bay (in Waldport), the Siuslaw River (in Florence), the Umpqua River (in Reedsport), and Coos Bay just now.
It seems McCullough was a real visionary, but he did have one major shortcoming. He’d given into the facial hair fads of the mid-1930s, and was now captured with a very, very unfortunate mustache in his official photograph.
Just beyond the bridge, a giant sign welcomed me to North Bend. Just to be clear, the towns of North Bend and Coos Bay are really just one single city. But they locals like to pretend it’s two distinct places.
North Bend’s name reflects its geographic location at the northern bend of Coos Bay, and it lays claim to airport and the indoor shopping mall. Meanwhile Coos Bay is further south and is home to the museums, the touristy retail shops and restaurants, and all the waterfront piers.
I wasn’t planning to visit any part of it though. Instead, I was heading to Simpson Park, where I’d return home to Eugene for the 4th of July holiday weekend. Then, after a few days of R&R with the family, I return to the coast and finish up this trail!
Highlights
- I enjoyed my early morning walk past the Umpqua River Lighthouse. That’s one more Oregon Coast lighthouse to add to my growing list.
- I was elated to finally making it to the end of the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. I’m so ready to enter the southern coast and visually mix it up again. The dunes were not my jam.
- Learning about Conde McCullough’s 20th century bridge legacy on the Oregon Coast. I’ve now walked across all 5 of them on my thru-hike!
Challenges
- Today was filled with miles upon miles of flat sand with nothing on the horizon to pique my interest. Thank goodness I found ways to occupy my mind. The last three days of the OCT have been the least scenic miles of the coast thus far.
- Sharing the beach with OHVs and ATVs was pure chaos. In fairness, a small percentage of people gave me a wide berth, there were more than enough jack-holes out there to really leave a sour taste in my mouth.
- Walking across the mile-long bridge over Coos Bay with a strong cross wind. Talk about scary!!