Friday June 11, 2021
- Start Point: Nehalem State Park
- End Point: Barview Jetty
- Daily Distance: 11.1
- Cumulative OCT mileage: 63.6 miles
In the end, I’m glad I made it all the way to Nehalem Bay State Park’s hiker-biker camp last night. It was quiet and there was plenty of water from a nearby spigot. Plus, there were bathrooms and showers, and even a place to charge my phone and lock up my phone in the storage lockers nearby. These amenities felt like a luxury!
There were a few downsides to staying in the park that are worth mentioning though.
First off, the hiker-biker camp was located right near the park’s entrance. The ranger booth where people stopped to pay there entrance and camping fees was just a few hundred feet away. And the floodlight on the outside of that building stays lit all night long! It felt like someone was shining their headlamp at my tent all night long.
Second, the park uses elevated tent pads in the hiker-biker camp. I don’t know if there were built is because the area was prone to flooding (and they wanted to keep our tents elevated and dry) or if they just wanted to designate a limited number of spot where people should camp.
These perfectly square raised plots might work well for a freestanding tent, but they were less than idea for my narrow, long Gossamer Gear trekking pole tent. Staking out my tent on the tent platform was nearly impossible. Its shape didn’t allow me to get enough tension on the guy lines to keep the tent upright when the stakes were within the boundary of the raised bed. But my tent’s guy lines weren’t long enough to put the stakes further out on the ground that sat below the raised bed either.
So it took me several tries, and many different maneuvers, before I found the diagonal position on the tent platform to get my tent standing up securely. Far more mental effort than I had in my reserves after a hard day.
The third, and final downside was the of the hiker-biker camp was the area was lousy with mosquitos! I have never been to a beach where mosquitos were an issue. But the little grove of trees where the camp was located seemed to be infested with them!
So, even though I was happy to have the other amenities, I’d definitely warn other OCT hikers about the downsides of staying at Nehalem Bay so they can be prepared for these minor hassles!
NEHALEM BAY
A storm rolled in around 3 am and woke me enough that I had to get up and pee. My bladder was ready to burst and there was no way I was going to be able to hold it until morning.
And since the hiker-biker camp was lit up like a prison yard (from the floodlight on the ranger station), I didn’t want to just pee outside my tent. I’d have to make a run for the bathrooms and get drenched in the rain. Sigh.
I tried to fall back asleep after that episode, but I couldn’t. My stomach was grumbling and I was famished. It was the middle of the night, but I hadn’t really eaten enough over the past two days to keep up with the calories I was burning. It was the dreaded hiker hunger, and I was barely into this journey!
Unfortunately, I’d locked my food bag in the locker on the edge of camp so I wouldn’t have to worry about an aggressive squirrels gnawing their way in at night. So it was back out into the rain, yet again, to get something to eat so my stomach would give me some peace.
All told, I was probably up for an hour – between my bathroom trip, my snack trip, and then trying to fall back to sleep – so I didn’t actually wake up again until 7 am. Well after the sun was up. Oh well, it was only a half day today. I just needed to get 11 miles south to Barview Jetty.
I packed all my gear up in the misting rain and I figured it was time to break out my poncho. I wasn’t going to perfectly stay dry in it, but at least it would keep me warm and allow for some airflow while I hiked.
As I made my way back out to the beach around 8 am, I was surprised to see I wasn’t alone. Three people on horseback were heading north on the beach and coming my way. I knew Nehalem Bay State Park had quirky amenities (like an airstrip with a ‘fly-in’ primitive campground), but I didn’t realize I’d see horses out here!
I’d later learn the park has a horse camp, with their own campsites. There’s also a stable and horse concession, where guests can arrange for beach rides in the summer between Memorial Day and Labor Day! So in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised to see several riders on the beach here.
Shortly after my horse encounter, the rain picked up from the mostly light drizzle to a heavy, steady rainfall. It was only maybe 45 degrees, rainy, and I faced a strong headwind. Not a fun way to begin the day.
Ahead of me, I could see a seagull on the beach trying to move something large with its beak. Whatever it was, it was way too heavy for him. As I got closer, the seagull picked his prize up and tried to run toward the water with it, but the weight addled his progress to just a few feet.
He struggled some more, but as the gap between us narrowed, he had to choose. Which was more important? Getting away from the danger I posed as I advanced closer and closer? Or keeping hold of his treasure? He finally picked safety, abandoning the large item in the sand and flying off.
Now I was curious. What was this giant thing that seagull was so enamored with? Was it a piece of trash from the campground? And if so, why was it so heavy?
Once I was got within a few steps of the item, I immediately recognized it. That greedy little seagull found a giant starfish washed up on the sand. This poor little guy must have remained behind as the tide went out this morning, helpless without the waves to carry it back to safety. And now this stupid seagull though he had a meal for days.
I don’t know the bird intended to fit this thing down his gullet, given that the sea star was 4-5 times as big as his head. But now the opportunity would be gone. I delicately used one of my trekking poles to nudge the starfish back into the nearby ocean.
In my hierarchy of marine life out here on the Oregon Coast, birds that try to shit on my head are going to lose out every time.
River crossing
Even though today was a short day, it was noteworthy because it would include my first actual water crossing – the Nehalem River. Over the last two days, I’d only had a few small rivers and estuaries to deal with. I’d had a short detour around the Necanicum Estuary back near Seaside, and then Ecola Creek near Cannon Beach.
Both of those water crossings had bridges just a few hundred yards inland so pedestrians and cars could use to get over them. It was super easy and convenient.
The Nehalem River was a different beast altogether. As the river curved down from the coastal mountain range toward the town Manzanita, it widened out to a large bay where the native Salish people have been fishing and crabbing as long as they’ve been on the Oregon Coast.
The river’s width narrow to about 1000 feet near its outlet, but it was too deep and dangerous to ford, even at low tide. So, OCT hikers had two options: (1) take the 9-mile paved detour on Highway 101 from Manzanita to Nedonna Beach; (2) or get a boat ride across the Nehalem River.
Luckily, this is one of the easiest rivers to find a ride across. The state park sits on the north side of the river and Jetty Fishery Marina and RV Park side on the south side. All hikers have to do is call the Jetty when they arrive at the river and arrange for a boat to shuttle them across.
But first, I’d need to make my way down and around the sandy spit that bordered the edge of the bay. At the end of the Nehalem Spit, I saw my first signs warning me that I was entering a snowy plower nesting area.
The rain was letting up again as I waded through ankle-deep sand to the chirping soundtrack snowy plovers this morning. As I trod past chest-high shrubs and bushes with bright yellow flowers, I was amazed at how many plants can take root and thrive in this sand.
I made my way down toward the water’s edge, descending down a rugged wall of slick, wet black boulders, and could finally see the marina on the opposite side. Now I just needed to dial the Jetty’s number and identify myself as a hiker needed a ride across.
The woman on the end of the line was as nice as could be, and told me to make my way over to the big wooden pylon buried on my side of the river. It was sticking 10 feet into the air like a totem pole. That was where the boat would meet me. Just wait there — someone would be right over.
As I stood there patiently waiting from my ride in the rain, I saw something pop up in the middle of the river. What the …?!?
Then I realized it was a seal! And he seemed to be watching me. He’d pop his head above the water, stare directly at me, then duck back under just as quickly. A few seconds later, his round gray head would pop up in a different spot, and the he’d repeat it all over again.
This went on for several minutes until I heard a boat engine roar to life. Then the seal seemed to disappear entirely. I might have thought I was hallucinating the entire interaction, but I was able to get a quick video of one of his brief visits.
The ride across in the yellow metal boat only took 2-3 minutes. Then I needed to head inside to pay the woman I spoke to on the phone $10 for the shuttle service. That might sound like a lot of money for a two-minute boat ride, but it saved me 9 miles of roadwalking in the cold rain. So it was money well spent in my opinion.
As I paid for the shuttle, the lady at the Jetty told me the easiest way to get back to the ocean. Walk down the railroad tracks for a little more than 10 minutes, she told me. And keep your eyes open for a wooden staircase that leads down to the houses at Nedonna Beach.
I wanted to take the stairs, she said, or else I’d be stuck walking the railroad tracks all the way down Manhattan Beach.
I thanked her for the advice (and for providing the boat shuttle crossing option for OCT hikers) and she told me to try to stay dry. The rain was going to be here all day.
Finding the stairs was a piece of cake, but I’m glad I’d known to look for them because the overgrown foliage and wet tracks had me focused on other things. Once down the two flights of stairs, I was back at sea level again and in the Tsunami Zone according to all the nearby signs.
Only 6.5 miles left and I’d be done for the day.
Barview Jetty
The final few miles of beachwalking were relatively uneventful. The sand was packed hard and very few people were out on the beach, so it was easy walking.
The rain would slow to a drizzle for a bit, then the wind would shift and the sky would open, blowing heavy cold rain directly into my face.
Everything was gray, and there wasn’t much to see on this cold, gloomy morning. The only thing breaking up the flat horizon was a big rock formation out in the ocean named Twin Rocks. And once I was past them, it was completely flat again for as far as I could see.
It was a crummy day to be hiking on the coast, if I’m being completely honest. I was cold. I was wet. It was raining. And there wasn’t much to see.
But, I knew there was something good waiting for me at the end of this flat stretch of sand. Once I got to the tall rock jetty protruding out into the ocean, I would be at my destination – Barview Jetty Campground.
This campground was at the mouth of Tillamook Bay, a spot I knew well from many past visits to the Oregon Coast. Keith and Finn were camping there and a giant tent awaited me at their campsite. All I needed to do was keep walking and soon I’d be warm and dry again.
I could hear the fog horn sounding ahead of me. Each May, the Coast Guard installs a temporary sound signal (aka fog horn) at the end of this long rock jetty to help boaters as they approach Tillamook Bay’s narrow channel. Then each October, the they remove the navigation aid to protect it from the fierce winter storms.
I was well into the fog horn season, so I could hear the siren-like whine sounding every 30 seconds or so, beckoning me as I got closer toward my destination.
When I finally reached the sandy campground tucked into the woods, I was famished. It was definitely lunchtime. But first, I needed some dry clothes. My shoes were caked in wet sand. My fingers ached from the chill. All my clothing was damp. And once I stopped continuously moving, I could feel the cold moving into my bones.
After I’d changed into my dry town clothes, we piled into Keith’s car and drove down to Tillamook while the heater warmed my toes back up. Time for a food, and lots of it!
And so, we settled in for lunch at Pelican Brewing, where I shared all the exciting details of the past 60+ miles of the OCT while enjoying on a giant flight of beer.
This is my second brewery visit in the past three days. I think I might love this trail. If only the weather were better!
Highlights
- Passing the riders out on the sand in the early morning rain. It was a pleasant novelty to see horses walking the beach.
- Watching the seal frolicking in Nehalem River while waiting on the boat to ferry me across. It felt like he was doing a lot of showing off for an audience of one.
- Ending my day in a nice, warm clothes. Add in some local craft beer, and I’m feeling as good as new!
Challenges
- The crummy Oregon Coast weather. Hiking in 40-50 degree rain and wind isn’t fun. Trust me!
- Haven’t been eating enough food each day, and my hiker hunger has definitely set in. I’m going to need to manage my calories better on this upcoming leg leaving Tillamook