Saturday June 26, 2021
- Start Point: Depoe Bay
- End Point: South Beach State Park
- Daily Miles: 18.8 miles
- Cumulative OCT miles: 158.6 miles
At the end of my last post, I was just walking into Depoe Bay to meet up with Keith and Finn. Instead of trying to figure out a less than ideal stealth tent spot again, I’d decided to camp with them at their existing campsite about 20 miles down the coast.
And why not? Their spot was paid for. They had their tent already set up. And I could take use all that extra space to care of the painful blisters that seemed to have formed on the balls of my feet from the last three days of so much roadwalking.
Keith was appalled when he saw how torn up my feet looked. We hadn’t crossed paths on my Appalachian Trail thru-hike until I was 500 miles into that journey. So he never saw the ugly transition from nice, soft ‘town feet’ to calloused, rough ‘thru-hiker feet’ that always seems to happen in the first 150-200 miles of a hike.
I can’t blame the condition of my feet entirely on the roadwalking or my trail shoes though. There were a few other contributing factors. Like the 25-mile days I’d been putting in, which honestly, was definitely too much mileage this early into my journey. Plus, there’s my unwillingness to immediately stop and treat any hot spots as soon as I felt them.
So yeah. All told, my feet were a real mess!
Keith and Finn were already planning to head back home to Eugene the following day, so he spent some time that evening convincing me I needed to go home for a few days and recuperate too.
If I didn’t take care of my body and swap out my shoes now, I might not finish this hike in once piece. Perhaps he was right. It was better to take a few zeros now than to bail halfway through my hike from a preventable injury.
So that’s what I did. I went home. I spent a few days taking care of my feet. And I used the time to adjust my packing list for the reality of the OCT. My typical backcountry gear choices weren’t cutting it.
My first obvious gear change was swapping out my trusty trail shoes for something more cushioned. I had a pair of Altra running shoes in my closet. Lots of cushioning and a wide toe box. Perfect for any lengthy road walks in my future.
My second change was to my tent. As much as I dig my Gossamer Gear single-wall, trekking pole tent, it’s just not a good fit for the OCT. I needed a freestanding shelter on all this sand. Something that will easily withstand the ever-present wind on the coast. And something double-walled to deal with the moisture and condensation.
That’s why I switched back to my trusty Nemo Hornet 2P tent — the same one I used on the AT back in 2019. Old reliable always gets the job done, even if it weighs a pound more. But since I don’t need to carry as much food on this hike, it all evened out, right?
After a some rest and these minor gear changes, I was ready to head back to Depoe Bay to pick up where I left off.
DEPOE BAY
We didn’t depart Eugene as early as I’d hoped this morning, so I didn’t make it to the coast until just after 9 am. Despite the mid-morning hour, the weather was downright chilly when we arrived in Depoe Bay.
I shouldn’t complaint though. A heat dome was supposed to descend on the Pacific Northwest this week, bringing 110-degree temperatures to Portland and the entire Willamette Valley.
Meanwhile, the coastal temperatures out here on the coast were barely expected to reach the upper-60s to low-70s! It’s the perfect time to be out on the Oregon Coast Trail.
So it was back to Depoe Bay, which is a pretty nondescript little town, with two exceptions.
First, it’s known as the “whale watching capital of the Oregon Coast.” Each year tourists flock to the town to book charter boat rides out into the Pacific Ocean to watch the pod of resident gray whales that hang out just off the coastline. There’s even a whale watching visitor center run by the Oregon State Parks in town (though it’s currently closed due to to Covid).
The second notable aspect of Depoe Bay is that it claims to have the smallest active harbor in the world. Here a narrow channel runs from the Pacific Ocean into a tiny, sheltered 6-acre cove.
Keith dropped me off this morning just north of the harbor, so I could check out the harbor up close. I was even able to descend some stairs and get underneath the bridge to check out how truly skilled the boat captains have to be to get in and out of there.
Meanwhile, the tourists weren’t out in force yet. It was Saturday and the town was still fairly quiet when I started walking south, weaving my way through the roads that paralleled the highway on the way to Whale Cove.
After a short stint on Highway 101 (where I was treated to views of some giant raccoon roadkill lying on the double yellow line), a small OCT maker pointed me down to a trail behind the Whale Cove Inn.
The trail soon hit a dead-end at a wooden viewing platform behind the inn. From here, tourists could stand and watch for whales without succumbing to the seasickness of riding on the open ocean. There weren’t any boats out in the water now, and I didn’t see any whales either, so it was back to the forest to resume the trail that led around the coastline toward Rocky Creek Park.
Today’s route is unusual in that was mostly off Highway 101, but not completely off pavement. The OCT and Oregon Coast Bike Route followed the Otter Crest Loop here, a scenic driving route that parallels the Highway between Rocky Creek scenic viewpoint to Otter Rock.
My first stop along this 5-mile route was Cape Foulweather. This basalt outcropping was the first part of the Oregon Coast that Captain James Cook spotted back in 1778. If its name is any indication, the area clearly it made a less than favorable impression on him though.
Atop Cape Foulweather sat a small building and visitor center named ‘The Lookout,’ but it was closed for the summer thanks to Covid. So I took in the ocean views and kept moving along
Further south, the Otter Crest Loop clung to the cliffs and provided a nice shady respite from the sun overhead. White arrows were painted on the roadway showing that it was a one-way route, though the road’s narrow width made that abundantly clear.
There wasn’t much car or bike traffic on the loop either, which was a nice reprieve. But it was still 5 miles of roadwalking. So I suppose it’s a good thing I’d switched to running shoes to cushion the pavement!
At the end of the loop, I took a detour through the side streets of Otter Rock before plunging down a flight to wooden stairs to the beach at Devil’s Punchbowl. It was late morning now, and there were dozens of surfers out on the beach looking to catch some waves.
Tourists were pouring onto the beach, from the nearby parking lots, laden with their beach chairs and blankets. Kids carried buckets and plastic shovels. This was clearly the place to be this morning and I had to weave my way around them for about a quarter mile.
But then, as I hiked farther south away from the beach access points, it transitioned to quiet uninterrupted beach for miles and miles.
BACKTRACKING
As I continued hiking down the sand by myself, a fog seemed to descend over the beach, obscuring the ocean and giving the coast an ominous, barren look. The only things to distract me here was the beach itself, and one instance of art that looked like crop circles drawn into the hard packed sand.
Despite the fog, I could see I was approaching Beverly Beach State Park well before I arrived. A crowd of people suddenly appeared on the sand in the distance. One minute it was complete solitude, and then dozens of people cropped up, seemingly out of nowhere.
Dogs were loose. Kids were running around and digging giant holes in the sand. And parents just tried to enjoy the cool as they avoided the heat dome descending inland.
Beverly Beach State Park is actually located on the opposite side of Highway 101, not on the beach. But there’s a path that follows Spencer Creek through the park, under the highway, and out to the ocean. So, in addition to dodging the new throng of beachgoers, I also needed to find a place to keep my shoes dry while crossing Spencer Creek’s outlet before it dumped into the ocean.
Once I got past the creek, the crowds completely disappeared again. Everyone seemed to contain themselves to a 100-yard area on either side of the creek. No one was walking up and down the beach or flying kites. They were all bottling themselves up in that tiny area for some reason.
Up ahead, I could see the faintest outline of Yaquina Head Lighthouse in the distance and a small headland with a keyhole temporarily blocked my way. This quiet spot was as good of a place as any to stop for lunch and enjoy watching the waves.
I hadn’t been paying attention to the ocean at all today, so I had no clue where I was in the cycle of low and high tides. After a few days away from the coast, I’d made a rookie mistake, and I forgot the importance the tides play on this hike.
Consequently, I was completely oblivious to the fact that the tide seemed to have come in several feet during the 45 minutes I’d been lounging on the beach and relaxing. And as I turned back toward the rock with the keyhole at Schooner Point, it no longer seemed passable on foot.
I could make my way up onto the wet rocks, but I couldn’t see what lay beyond on the other side of the giant opening. It could be a steep drop-off into the waves. Or slick rocks that sloped in such a way I wouldn’t be able to get a good foothold.
Going around the rock formation in the surf was equally risky. The water would be above my thighs, and it would only take one heavy wave crashing into me to force me off my footing or propel me against the jagged rocks.
I mentally chastised myself for being so absent-minded. I should have paid closer attention to the tides. If I’d gone around this obstacle when I had the chance, I might not be stranded in this spot right now.
Rather than forging ahead and putting myself in a potentially risk situation, I decided to play it safe. I’d backtrack a half mile to the last beach access point between some houses and detour around Schooner Point on Highway 101. It would take me an extra 20 minutes time, but that was far better than the perilous alternative.
Once I made it back to the beach again, my vision was completely focused on the lighthouse atop the cliffs in front of me. Every 20 steps or so, a bright beacon of light would flash in my direction. It was as if the light was punctuating the rhythm with my pace as I walked. Nineteen steps. Burst of light. Twenty steps. Burst of Light.
As I got closer to the base of the basalt headland that the lighthouse stood on, I lost sight of the flashes altogether. I was too far below it now, and I needed head inland into the town of Agate Beach to get to the opposite side of the rocky point.
As I passed the road out the lighhouse, I toyed with walking all the way out to see it up close, but then I decided to pass. I knew from my prior visits to Yaquina Head, that it was at the end of long road. And it was uphill most the way.
I’d recommend other OCT hikers visit it though. The Yaquina Head Lighthouse is still operational and there’s a visitor center nearby. The entrance fee is waived for hikers entering on foot, but I was too was too tired to hike up to the 200 vertical feet to see a lighthouse that I’ve visited many times before.
Plus, I suspected Yaquina Head would be super crowded today. It was a Saturday in late June, and peak season for the tourists. I’d rather return to Agate Beach and head south toward Newport, a town I knew and loved.
NEWPORT
Newport might be my favorite city on the entire Oregon Coast. It’s a large town, sitting on the Yaquina River, and it’s home to the Oregon Coast Museum. There’s a public pier for fishing and crabbing (I love crab) and at least three microbreweries in town.
Just a bit further south of Newport, sits South Beach State Park, one of the best campgrounds on the entire Oregon coast, and my destination this evening. I was tired of struggling to find a suitable beach camping spots on this hike, and I was ready to take advantage of the state parks that are more prevalent on the central part of the coast. I could hike nearly 20-mile days for the next week and land at a hiker-biker camp almost every night.
But first I had to get there. And maybe grab a beer in Newport on my way to camp.
After passing Yaquina Head, Agate Beach and Nye Beach were still ahead of me, and both were easy walking. The sand was nice and hard, and the only issue were the jellyfish dotting the sand. I knew I wanted to avoid them at all costs.
As I got to Nye Beach, the fog started to roll in and and get thicker. Then the wind would push it back out and I could see again. I suspect this meant it was going to be a moist night tonight.
Already I was seeing the benefits of swapping out my prior tent for the heavier one. Having a separate tent fly would mean no more overnight condensation pooling in my tent and threatening to get my down quilt damp.
The OCT continued down Nye Beach, all the way to the end of the where the rock jetty protects the river channel. From there, hikers normally make their inland to cross over the iconic green Yaquina Bay Bridge, and back out toward South Beach.
I, however, had another destination in mind this afternoon. I wanted to try out Newport Brewing Company. Every time we come out to Newport to visit, we tend to stop at Rogue Ales, because it’s right off the public fishing pier and has wonderful views iconic of the art-deco inspired bridge in the background.
But since I’m solo on this hike, I have the flexibility to try something new. So, I left the beach at Don Davis Park, and walked into Newport for a late afternoon craft beer break.
In hindsight, this detour was a bit more than I’d planned to bite off. The paved streets above Don Davis park were like a roller coaster that climbed 200 vertical feet in just over a quarter mile. I’d bypassed the Yaquina Head lighthouse earlier this afternoon because I was too tired to hike uphill. But here I was doing the same blasted thing to get a beer?!?
When I eventually arrived on 10th Street, the brewery was busy with a robust happy hour crowd, but they still had plenty of seating outside with views of the bridge. I ordered myself a beer flight and settled in for a goo rest. I had plenty of time to get to camp yet. And I needed to hydrate after my arduous uphill hike, right??
All of the beers were pretty good. But in the end, I decided their signature beer – the Dungeness IPA – was my favorite of the four tasters.
As I sat drinking my beers and watching the harbor below, the fog was rolling in again. But this time it seemed like it was here to stay. One moment the bridge was a picturesque backdrop against a blue sky, and the next, it was completely shrouded in fog and invisible. It was like San Francisco.
SOUTH BEACH
With my flight of beer now long gone, it was time to hike the final 3.5 miles to South Beach State Park. But, first I’d need to cross the Yaquina River on the invisible Newport Bay Bridge.
It was a bit surreal to be walking across the three-quarters of a mile long bridge while unable to see anything that was below me. Normally, you could see for miles from this vantage point, but all I encountered this afternoon was a white void.
Once on the other side, I knew the route by memory. It didn’t matter than I was fogged in. I’d stayed at this state park so many times I could find my way to the campground blindfolded.
And since there wasn’t much to see along the water’s edge, I opted to hike the sandy trails inside the park’s grasslands and forests instead walking the beach like most OCT hikers might do. To me, those familiar trails felt like coming home.
I only hiked 18.5 miles today, and I was trying this new thing called restraint. I was going to keep my mileage at or below 20 miles to let my feet continue to heal and line myself up with the upcoming hiker-biker camps at South Beach, Beachside, and Washburn, Umpqua Lighthouse, and Bullard Beach State Parks.
When I arrived at the front of the park and paid my $8 camping fee, the ranger assigned me a spot near four other “hikers” in the hiker-biker camp.
I put the word hiker in quotes, because the people there were most definitely not out hiking the OCT or any other long-distance trail. They had more gear with them than most car campers bring along on a week-long vacation. They had three giant 4-person Coleman tents, collapsible camp chairs, two ice chests, and more!
They must have realized far too late that South Beach State Park was booked solid all summer long. You need to book a campsite online at least 6-9 months out to stay at this popular park during the summer months. And that was before this week’s record-setting 110-degree temperatures descended on the state, urging people without air-conditioning to head to the mountains or the beach.
The hiker-biker camp doesn’t require reservations though, because most people actually hiking or biking the coast have little advance notice of what day they might arrive there. So these crafty folks must have parked their car somewhere else and just walked into the park to avail themselves some of the inexpensive campsites available on a first come, first serve basis.
I probably shouldn’t have been bothered by this ruse. There were more than enough spots here. It was just me, three cyclists, and these four jokers. There were still a few unclaimed campsites in the hiker-biker camp. So why I should I be upset that they were cheating the system and pretending to be hikers?
Yet it stuck in my craw.
What if they were rowdy and completely trashed the place, giving “real” hikers a bad name? What if other non-hikers were pulling this same stunt further south at some of the hiker-biker camps that weren’t this large? Would their presence impact my ability to stay there?
I took a deep breath and decided to let it go. This was the park rangers’ problem. They are the ones who let them in. So, I ignored the fake hikers and made my way over to the other side of the camp, where I struck up a conversation with the “real” touring cyclists.
One of them was a Turkish grad student at Oregon State University who just rode the 66-mile Corvallis to Coast Route today and will be heading back tomorrow. Meanwhile, the other two cyclists were a pari of friends named Will and Tom who were riding from Seattle, WA to Santa Cruz, CA. Talk about an adventure!!
The four of us swapped stories about our various adventures over the next hour as the sun slowly disappeared. The mosquitos were eating me alive, so I bid them all goodnight before making my way back to my tent. It was time to hit the hay. But first, I was going to double check I’d locked my locker.
This hiker-biker camp had lockers with USB charging spots inside them (just like at Nehalem State Park). And right before I went over to talk to the cyclists, I’d put my food bag and phone inside one of the lockers so I could charge it up my battery.
I trusted the cyclists to leave my stuff alone. But the nearby “hikers” were playing by their own rules, and I was having none of it! So it’s a good thing I’d added a small luggage lock to my packing list during my recent trip home. I wasn’t leaving any valuables inside the locker overnight unless they were well-secured.
Highlights
- Taking a short stop at the viewing platform over Whale Cove. I might not have spied any whales, but it sure was beautiful.
- Although my feet weren’t excited about a 5-mile road walk today, the Otter Crest Loop was actually quite lovely and the views of the ocean were phenomenal.
- Enjoying my beer at Newport Brewing Co. and setting up camp in South Beach State Park. I love coming back to Newport. It just feels awesome!
Challenges
- Forgetting about the importance of the tides when I got to Schooner Point. If I’d gone through the keyhole opening in the rocks before stopping for lunch, I might not have needed to unnecessarily detour up on to the highway.
- The tons of beachgoers to dodge at some of the more popular beaches – like Beverly Beach, Devil’s Punchbowl, and Nye Beach. It feels like the insane heat wave bearing down on the Pacific Northwest seemed to push the entire population of Oregon out to the Coast!
- The fog obscuring Yaquina Bay. Walking over the bridge in a dense cloud was interesting and eerie in its own way, but I missed being able to see the beautiful bay views from up high.