Monday June 29, 2021
- Starting Point: Beachside State Park / Wakonda Beach
- End Point: Washburn State Park
- Daily Miles: 20.3 miles
- Cumulative OCT miles: 197.2 miles
I’d bundled up in my quilt after watching last night’s stunning sunset and was just starting to drift off when a white flashlight washed over my tent. Then then heard footsteps and someone rolling a bike on the grass barely a foot away from me.
As I peeked out the rainfly, I could see it was another cyclist arriving at the hiker-biker camp and looking for a spot to set up. It was pitch black outside, and it seemed awfully late to be out riding on Highway 101. I suspect something hadn’t gone exactly according to plan for this poor guy.
After that brief interruption, I slept soundly for the second night in a row, and I was back up with the sun at 6:30 this morning looking around the area. There were three tents total in camp now – my tent, Caroline and Tyler’s two-person tent, and a solo tent for the mystery cyclist who come in late last night.
Caroline was up too and making herself some coffee, so we ate breakfast together before I had to packed up to hit the beach again. She and Tyler had ridden their bikes as far south as they’d planned to go, so now they were heading back north toward Portland.
I wished them luck and told them to be safe out on Highway 101 during their ride home. Hopefully, they beat the heat.
As I returned to the beach around 7:20 am, I was shocked at how strong the wind was blowing. The hiker-biker camp was sheltered in a copse of trees, so I’d had no clue it was this windy out on the sand. It was a cold headwind from the south too, which stunk for today’s journey.
I pulled the hood of my sun shirt up over my ears to keep them warm and I donned my sunglasses to keep the sand out of my eyes. Then I put my head down and began walking.
I was about 15 minutes down the beach when I began to have a nagging feeling. I felt like I was missing something. I did a mental inventory of my gear, and then started patting each of my side pouches on my pack.
I had my water bottle… I had my tent and tent poles.… I had my sandals..
And then my hand reached the bottom of my pack where my sit pad is usually fastened with some shock cord, and I just felt empty space. Dammit! I didn’t have my sit pad. I must have left it back at the hiker-biker camp when I was packing up.
I waffled for a few seconds about whether to go back to the campground or just keep walking, but it wasn’t really that hard of a decision. I knew I’d miss it my sit pad on the rest of this hike. Sitting in the wet sand stinks. My foam pad was the one thing that made it tolerable. I’d have to turn back and retrieve it.
On the positive side, at least I had a tailwind the entire way back to camp. When I arrived, Tyler was up too and sitting at one of the picnic benches beside Caroline. I waved at the two of them before walking over to my own picnic table. The sit pad was under one of the benches. I must have accidentally kicked it under there when I was packing up.
With my foam sit pad, the balance in the universe was restored. I firmly reattached it to the outside of my pack, and set off toward the beach and into the fierce wind again.
YACHATS
During the next 4.5 miles down Wakonda and Tillicum beaches, I got my shoes and socks wets several times while fording all the little creeks that dumped into the ocean.
I just couldn’t motivate myself to take my footwear off to get across the shallow water, only to have to deal with the wind blowing sand in my face as I tried to my feet dry and shoes back on again.
It just seemed so much easier to walk directly across these wide outlets and deal with cold, wet socks. However, I also I knew it would mean I’d eventually need to take an extended break somewhere sunny this afternoon so my feet (and socks) could attempt to dry out.
At the end of Tillicum Beach, dark basalt rocks jutted into the ocean and protruding upward 6-10 feet from the sand. That was my cue to head up to higher ground toward the town of Yachats.
Above the beach, a well-marked local trail named ‘The 804 Trail’ coincided with the OCT as its wound along the cliffs toward the geometric-shaped Adobe Resort.
And off to my right, signs warned visitors not to turn their back on the ocean, especially while standing on the rocks that were now completely exposed at high tide.
A memorial stood near the edge of the rocks commemorating the lives of two teens from my hometown of Eugene who drowned when a nearly waist-high sneaker wave swept them off a rock bridge and into a narrow spasm.
Even though the young men had four friends with them, it was impossible for them to climb out of the churning water, and equally impossible for their friends to reach them and bring them to safety.
From this sobering spot, the OCT left the coast and worked its way toward the strip of a seaside town named Yachats that lines the the mile of sidewalk on either side of Highway 101.
I’m almost certain Yachats holds the record for the most mispronounced name in all of Oregon. I’ve heard visitors call it Yak-hats, Yea-chats, Yachts, and about a dozen different variations of wrong.
For the record, the town Yachats is pronounced like yah-hots. The first syllable rhymes with ‘ma’ or ‘pa.’ The second syllable is sounds like a the word ‘hot’ with an ’s’ at the end of it. Together the syllables form an indigenous Siletz word that means “dark waters at the edge of the sea.”
But right now there were no weekend tourists out to the streets struggling to pronounce the funny name. It was early on a Monday morning and everything were pretty much closed up. The only things open at this time of the morning was a small cafe at the northern end of town called the Blue Whale and a drive-up coffee stand in the middle of Yachats.
Once I crossed the bridge over the Yachats River and walked through the fancy homes flanking a beachfront park, it was time to head inland. From here, the OCT would follow the Amanda Trail.
AMANDA TRAIL
I was looking forward to this section of trail for a while now. I knew the story about Amanda de Cuys, and this piece of the OCT serves as a reminder of how the government treated the indigenous people on the Oregon Coast.
Lewis and Clark encountered the Chinook people near the Columbia River in 1805. But farther down the coastline, the Tillamook, Siletz, Alsea, Siuslaw, Coos, Coquille, Umpqua, Chetco, Tolowa, and Tututni people made the Oregon Territory their home. These names still resonate in our state’s geography, as many of the major rivers on the Oregon Coast still bear their history.
In 1855, the leaders of the southern and central coastal tribes signed a treaty with representative from the U.S. Government, ceding their lands to the United States in exchange for a reservation where they could peacefully exist away from the flood of settlers who’d arrived via the Oregon Trail during the prior decade.
An Executive Order signed by President Franklin Pierce created this Indian reservation from Cape Lookout down to the Siltcoos River. Of course, the land held little value to the new Anglo settlers. It was sandy and rugged. Crops didn’t grow well, and there was little game to hunt.
However, the treaty with the Oregon tribes was never ratified by Congress. There was no legal binding agreement between the United States and the Coastal Nations. Yet, that didn’t stop local government officials from forcibly marching indigenous people to the new Coast Reservation in the 1860s, then ceding half of their promised land to new Anglo settlers in 1865 and 1872.
Because a formal treaty didn’t actually exist, Congress also never appropriated any funding for the tribes held there. Money wasn’t provided for food nor the weapons they needed to hunt. So it was fairly common for the indigenous people to flee the reservation to avoid starvation, exposure, disease, or abuse.
In 1864, the government agents from the Alsea Indian Sub-Agency were sent down the coast by their superiors with the assistance of the military. They mission was to arrest the escaped indigenous people who were “infesting the [Anglo] Settlement of Coos Bay.”
One of the Army corporals assigned to this duty kept a detailed journey of the mission, which is how we now know the saga of Amanda De-Cuys, a blind, indigenous Coos woman.
Amanda and her 8 year old daughter, Julia, were discovered living peacefully on the De-Cuys ranch near Coos Bay. The settler, Mr. De-Cuys, had the option to marry Amanda thereby saving her from internment. However, he refused. Instead he promised to educate the girl (who was left behind) and Amanda was forcibly separated from her daughter and marched to the reservation.
During their miserable 10-day journey back north, the one of the Indian agents proposed simply abandoning Amanda and the infirm older women they’d arrested. He wanted to leave them to die because they were slowing the group down. The only reason this didn’t happen was because the Army officer responsible for escorting and protecting the Indian Agent threatened to report him.
The soldier’s journal recounts the hard journey north to Yachats, which the indigenous women and children had to make barefoot across the sharp volcanic pumice rocks. Specifically he noted Amanda’s feet were so damaged on the rocks that she left a trail of bloody footprints in her wake.
The trail between Yachats and Cape Perpetua is now known as the Amanda Trail, and includes historical markers and even includes a shrine in Amanda’s honor.
Sadly, there were also signs posted to tree trunks along the trail warning visitors the area was under video surveillance. Apparently, the small statue commemorating Amanda’s journey has been vandalized, and even stolen, in the past. Now the statue contains a GPS tracking device to alert authorities of its location if the statue is moved.
Seriously people?!? This is why we can’t have nice things.
CAPE PERPETUA
After the thought-provoking memorial at Amanda’s Grotto, the trail following the steep folds of a ravine, then continued climbing to the top of Cape Perpetua.
I wasn’t making a lot of southernly progress as the dirt path dipped inland and then back out again, but I was grateful for two things the forest provided. First, I was away from the strong headwind on the beach. And second, I got a break from the constant sun that seems to have contributed to a sunburn on my cheeks, nose, and neck.
The wind and the sun can be brutal out here on the Central Oregon Coast!
Once I made it to the summit of Cape Perpetua, the gusts of wind nearly blew me over, and I had to lean into it. I was 1,000 feet above the ocean now, with sweeping views from the edge of the cape.
A handful of cars were parked atop Cape Perpetua, with vast the majority of visitors driving up – not hiking like me. From this vantage point on the cliffs, I could see the tiny ribbon of Highway 101 curving around the base of the next headland and the rocky coastline down below.
On the backside of the cape, the trail switch-backed as it descended toward the Cape Perpetua Visitor center, which was closed due to the pandemic — just like nearly everything else I’ve tried to visit.
With all these closures, you’d think it was still spring 2020, not the summer of 2021. But, I guess it’s better to be prudent than flippant when it comes to public health. Taking the pandemic seriously is probably why Oregon ranks 47th in per capita in Covid infections and deaths, with only Vermont, Maine, and Hawaii currently doing better.
I stopped at the visitor center to eat lunch and dry my wet socks while sitting of the many outside benches. Nearby, the jawbones of a blue whale covered nearly the entire side of the building. It was impressive how utterly giant these beasts must be.
After a nice long rest, it was time put my mostly dry socks back on and find my way back into the lovely spruce forest. As the tree-line trail above Highway 101 continued south, I could make out Captain Cook Point off to my right. This was another one of the popular sightseeing stops for tourists as the drive down the coast.
Cook’s Chasm, a 20-foot deep gorge in the rocks, had waves crashing into it and spraying salty water dozens of feet into the air. And farther out on the basalt rocks, was a flat spot with a giant hole perched above the ocean.
This unique feature, called Thor’s Well, had water erupting up through it with each big wave. The tiny silhouettes of tourists stood dangerously close to the hole on the wet rock, seemingly without a care in the world. They were proving, once again, their selfies were more important than a healthy respect for the ocean’s power.
And then, I finally descended back down to sea level again near Neptune Beach. I had a bit of roadwalking ahead of me this afternoon, but first I wanted to check out Cummins Creek and get some more water. And that’s where I discovered a quaint fish ladder tucked out of sight! What a nice surprise.
MORE ROADWALKING
By the time I reached Neptune Beach, I had 12 miles under my belt for the day. However, the next 7 miles of the day would be boring roadwalking once again. The OCT would have to remain above the ocean, following the outline of the steep headlands and hidden coves, for the foreseeable future.
As I walked along Highway 101, the 20+ mph headwind was still roaring. The rush of the wind was so loud that I couldn’t even put in my headphones to distract myself. I’d have to amuse myself some other way instead.
The rocky coastal scenery over the next two hours was the only thing to keep me entertained as I walked from wayside to wayside – from Neptune Wayside to Strawberry Hill Wayside to Bob Creek Wayside to Stonefield Beach.
It was probably a good thing I wasn’t distracted by an audiobook or podcast though, because I’d decided to deliberately walk with the flow traffic on the highway instead of against it.
As I mentioned before, I was slowly coming to believe this was a better option than the way I’d alway been taught to walk on a road as a pedestrian (i.e. against traffic). Walking with the flow of traffic while heading southbound made more sense here for so many reasons.
- The road shoulder going south was significantly wider to accommodate the cyclists riding the Oregon Coast Bike Route. Consequently, it usually had more room to avoid the vehicle traffic going 50-60 mph.
- The views of the ocean were all off to my right side, so walking on the southbound side of the road let me stop and take as many photos as I wanted without repeatedly having to cross two lanes of traffic.
- And, although it didn’t matter as much today, walking on the southbound side of the road usually provided much better shade in the afternoon as the sun got lower in the sky to my west.
WASHBURNE STATE PARK
Ahead of me, I could see a round hill – aptly named Rocky Knoll – dominating the horizon. It was a lush emerald green and this part of the coastline made me think of the UK.
This part of the Oregon Coast was exactly how I picture Wales or Ireland would look (neither of which I’ve actually visited, mind you, but this is what I imagine they have to look like, right?).
Once I got to the far side of Rocky Knoll, the OCT returned to the beach for the final two miles of the day. I was increasing my mileage today to a full 20 miles with the goal of staying the hiker-biker camp at Washburn State Park tonight instead of trying to set up my tent on the beach in this wicked wind.
Equally important, Washburn State Park was just a few miles north of Heceta Head.
I’ve been fretting about the tunnel near Heceta Head ever since I began planing this thru-hike. It’s be weighing on my mind because there is no sidewalk or shoulder to walk on inside it. Consequently, OCT hikers either have to: (1) get a ride though the tunnel from a willing driver; or (2) walk through the narrow two-lane tunnel in one of the lanes of traffic.
So my plan was to camp at Washburn tonight, and get up early tomorrow so I arrive at the entrance of this scary tunnel before the summer traffic got busy. I wanted to keep all my options open, just in case I had to walk (or jog) through it.
As I walked from the beach inland to the state park, I passed a sign posted to one of the trees. It was warning campers of a bear sighting earlier this month! Well, that was something I didn’t expect to see.
While paying for my campsite at the ranger station, I contemplated asking the ranger about the unusual sign, but I figured she would have surely warned me if bears were a regular nuisance here.
Washburn State Park’s hiker-biker camp was set up in a much larger area than the one I stayed at last night, but the amenities were just about as meager. There weren’t any fancy lockers with USB ports in them to charge my phone. It was just a few picnic tables and single metal bear box where I could store my food overnight.
As I was setting up my tent, two cyclists named Nina and Jake rode in. They would be my only companions at the hiker-biker camp tonight.
Nina was originally from England (and had the accent to prove it), but she lived in Seattle now and taught at the University of Washington. Jake, meanwhile, was originally from Vermont and relocated to Seattle where he’d met Nina.
The two of them were using part of their summer break to enjoy a bike tour down the Pacific Coast from the Columbia River to San Francisco.
We spent the next hour or so talking and, once again, I was reveling in the enjoyable company from all the cyclists that I keep meeting at these campgrounds. It’s a shame I won’t get to meet any more cyclists tomorrow. The next hiker-biker camp isn’t until Umpqua Lighthouse State Park, about 45 miles south of here.
The Oregon Coast Bike Route (OCBR) diverges from the OCT just south of Heceta Head. I’ll remain mostly out of the beach, while all the cyclists detour a few miles inland on the highway. And separating us will be the enormous sand dunes of the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area.
Highlights
- Hiking on the Amanda Trail and learning more about the state’s relationships with the indigenous tribes in the region. I’m glad the locals took the time to capture this important aspect of our history.
- Enjoying the stretch of the coastline near Rocky Knoll. Even though I dreaded another long roadwalk, the epic views there made me feel like I was walking somewhere in the UK.
- Meeting another duo of super cool cyclists at a hiker-biker camp. This has been the third straight night in a row that I’ve had awesome camp companions to hang out with!
Challenges
- Forgetting my sit pad at the campground this morning, and then not realizing it until I was over 1/2 mile away. Retracing my steps was not a good way to start the day.
- The constant headwind the entire day. Thank goodness the OCT detoured into the forest for several miles, because my sunburned and chapped face really needed a break from the intense conditions today.