Mission complete, a part of it anyway – I make it to the coast.
It’s wonderful to walk towards the beach in my bare feet, cool sand slipping between and around my toes, the big sky above, and the coast stretching as far the fog and haze. I take my shoes off and run towards the Pacific. The waves are not big and break long before the ocean languidly spills into the beach. I run into the shallow water – the kid in me can’t resist. Others are in the water, paddle boating, surfing and water boarding.
My feet go numb, quickly. The water is cold. I now notice that everyone who is in the water is wearing full body wet suits; some people are even wearing head gear to keep warm. The Pacific up here is freezing, even in the summer. I won’t be going for a dip.
Oregon’s entire coast is free for public use, so you can set out for a walk, mind the tides and meander until you hit a cliff’s edge that you can not easily traverse, or hit another natural obstacle. The coast is diverse – I am walking along a very long and wide sandy beach. A short drive to another beach town brings me to a beach that is scattered with rocks. Near Florence, the coast is home to sand dunes.
I take two days to drive from Cannon Beach to Florence, driving mostly along Hwy 101 and Hwy 131, the scenic byway. The highways wind through forests that live along the coast, traverse beach towns, and of course, the best part, some of the highway is laid right along the rugged coast, the road spinning along the swervy contours of the mountains that meet the Pacific. My windows are wide open. The air is refreshing, salty. After days of heat, I welcome the wind.
My favourite stop along the coast is Pacific City at around 6 in the morning. Already the beach is lined with cars, their owners in the water catching the waves. The waves aren’t big; they’re the kind of waves perfect for learners who still need to make nice with the ocean and their boards. Along the beach dog walkers and runners exchange waves and hellos. Does the ocean make you want to be active, or do active people settle here?
This morning, the fog is still thick in most places, but as the sun burns through, a postcard-perfect vista is revealed. Pacific City is home to Cape Kiwanda. Look at the photos and imagine standing on the shore as the fog lifts and the sun’s early morning rays colour the surface of the sand and rocks, while the dark clouds continue to stand their ground in the background. It’s magical. A storm is brewing in the background, but for now, the sun is winning the battle, keeping the dark clouds over the ocean.
The sand is not yet burning, so I take off my shoes and make my way up the dunes for a hike. At first, the walk is steep, my feet being buried deep in the sand. My muscles are quickly awake and my heart is pumping, partly because of the strain, partly because of how excited I am about being here, seeing this world awaken.
I get another surprise as I drive through Depoe Bay. I see people lined along the town’s shore – the shore is lined with a sea wall along which you can walk. I park, get out and wonder what people are looking at. The morning turns out to be cloudy and a blistery wind sloshes in from the ocean, yet the people hover around the edge of the sea wall and point towards the sea. Every so often, adults and kids are screeching with excitement. I am trying hard to see anything, but all I see is dark water and the curly wake of the waves.
And then I see it – whales! A bunch of them lazily swimming around, popping their heads out of the water before diving back under. Lots of them.
Depoe Bay is calls itself the ‘whale watching capital of the world.’ A pod of grey whales makes this harbour it’s home.
Camping along the coast is popular and there is no way to get a camping spot in a State Park without booking months in advance, so I camp at a county campground in Sandlake. It turns out the campground is on the shore and connected to a conservation area with a hike. I do the hike twice – once during the early evening and another in the late evening as the sun is setting. The beach is massive and empty. Only my footprints and tracks of little crabs adorn its shores.
Thank you for the tip 🙂