Shug Likes It: A Dog’s Beach Life



Shug guarding our packs for a potty break

Happy 4th of July to all my peeps. Despite a stiff breeze we pitch our tents on the beach just a couple of miles north of where the Umpqua River empties into the Pacific on the central Oregon coast. My plan is to stay here tonight far from any fireworks and cherry bombs and then move the pack a couple more miles south on the beach to a jetty where we can catch a ride on a fishing boat tomorrow. This will be my third boat ride which is a new-fangled way to backpack, but I like it. 

The pack and I have been trying out some other new-fangled backpacking strategies the past few days. On one long hiking day, a nice old guy named Jerry scoops me into the back of his SUV and crams the rest of the pack into the seats with their backpacks on their laps. Burl Ives croons cowboy songs to us the whole way while Jerry tells us about the old days and drives us to a local campground surrounded by mooing cows. Listening to Burl Ives and to mooing cows is new for me on backpacking trips, but I like it.

After relaxing a couple of nights at dairy camp, getting my paws waxed and generally catching up on my napping, our friend Juliet flies in from Colorado Springs, picks us all up in her rental car, and takes us to a dog friendly motel in Pacific Beach. Pacific Beach, AKA doggy bag heaven. Add tasty seafood to the new-fangled backpacking checklist. Fish and chips, clam chowder, grilled rock fish--I sampled it all and I liked it. 

Whale spotting at Depoe Bay

Somehow, someone sitting at a desk far, far away from the outdoors thinks it's okay to route the Oregon Coast Trail on highway 101 and pretend it's a trail. I try hwy 101 with the pack and have to give it the big four paws down. Trucks zooming past as we tread the 14 inch wide shoulder makes it too hard to maintain pack morale and safety. Juliet's rental car leap-frogs us over the road walking sections and drops us in Depoe Bay at a whale watching lookout point. Kristy, Lynn and I hunker down and watch whales spitting water out of the top of their heads and flopping around while Annette and Juliet ditch the car  back in Lincoln City and catch a bus to rejoin the pack. Once reunited, we hustle down to the beach and head south for a 10 mile walk on a deserted beach littered with crab carcasses to Beverly Beach State Park. This automotive intervention approach to backpacking, although unorthodox, reduces stress and eliminates the risk of being flattened by a logging truck. I like it. 

Juliet, Lynn and Annette.... Wander Women

Later in the week, back to our pack of four, we once again need some new tricks. We're hiking a no camping stretch of beach so we cross through the dunes to a US Forest Service campground. As we trudge through the deep sand with our packs even I break a sweat. ATV engines rev and whine around us as we hit the campground road. 4th of July weekend and this place is packed. Dirt bikes, jeeps, ATVs, and dune buggies crowd into tight campsites. "No room," says the campground host. No way can we walk any farther. It's hot and our paws are poached. We fill up on water and I lead the pack down an off-road vehicle path where we skedaddle off into a treed section just out of sight. Our first opportunity to try stealth camping and we're all in. I like it. 

Juliet and Lynn beach river crossing

One of the best things about stealth camping is the pre-dawn escape. The morning air is cool and quiet except for the crash of waves on the nearby beach. I wake the pack at 4 a.m. We break camp and hightail it over to the bathrooms to resupply our water and by 5:00 we're back on the beach heading for Tahkenitch Creek Campground 10 miles away. I'm new to beach walking and find it amazing to traipse across the wet sand for mile after mile and never meet any other packs. These beaches are deserted. A bald eagle perched on a driftwood stump monitors our progress but poses no threat. After about 8 miles we cut through the trees to find our trail and head east on a dirt path. Our dirt trail soon turns to sand and then to deep sand as we climb through the dunes.  I hear moaning and groaning behind me but I bravely shoulder my pack and keep on. Abruptly, the dune trail becomes a forest trail lined with ferns and shaded by huge Sitka pines. I'm too tired to even sniff tree trunks so we continue on and eventually the trail dumps us right into the campground. Good dogs can spot a good person from a mile away. A camp host named Cory, who's Labrador retriever nice, welcomes the pack into her camp. "No room, but no problem," she says. "I can hide you over here in the picnic area." And she does and we love her for it. We drowse on the grass in the sun, look at the light filtering through the green leaves and feel the bliss. I perk up every so often and rouse myself enough to scare away a squirrel or two. Later in the evening, Cory drops by again and brings us turkey sandwiches, cinnamon raisin pastries, and big poofy glazed donuts that she bought for us while she was in town. I give her my double-down wiggle and wag    and she ambles away into the sunset calling back to us, " If your dog gets cold tonight she can come sleep in my trailer." Angelic camp hosts are one of my favorite parts of this new-style backpacking. Cory--I like her.