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| The beautiful Oregon Coast |
Fog hugs the hillsides as we slip away from the small bay town of Charleston to tackle the 12-mile pavement walking section on Seven Devils Road. Determining that an early start will get us close to our destination before cars awaken and roar around the curves, we hit the road at 5:30 a.m. The Seven Devils reveal themselves one by one on a tree-lined, hilly road that climbs and descends, climbs and descends as we curve our way through the forest en route to the coast. Occasionally, we stop to feed Shug roadside blackberries and thimble berries and snatch a few for ourselves. The road miles evaporate under our feet and just as the sun burns through the gloom, we reach the large parking area and grassy bluff of Seven Devils State Recreation Area.
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| Lynn, Annette and Shug admiring the blackberries |
Below the bluff, on Merchants Beach, a few beachcombers searching for shells and agates wander near a small, flowing creek. A short distance up the beach, we set up our camp at at the base of the cliffs, close enough to the creek to make pumping our water an easy chore. A southerly wind provides energy for a group of wind surfers who fly into view, cutting in and out of the waves and then grounding their kites and exiting up the same trail we had descended. From our beach vantage point, we watch a large wedding party assemble above us on the grassy bluff. We can see the bride's veil whipping above and away from her head and see her voluminous skirt billowing around her legs and then up and over her shoulders as a photographer captures what will undoubtedly be dramatic wedding portraits. The wind builds to an audible whistle and the wedding party flees to their cars. We duck into our tents as fat raindrops start to fly.
No backpacker likes to wake to the paired sounds of wind and rain. Our heads pop out of our rainflys to assess the situation and we quickly move into "Oh, well" mode. Pulling on rain gear, we cram some Bel Vita biscuits into our mouths and start breaking camp. Our tents are a sodden, sandy mess and the whipping wind defeats all efforts to fold them so we wad them up and stuff them into their sacks instead. We velcro Shug into her raincoat, pull our rain ponchos over our packs, and hike down the beach straight into hellbent wind. Moving our bodies forward feels like trudging through deep snow on a steep hill. Even the usually firm wet sand along this stretch mushes beneath our feet, creating a sinking, bog-like suck new to our beach walking experience. To keep herself warm, Shug runs zig-zags from the cliffs to the surf and then races between us as we plow through the wind. We're at sea level, on a flat beach, pumping out some of the toughest miles we've ever hiked. Eight miles that feel like eighteen miles later, with the wind and rain still blasting, we veer left through the dunes to find the hiker/biker camp at Bullards State Park. Our faces frozen and our hands blockish and useless, we step into the enclosure of Bullards day use restroom and take shelter from the storm. And then, in an Oregon coast sleight of hand, the wind goes flat and dies right before our eyes. The last windless mile to camp feels, literally, like a walk in the park. As we cut across the campground, even the rain calls it quits and feeble sunbeams shine on our water-logged heads.
At this stage in our coastal hike, we're discerning about the merits and flaws of campgrounds and Bullards Beach State Park is a beauty. The hiker/biker campsites offer us a comfortable, flat spot tucked into the trees, a big picnic table, bear-proof food lockers, and electrical outlets to recharge our cell phones--not too shabby for $5. In addition to campsite luxury, for us, one of the coolest parts of staying in a state park is meeting amazing people on their own incredible journeys. Our nearest neighbors, two German women who have biked all the way from Los Angeles with their 18-month and 21-month-old toddlers, blow our minds. Behind her bike one mom pulls a double-seater child trailer while the other mom pulls a cargo trailer loaded with all their gear. While we dry out our tents, take hot showers, and sip hot chocolate, these amazing women tirelessly play with their kids, feed their kids, sing with their kids, and demonstrate some of the best parenting skills we've ever seen.
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| Somewhere along the OCT |
After a slow-moving morning around camp, we wish moms and babies safe travels to Vancouver, B.C. before packing up and heading out for nearby Bandon. A short bit on Hwy 101 and another bridge crossing delivers us into Bandon's old downtown area along the wharf. After picking up our general delivery resupply package at the post office, we wander until we find a waterfront restaurant, Bandon's Bait and Tackle, which offers wind-sheltered outdoor tables where we can sit with Shug. We eat fish sandwiches so delicious none of us speaks while we devour them. Then, to chase away any leftover chill from the previous day's hike, we swallow steaming coffees and linger over refills, reliving yesterday's coldest moments from the comfort of their sun-filled patio.
Soon we're back on our feet, soaking in the local dock scene before heading south to a prearranged tent spot at Beach Loop Road RV Park. Maybe we lingered too long. The late morning heats up as we walk along a small side road which overlooks this stretch of sea stack-studded coastline. Shug lags a little and acts like she's getting tired. After a rest and water stop, Shug still looks puny so we stand off to the side of the road to discuss our options. Almost instantaneously, an SUV passes us then whips a U-turn and pulls up next to us. "Your dog looks tired. Can I give you a ride somewhere?" Within 2 minutes, we stow our packs in the back of a shiny Toyota and place Shug between us on the backseat to ride the last mile to the RV park in air-conditioned comfort, courtesy of a dog-loving, nice guy named Eric.
Beach Loop RV Park welcomes us and our little tents and makes sure we find good shade for Shug. We pop the tent up, orienting it so that the ocean breezes flow through, and settle Shug in so she can rest. Although Shug loves running free on the beach mile after mile, the sand makes her paws tender. Shug stretches out in the tent and we massage her feet with the Musher's Secret paw wax that we carry for her. She's glad to be lounging in the shade and gets herself comfortable on our inflatable sleeping pads before falling fast asleep.
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| Shug resting up |
While Shug naps, we lay out our maps and guide book and look at the days ahead. Keeping Shug healthy tops our list of priorities when doing these long hikes. The mileage works out to four more days of beach walking to reach Port Orford and then multiple big mile stretches on Hwy 101. We make a group decision to skip all the road walking after Port Orford and instead, to catch a bus and ride it to Gold Beach. If we can't get Shug on the bus, we'll hitch. We ask the park manager about the next day's beach walk and he tells us the beach is beautiful, but we might get turned back because of the snowy plover habitat restoration work going on.
Early the next morning, keeping a close eye on Shug, we head for the beach access road a half mile down the road. As we approach the parking area, we can see volunteers sitting at an information kiosk with Oregon State Wildlife banners. The volunteers kindly inform us that we will not be able to walk with Shug, even on a leash, because state biologists gathering snowy plover nesting data are working this section of the beach. Since our only alternative would be a long stretch of highway walking we decide to walk the mile to Beach Loop Road's junction with Hwy 101 and try to catch a transit bus from there. Even on this short stretch, we notice Shug lagging, looking like she's not having fun. All three of us realize that the snowy plover restrictions helped us make the best decision for Shug.
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| Kristy hitching a ride |
Standing in the Ray's Market parking lot in Gold Beach, we start calling around trying to find a place where we can pitch our tents. Turtle Rock RV resort two miles away on the south end of town has tent spots available so we put our packs on and head their direction. We check in at camper services then set up camp in a grassy site in the shade of a small stand of trees and put Shug to bed for the day. In the morning, although Shug looks better, she's still not her goofy Shug self and she still wants to sleep. We add another night to our two night reservation and decide to just hang out until Shug acts really rested. Taking short walks around the campground, hunting for Oregon jade down on the beach, and exploring the nearby town of Gold Beach make for mellow days where we simply enjoy the coolness and beauty of the Oregon coast.
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| Shug trying to train Lynn to share at Turtle Rock CG |
Between the town of Gold Beach and the town of Brookings most of the OCT is road walking. One of our Turtle Rock campground neighbors, Denise, offers to give us a ride to Harris Beach State Park just north of the town of Brookings. When strangers connect with us and become part of our journey, a thread of their life weaves into the fabric of our story and our lives become richer. The following morning, we load our gear and a well-rested Shug into her Honda Pilot. After sharing breakfast together at Mattie's Pancakes, and resupplying at Fred Meyers, Denise drops us off at the hiker/biker camp at Harris Beach State Park.
As we set up our tents, the realization that this is our last campsite of the trip hits us. We decide to spend a few days exploring Brookings and the local beaches instead of hurrying ourselves along. The first day, we walk through downtown Brookings to the port to watch the Southern Oregon Kite Festival events where professional kite flyers perform elaborate kite routines set to music. For one of just a few times since we began the trip, the day feels genuinely hot. Kites dance across a blue, almost cloudless sky above a grassy, green field crowded with observers. Feeling inspired by the festival, we buy a couple of small, brightly-colored kites to take back to Harris Beach to create our own kite event. Although sea stacks cluster along the coastline at Harris Beach, the sand stretches wide enough for kite flying. The consistent, yet gentle ocean breeze proves to be fool-proof even for cheap kites in the hands of amateurs and we add our own bits of color to the sky.
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| Kristy flying kite at Harris Beach |
During the next couple of days at Harris Beach, we explore the trails near the campground and wander the rocky beaches. We admire our last sunset and zip ourselves into our tents one more time. Early in the morning, we pack up our camp in a foggy drizzle and begin our final day's walk. Ducking into Downtown Coffee Lounge, we sit at a table in the entryway and unroll Shug's pad at our feet. At this family run cafe in Brookings, our favorite morning stop over the past few days, we sip coffee and enjoy bacon and eggs, toast, and hash browns. One of the owners, Rose, fixes a serving of bacon for Shug in a little to-go dish, wishes us well, and assures us that Crissey Field, the official end point of the Oregon Coast Trail, is not that far away.
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| Harris Beach |
Walking and talking as we follow Ocean View Drive which passes through small neighborhoods before leading us through miles of fields of Easter lilies, we reminisce about all this OCT hike has given us. We talk about visible beauty like sandy beaches guarded by huge, black sea stacks and of rugged capes where the trail wanders among giant trees. And we talk about the sensory beauty of breathing salty, ocean air and of listening to bird song throughout the day and frog song throughout the night. The energy of each person we encountered, the boat rides, the campgrounds, the bowls of clam chowder, the ten o'clock sunsets, and the fog-soaked mornings coalesce into a bright light in our mind's eye as we climb the stairs into the visitor center at Crissey Field and cross the finish line of our Oregon Coast Trail adventure.
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| The big finale |
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