Oregon II.II - Coast

Overall, I spent almost a week in Oregon. Most days were chilling and helping out around the homestead, but we took one other daytrip out to the coast. My friend is now a ranger for the state parks around Coos Bay, and she wanted to show me her favorite places in the park. It was fantastic.

Our first stop was Simpson Reef -  Dramatic seascape views, huge waves smashing against rocks, and  LITERALLY A THOUSAND SEALS and sealions hanging out. Largely just floating together, but also clambering over the miscellaneous rocks which make up the reef (rocky, not coral) swimming amongst the kelp, fishing, it's a magical place. And often (but not today) they have whales. I knew it would be good, but it rivals any coast I've seen and outclasses most of them. Then again: seals (the cutest animal), cliffs, and dangerous waves are some of my favorite things, so my opinion is biased.

Second on the list was Cape Arago a bit further out the peninsula, but the submarine terrain was a little deeper, so there were only a handful of marine mammals. However, there was also a sketchy trail heading down to the cliffs. So sketchy you were only a step or two from falling 40+ feet to a broken femur and then drowning while it hurt the whole time. After getting permission from my personal park ranger, I headed down the trail and up to the edge... and was immediately hit by vertigo as I looked straight down and watched the surf surge back and forth well beneath my feet. I love this shit. 

Next we hit the Arboretum. Mel said hello to a few coworkers, we admired the various plants on display, and even spotted a miniature snake and a full-sized rabbit. My favorite plant was probably the giant rhubarb. Like most plants in Oregon, I didn't know they got that big. The runner up is this trippy plant that looks like a render, a glimpse of the gorgeous math underpinning life. Behind the arboretum we took a trail down to a protected bay, where we checked tidepools (meh), inspected the kelp for critters, and got our first good view of the geology of the peninsula - the tectonic plates are clearly thrust up at a 45° angle, which is the main reason why the coastline is so striking. To add more volatility, each of the layers are made of different minerals which weather differently, and some layers are a mixture of soft and hard leading to bizarre balls (or hollows) thrusting out of the diagonal layers.

Our next visit - a section of unnamed coast just north of the arboretum - really drove home that point. Breathtaking cliffs thrusting out over the ocean, and thanks to massive winter swell rolling over an abnormally high tide, the waves put on a beautiful show, splashing 30, 40, occasionally 50' high.  Whenever I see a heavy ocean, I automatically plot out a survival route... and here, there isn't one. If you get lucky, swim out and hope to survive long enough for the coastguard to pick you up. But probably, you're stuck in hydraulics, sucked under and grated against the rocks as the coves constantly drain and fill. Unless your a seal, you're dead. And we were worried for the lone seal dumb enough to try it. It's awesome in the truest sense of the word. These cliffs continue into a beautifully weathered section of rock. Curves that would be at home in the canyons of Bryce or Zion, but posed 50' over the Oregon coast. And my ranger looked at me, before I even opened my mouth, and said "Yes, you're allowed to climb these too."

That was all I needed to hear, and I instantly set off clambering out to the edge, to watch waves smash over the island, and then plinko back to the sea as waterfalls criss-crossed around the concretions down the slanting backside of this tectonic splinter. Honestly, I love rocks, I love decoding geology from formations left over, I love heavy swell, I love sketchy bouldering, I love seals, this place is like heaven. Maybe I'll retire early and go be an underpaid ranger just to hang out in such a beautiful and invigorating environ. 

After all the chaos, it was time for something a little more chill, so we headed inland to Sunset Bay Campground. From here we did a 4 mile hike heading out the bog trail. This trail crossed through multiple microclimates and flaunted several types of forest, most of them with a thick moss-and-needle covered loam that is noticeably springy under each step. Plus, we were hunting mushrooms! Mushroom hunting is a super fun game with terrible prizes. It's like eye-spy IRL, and you get to spot and identify various species of bizarre and fascinating alien lifeforms, but all you win is that you can eat some of them and they're gross.   We filled an entire bag with porcini and lobster claws, while also spotting slippery jacks, amanita, several corals, forest chicken, and at least a dozen unidentified species - all of which are either toxic or even grosser than normal. It was a great time though, and much like their rhubarb (and every other plant), their skunk-cabbage is enormous. I had to ask what it was because they averaged two feet tall, about triple the east-coast variety I grew up tromping through.

Our final stop was Sunset Bay.  We started by inspecting the bridge that was Mel's first major project -  directing all the work and doing much of it. To my surprise it was a kit that was entirely fiberglass while being sturdy enough to drive vehicles across. We then hiked up to the group campsite to survey her upcoming project - rebuilding racoon proof trashcans - and to get a great view of some especially dramatic upthrust islands just offshore. Again, she read my mind, and told me they were strictly off-limits. They are bird-sanctuaries, so even if I could swim out to them without getting concussed, they are illegal to visit.  However, this didn't stop one family from hiking out to one during low tide a few months ago, climbing it, and getting trapped by the tide. They refused all help for over 6 hours until the tide came down, then slunk down and embarrassedly fled the park.  So what I'm hearing is I could probably get away with it... 

As sunset came we hiked back down to sunset bay itself. The tide was finally down, so we checked the tidepools (a few fish, a few chitins, and a seemingly infinite amount of sea-anemones (the soft ones!), barnacles, and snails. I climbed out the cliff face for a better view - the angled bedrock and dissolved concretions made it a pleasure to climb if not particularly challenging - and the view was about the same. But the journey is the goal, the destination an excuse, as per usual.  Back on the beach, we found the ancient tree-stumps that reach 20' across. The Cascadia Subduction zone formed all this geology and drowned these trees 1200 years ago, producing 9-point megathrust earthquakes (the strongest variety - which caused Fukushima, the Cascades, and the Himalayas) every 300-600 years, the last of which was in 1700.  ["Oh yeah, we're due. Rangers are required to park nose-out at sunset bay in case we get a tsunami warning."] Regardless of impending chaos, multi-level tidepools formed within these roots, water filled cavities bridging over lower gaps. And with the sun setting, it was time to head back to the ranch. We've got miles to go before we eat and bushels to jar before we sleep.

All in all this was fantastic, rivalling the highlights of other trips. If you ever find yourself in Oregon: toss your other plans, skip your work conference, and head out to the coast.