Siltcoos River and Taylor Dunes – January 22, 2022

Hike coordinator: Lane Harris

Narration by Lane Harris

Last summer, I explored the Siltcoos River along the Waxmyrtle Trail. While trudging through nearly a mile of deep, soft sand where every step felt like 10, I thought to myself, hey, I bet this would make a great club hike! Actually, the Waxmyrtle trail which meanders along the river is quite pretty. And tying a beach walk into the whole thing appealed to the side of my brain which likes to create hikes that the club will thank me for later. Or hate me for, depending on how much they like hiking in deep, soft sand. And they thought my trail puns were bad!

There was a chill in the air when the 15 of us arrived at the Stagecoach trailhead south of Florence near the Siltcoos River. With clear skies above us, we began our hike with a casual stroll on the Lagoon Trail which circles Lagoon campground along the shores of Siltcoos Lagoon. I don’t know for certain, but I’m pretty sure not a lot of thought went into naming the aforementioned lagoon-themed places. At any rate, it was just a short warmup to get the blood flowing in preparation for the rest of the hike.

After the lagoon loop, a short walk across the bridge led us to the beginning of the Waxmyrtle Trail which starts near, you guessed it, the Waxmyrtle campground. The trail runs along the riverbank for a short distance before a steep set of stairs leads hikers to several birds eye views of the river from above. After a short distance, the trail takes an abrupt turn away from the river and spits hikers out onto a sand-filled access road heading towards the beach.

This is the part of the trail that last summer gave me the cruel inspiration to create this hike, as this was the “deep soft sand” portion of the hike. However, much to my surprise, nature’s elements had created just the right amount of rain to sand ratio to form a rather pleasant solid surface for boots to tread upon. No one else, with the exception of my wife who braved the initial sand trials with me last summer, would appreciate the ease at which they propelled themselves along this portion of the trail. At least the fear of an angry crowd hating me for making them struggle through deep sand had abated. But there was still that bad pun thing hanging out there…

Upon arriving at the beach, we gathered up and headed south. With the sun glinting off the beach and a light breeze in the air, it was difficult to accept that it was January on the Oregon coast. However, I have experienced so many pleasant January days on the coast that I’m convinced that, in regards to the weather, it is probably one of the best times of the year to visit. Just keep an eye on the forecast and schedule accordingly!

A mile walk down the beach and we had arrived at our next leg of the journey, the Carter Dunes Trail, which would take us inland. One stretch of the trail was like walking through a tunnel, with trees encroaching overhead, giving it a somewhat creepy but cool appearance. Again, the trail was quite comfortable to walk on and nary a grumble was heard. That was, until we had to climb several short dunes. Here, there were no trees to shade the sun’s rays from drying out the sand, and the soft sinking feeling under hiking boots did not go unnoticed. Thankfully, the hills were short-lived and yours truly was spared from an unceremonious burial under the dunes. Ok, so it must be time for a bad trail pun…

Inspired by all the sand surrounding us, I found myself blurting out a pun only my hiking buddy Richard would appreciate: What do you call a naked woman lying on the beach? Sandy! As the visions of head-shaking and the sounds of loud groans reverberated through my head, thoughts of that unceremonious sand burial quickly surfaced. I do believe that was my first and last pun of the day.

By this time, most hikers had shed their heavy jackets due to the warming air and the fact that we had just completed the ‘hard’ part of the hike, which was really not that bad. The trail dropped us out into Carter Lake campground, which was closed for the winter. We walked on pavement towards the trailhead near Hwy 101 and proceeded onto the Taylor Dunes Trail. This trail makes a loop around a coastal forest and eventually loops back to the Carter Dunes Trail. We were now on a reverse course back towards the beach where it was decided we would break for lunch.

All hikers dutifully found a log to sit upon, as is the proper protocol when one prepares to dine on the beach. Conversations ensued about how nice the weather was, how peaceful the ocean looked, and how the sounds of the waves breaking upon the shore can put most of us to sleep. The scene was tranquil and relaxing, and if it wasn’t for the fact that we had to eventually get back to our vehicles, I believe many of us would’ve just laid there on the beach for hours until the high tide came and swept us out to sea. Alas, we packed up and made our way north along the shoreline.

In typical fashion, John walked barefoot in the shallows along the ocean’s edge as we slowly made our way up the beach, each of us kind of lost in our own dreamy state of a coastal trance. The old adage of “I love long walks on the beach” truly holds up on days like these.

With the beach walk behind us, everyone headed back inland on the Waxmyrtle Trail, arriving at our vehicles in the midafternoon sun, completing this 7-mile club-worthy hike. Breathing a sigh of relief, I was grateful that bad puns hadn’t ruined the hike. And, that I wasn’t buried unceremoniously in the sand.

More pictures on Lane Harris’ Flickr page

Pictures below by Lane Harris

Oregon Coast Trail – January 8, 2022

Hike coordinator: Richard O’Neill

Narration by Richard O’Neill

Last year, in my never-ending quest to find a trail I’ve never hiked on, I wound up on a section of the Oregon Coast Trail that ran from Humbug Mountain State Park to a rather nondescript trailhead between the park’s campground and the nearby town of Port Orford. Part of the route was comprised of a decommissioned segment of the old Highway 101. As happens when I find a new trail, a club hike is sure to follow and so it came to be that 14 hikers followed me (even though I was hiking at my usual place in rear of the hiking queue) onto the trail.

The area had been pummeled by high winds the week prior to this day so I fully expected to find an entire forest of dead trees covering the trail. But my fears turned out to be groundless because the forest was still standing. The only sign of the past winds were small branches, leaves, and conifer needles strewn about the trail. The first half of the hike was through a woods comprised of myrtle and as always with these trees, the laurel-like scent from the leaves was intoxicating, particularly as the air underneath the trees was imbued with that very scent.

The trail followed Brush Creek for a bit before charging up and over a wooded ridge. Just about when the complaining about the grade was to start, the trail headed downhill, and all was harmonious between hikers and hike leader.

The second half of the hike was on the historic highway, and we traded dirt path for old pavement. The grade was uphill but mildly so and mottled sunlight reached us hiking on the pavement. There were a number of seasonal creeks and runoffs flowing across (underneath, in culverts, actually) the trail. The historic highway segment is 2.8 miles long, but we wouldn’t go that far (except for Brad, who missed the trail to the viewpoint where we ate lunch). At that viewpoint, we enjoyed a magnificent vista consisting of Port Orford Head, Humbug Mountain, a collection of islands known as Redfish Rocks, and the Pacific Ocean shimmering in the afternoon sunlight.

The sun dipped behind Humbug Mountain on the way back and the woods became cold and dimly lit. Twilight comes early in these parts, apparently. But now, 14 other members of our club can say they hiked this section of the Oregon Coast Trail so now I must find another new trail upon which to drag my friends upon.

Read more about this hike on Richard O’Neill’s blog, Richard Hikes

More pictures on Richard O’Neill’s Flickr page and Lane Harris’ Flickr page

Pictures below by Richard O’Neill

North Bank Habitat – January 1, 2022

Hike coordinator: Brad Bishop

Narration by Brad Bishop

Imagine a hiking world, a world where the downhill stretches are making you breath hard. A world where you are praying to mush through muddy cattle tracks. A world where a practical joker running down the trail and yelling STOP! STOP! makes you automatically think someone has had a heart attack or broken a leg. Yes, you have entered the ‘Worst Hike Ever’ zone.

What started as a Christmas replacement hike with a tongue in cheek about being the worst hike ever, turned into an epic journey into the frozen, wild, wilderness of the North Bank Habitat. 

I knew this hike would not be pretty. I figured the total uphill of Power Line Trail to the beginning of the Muddy East Boundary Trail would be enough to keep most ‘Sane’ hikers from starting their New Year off on the wrong foot. (get it?) But imagine to my surprise 14 crazy people wanted to spend the day after New Year’s Eve starting resolutions that may soon be afterthoughts. 

The mood was jovial as we met to head to our destination. The forecast was no precipitation, and a chance of sunshine. As we headed towards our destination most of us were taken aback by the site of a white snow-covered monolith in the distance. Surely our hike was at a much lower altitude and besides the sun was shining on some of the peaks already. As we pulled into the parking lot there was much gusto about hitting the trail.

Starting up the Power Line, everyone was determined to have a great New Year’s Day as the sun was going to be warming us, the trail was icy but welcoming. After about a mile of steady climbing we started to get into some deeper snow, but the cattle had their muddy paths that most of us figured were better than the shallow post holes we were slogging through. Everyone seemed to be up to the challenge ahead as we climbed ever higher.

The views challenged the most picturesque scenes of the Alps, and with the sunshine many hikers were discarding layers as we continued our ascent. We were almost done with the worst part of the hike, or so I thought.

As we got to the junction of Power Line, Soggy Bottom and Blacktail, everyone decided to push upward to the East Boundary Trail. As we were at the ridge, I noticed most hikers were putting layers back on.

As we started our trek to the weather station, I realized we wouldn’t have the help of the beef anymore. As we started out on the East Boundary a deer was spotted as we were resting. It looked at us as if ‘WTF’ are you humans doing here. It bounded off nonchalantly. I hate deer. They make travel through wilderness look like a joyful outing in a park.

At this time, I was concerned as I had heard rumors of a mutiny because of deep snow. I took a poll of the hikers and all said to push on as we have gone too far to head back even though I did hear disparaging remarks about the hike leader.

As we pushed forward, we were post holing to our knees. I tried to rally confidence of our plight by singing ditties, but it just seemed to irritate my companions. Around this time, one of the hikers spotted a bald eagle laughing at us and it seemed to energize some of the downtrodden.

We continued with no other options. Everyone knew there was only one way out. Continue down the snow-covered trail. It was slow going. A few hundred yards to rest and blow your nose and continue on.

Finally, we saw signs of civilization (the parking lot). We all made it, even though a 7.5-mile hike took 5 HOURS.  Some were not in a celebratory mood. We had some award-winning chowder and kitsch, laughed and vented, and chalked it up to “don’t doubt Brad when he says ‘Worst Hike Ever’”.

For the first hike of the year, remember: ‘The Outlaws of the Umpqua’ say, ‘Make the First the Worst’.

More pictures on Richard O’Neill’s Flickr page and Lane Harris’ Flickr page

Pictures below by Richard O’Neill and Lane Harris

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