We managed to get out to the Devil's Punch Bowl State Natural Park twice while we were in the area. We stopped off very briefly on our way back from Depoe Bay, but we immediately knew we had to go back and explore the huge and cavernous Punch Bowl.

We arrived on a warm, Spring day and Kim and Ollie headed to the overlook, so they could look out and into the Punch Bowl. There were signs saying there was some kind of dangerous algae in the tide pools that could possibly poison pets who made it down to the beach. We didn't want to risk it. 

Naturally carved out of rock creating a huge craggy bowl that fills through a series of caves and tunnels at high tide with violently churning ocean water, swirling, foaming and frothing, a Devil's brew, the Punch Bowl is a powerful and raging expression of nature. When full, it's scary to see. When empty, the rock pools in the basin appear deceptively calm and forgiving. 

Henry and I set off to the beach to find a way across the tide pools at low tide as we wanted to make it all the way in to the Punch Bowl. The rocks were slippery with bright green, almost moss-like, seaweed and tiny barnacles that had been battered and smoothed over time, but we managed to chart our way forwards. Henry was checking for those pesky sneaker waves the whole time. He always has my back.

Once we made it into the bowl, we could see the beautiful colors inside; the deep reds, browns and greens. It was dark and echoey and the sound of the waves lapping at the entrances was amplified. It would be easy to outstay our welcome and get caught in the incoming tide, to be mercilessly tossed around like playthings in a baby's bath.  

We waved up at Kim and Ollie who were up at the rim of the Bowl, then took our time to explore the geology of the huge cave. We clambered from one rock to another, taking our sweet time to explore the rock pools. It would have made a terrific concert venue as the acoustics were marvelous.

Still nervous about the time and the tides, Henry prompted me to retreat so that we could join Kim and Ollie at the top of the headland. Once we reached them, we took a short walk heading southeast to get a view over Otter Rock and the beaches that stretched out towards Newport.

​Breathtaking.

On the way back from Depoe Bay, we took a back road to Cape Foulweather. I just love that name. It sounds like a Rik Mayall superhero, right?

The towering basalt cliff jutting out into the Pacific Ocean was actually named by Captain James Cook on his third voyage around the world. He discovered it on March 7, 1778. The weather was particularly vile that day with winds of over 100mph, which are not uncommon in the area.

Captain Cook's March 7, 1778 journal reads:-

A northeast facing promontory with a small visitor center at the top called The Lookout, was a perfect place to whale watch. Using their binoculars and looking out of the huge windows at the back of the building, with a view to die for, we finally got to see some gray whales on their migratory journey. Spectacular!

Depoe Bay is advertised as the World's Smallest Harbor so I immediately had to quibble with that title as I have personally seen much smaller harbors, both natural and man-made in Cornwall, England; Mousehole, Port Isaac,  Charlestown for starters.

It was certainly a quaint little fishing town. We hoped Depoe Bay's other title, the Whale Watching Capital of Oregon, would live up to its name. As we drove in to town over the arched concrete bridge we immediately saw the whitewashed, one and half story structure that was home to the Whale Watching Center. Located right on the edge of the ocean, perched on the rocky shoreline, almost like the base of a lighthouse, it had huge windows in the large octagonal observation room and an open air observation deck on the roof,  facing out towards the ocean, allowing visitors to comfortably observe the migratory journeys of passing whales directly from the shore. 

We parked facing the ocean and I immediately made my way to the Whale Watching Center to use the toilet. Henry commented once again that I have the bladder of a hamster.

Staffed with knowledgeable volunteers, complimentary binoculars and loads of information about whales and other marine mammals, I took some time staring out to sea, scanning for whales. None had been seen that morning. A white board with local weather, tide times and updates on what had been recently spotted, was most useful. 

I learned that from the observation deck, a wide variety of whales had previously been spotted, about 1200 individual sighting per year;  humpback, gray, minke, even orcas and blue whales had been spotted along with an assortment of dolphins, porpoises and of course the more common sea lions.

Unfortunately, we did not see any marine mammals that day.

We cheerfully walked through the town and Kim bought his now famous grey beanie. It rarely leaves his head and is reminiscent of the headgear worn by Joe Pesci in the movie Home Alone. If ever we are invited to a fancy dress party, Kim and Henry could definitely go as the two bandits, Harry and Marv from that movie. Haha!  "Keep the change ya filthy animal!"

There was a variety of souvenir shops, galleries and many whale watching tour outlets. The sea looked pretty choppy and we watched one boat take a good half an hour slopping about from side to side, lurching this way and that, seeming to make no progress at all at one point,  as it made it's way under the bridge, through the narrow channel and finally out to sea.

We decided that we would not go out in a boat. Henry is afraid of sharks anyway. Cue the Jaws music!

Just a few pics of downtown Newport.

Most memorable were the barking sea lions putting on a show worthy of La Scala.

Ripley's Believe It Or Not! More of that later.

And the magnificent Yaquina Bay Bridge, a metal green arch bridge spanning Yaquina Bay. It is possibly the most recognizable of the iconic McCullough Bridges on the US101 Highway on the coast of Oregon. 

On our way back from Yaquina Head Lighthouse the day before, we spied a wide expanse of sandy beach. We could even spot a few dog walkers. We decided we would return to give Ollie a good run.

We discovered it was called Agate Beach, an Oregon State Recreation Site. On the drive to the beach, dark clouds quickly rolled in from the Pacific turning the sky black and we thought we would have to abandon our plans for a walk. The wind picked up but the rain held off. By the time we had parked, we virtually had the beach to ourselves. We could see a couple of razor clam diggers in the far distance, out towards the lighthouse, and a couple of dog walkers.

As soon as we got onto the beach over a short little wooden bridge, we let Ollie off the leash and she galloped off, enjoying the sand between her paws and the wind whipping her ears making them dance. All bundled up in woolly hats, fleeces and waterproof coats, we set off to catch up with her.

We spent an exhilarating couple of hours on the beach. I was looking for agates, jaspers and carnelians, but it was just miles and miles of sand and we chose not to walk too close to the shoreline as the waves were crashing in. We didn't want to risk Ollie frolicking in to the waves to the point of it becoming a danger. She was relaxed on the sand, enjoying the off-leash run.

It was chilly to begin with but as the dark clouds rolled away the sun came out to say hello, we warmed up . We walked for miles, almost all the way back into Newport.

Memorable fun day.

Our interest in visiting all the Oregon lighthouses had not wavered, so we set off to explore the Yaquina Head Lighthouse, just north of Newport.

Built in 1873, the tall, stark, black and white lighthouse was originally called the Cape Foulweather Lighthouse, even though Cape Foulweather was at least 4 miles north of Yaquina Head.  At 93 meters tall, it is the tallest lighthouse in all of Oregon. We watched carefully to catch the pattern, 2 seconds on, 2 seconds off, 2 seconds on, 14 seconds off, of the Fresnal lens, casting its light out to sea.

It was a windy day and the waves were crashing on the rocks below the lighthouse. There are daily tours of the lighthouse but we didn't get to go inside as all the tours were fully booked that day. We enjoyed a blustery walk along the lighthouse trail, spotting some seals and sea lions basking on the rocks in the shelter of a hidden cove to the south of the lighthouse. 

We dropped down into a small and sheltered cove, called Cobble Beach.

Cobble Beach Cove lived up to its name. It was made up of smooth, large cobble stones infinity shades of grey  that lay evenly scattered across the beach. Not a speck of sand in sight. Kim parked himself in a  little heat trap with Ollie to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine.

The cobbles were made for turning ankles, so I very carefully made my way to the nearby tide pools that had children and adults bent over in deep crouches, fingers draping into the pools, small excited outbursts declaring finds of jewel-toned treasures in the clear waters. Henry was watching me and the tide like a hawk, making sure I was safe and not about to be carried out to sea by a rogue sneaker wave, which nearly happened on our last visit to the Oregon Coast. He was genuinely concerned.

​We spent a happy couple of hours relaxing, napping and dabbling about in the tide pools.  We found glossy deep red/purple anemones, some in full flower, some curled tight inside themselves looking like large juicy wine gums. Aggregating anemones looked like delicate pink dahlias waving in the water. We saw snails, ringed limpets, periwinkles, trumpeting tube worms, hermit crabs startled in to walking sideways, striped crabs and flat bodied crabs, shiny mussels glinting blues and silvers, gooseneck barnacles, sea cucumbers, sea slugs and horned nudibranchs.  

I had two absolute favorites. The first was the huge Ochre Starfish. It was enormous! It was a rich shade of dark ochre with lots of knobbles along its fat arms. One of them almost filled a tide pool by itself. Clinging comically to the rocks with arms akimbo, I couldn't help but name him Patrick. My second favorite was the striking Giant Green  Anemone. It too was gigantic in terms of tide pool proportions. A bright, almost luminescent lime green color, you could spot them from quite far away. When fully opened, they were massive, their tentacles waving hopefully in search of algae and micro plankton.

As we were beginning to lose some heat from the sun, after having taken a gazillion photos, we headed back up the steps, out of Cobble Beach Cove and back to the truck. 

Bye-bye Sisters, hello Oregon Coast!

The journey from Sisters, over the Cascade Mountains, in Central Oregon, on a gorgeous April morning, turned out to be bright and beautiful. It was a glorious day!

We had not fully anticipated how treacherous the winding curves, steep descents and scary drop-offs that we would have to navigate after we summited the Santiam Pass could have been. We were just so focused on getting over the Pass. Fortunately the roads were very clear and once we descended the mountains, crossed the busy I5 and dropped into Albany then the flats of Corvallis, we were itching to catch our first glimpse of the ocean.

Our next stop was in Newport, Oregon at the Thousand Trails site called Whaler's Rest.

On arrival we requested a full hook up site with the best opportunity for a strong wifi signal, especially for Henry. We were directed up a steep hill and we spent at least 20 minutes trying to back into a very tight site. We ended up shifting over to a neighboring site so we could gain extra leverage to safely manouver the trailer and park her up safely.

As I began setting up the trailer on the inside, Kim began setting everything up the trailer on the outside. He quickly discovered the standing water pipe was leaking, spraying both him and the surrounding area with water. It quickly became waterlogged and exceedingly muddy. We were parked in a bog.

We asked to move sites and found a lovely pull through site on the other side of the road. We quickly settled in. 

The site was within walking distance of the Lost Creek Beach, so I set off after dinner, with Ollie scampering along beside me, to potter through the woods, cross the road and to run wild on the beach. We while enjoy the scorching evening sunset.

The awe-inspiring Oregon coastline continues to surprise.

Today we headed even further north, hitting central Oregon and Cape Perpetua. The cape was given its name by the British explorer, Captain James Cook, who first saw the headland in 1778 and named it after St. Perpetua the patron saint of peace, perfection and motherhood. 

Inland there were dense forests of impossibly tall Ponderosa Pines, Western Hemlocks and mature Douglas Firs. Low lying wizened Sitka Spruce, shaped and gnarled by high winds and salty sea spray, clung to the bluffs on the towering 800 foot headland jutting out into the Pacific.

The Cape Perpetua Scenic Area covers over 2500 acres of coastal habitat. We were particularly interested in checking out the marine reserve made up of reefs, rock pools, chasms, caves, beaches and unusual rock formations.

To begin, we headed toward's the parking lot at The Devil's Churn. There was a great viewing platform to the north of the lot. We had timed it to perfection as the waves were relentlessly rolling into the deep, narrow chasm below, creating a dramatic churning effect in the water. The swelling waves took on the form of a whipped vanilla milkshake, all milky and frothy, as they surged up the channel, crashing chaotically against the sides of the steep rocks in all directions. The chasm probably started out as a narrow fissure in the volcanic basalt bedrock, or perhaps a collapsed lava tube, and then the violent power of the ocean, terrifying and majestic, pounded its way through, creating a crack in the rocks that could lead down to the Devil himself. We could clearly see how The Devil's Churn got its name. 

We then made our way on the trail down to the lower ledges to get a closer look where we could not only see the strength of the battering ocean against the rocks, but taste the salt in the spray, hear the rolling roar of the waves, and feel the curling swirls of air displaced by the churning water. It was dark down there and a little scary being that close to the untamed power of nature.

We continued round the edge of the opening of the chasm where it met the Pacific and suddenly there were calmer waters and huge rock pools to explore. We found large green sea anemones, ochre starfish, urchins and sea slugs. It was astonishing how the raging chasm was adjacent to the peaceful pools.

Kim stayed to watch the churn a little longer and Henry and I continued to play in the pools. Henry was keeping a beady eye on me and any potential sneaker waves after the Ophir Beach fiasco. He was being very careful and very protective. Very sweet.

Eventually Henry headed off to find Kim and we all lost track of each other. We eventually met up by the truck and headed into Yachats, smack dab in the middle of the Cape.

Yachats was a charming gem of a town. The name Yachats, pronounced Yah-hots, comes from the local native Siletz language and means "dark water at the foot of the mountain." Apt! We parked just past the cove, by a huge whale tail sculpture, on the side of the road. 

We took a leisurely walk through town in the sunshine, stopping at the Little Log Church built in the 1920's. It was undergoing some renovations and the museum was closed so we kept walking, mooching around the shops, enjoying all the sculptures of multicolored sea lions on every block corner. There was fantastic rock, crystal and gem store that took a lot longer to explore. Eventually it was time for lunch and we ate at a lovely family owned diner. 

After lunch we spent time at Thor's Well, Cook's Chasm and The Spouting Horn. Back on the rugged, rocky shoreline, the ocean was throwing up huge waves of spray as it hit the rocks and pools. There were many gullies and chasms slicing through the rocks where the ocean boomed into underwater caves. It was a wild and dramatic landscape. Literally breathtaking.

We spotted Thor's Well, a sinkhole-like feature where the ocean surged beneath the rocks and found its way up and out of a bottomless bowl in the rocks. Every surge and spatter of the rhythmic ocean making its way over and under was spectacular. I practiced taking photos on my iPhone using long exposure to create a flowy effect. I love playing with photos like this.

Nearby was Cook's Chasm, named after the British explorer, another deep narrow gully, but much shorter and without the deep, gorge-like sides of Devil's Churn. The chasm flowed under the concrete arches of Cook's Chasm Bridge, allowing the trust US101 Highway to wind its way through the lower rocky ledges of the cape.

The huge waves rolling into Cook's Chasm carved underwater caves out of the basalt rocks. We could hear the water roaring and reverberating, pounding and crashing with echoing booms. A smallish hole in the rocks above the underwater caves created an outlet for the pressure below, creating a geyser-like fountain of sea spray, like a pressure cooker releasing steam. In my imagination it was a fire-breathing dragon snorting sleepy smoke out of its nostril while curled up in its subterranean cave. Like Smaug. It is known locally as The Spouting Horn.

We stayed for a long time and enjoyed being hammered by the forces of nature.

We began to lose light so we hiked back up to the truck and set off back to the Trailer.

What a phenomenal, memorable day!

With Henry tucked up in the Trailer for a long lie in and a lazy day, Kim and I headed out for a leisurely beach walk at the Carl G. Washburn Memorial State Park, about ten miles north of Florence. 

Typical of a clear day after a solid week of rain, it was a beautiful crisp morning. Not a cloud in the sky. Sun shining so brightly we needed sunglasses from the glare on the white sand. The air was chilly, almost wintry, and there was a fair beach breeze coming in off the ocean. A few seagulls half heartedly called to each other as they headed towards the cliffs in the distance and we could see some sandpipers paddling close by on the shore.

Together we walked for miles, not another soul in sight.

Beachcombing.
Resting a while on beached driftwood.
Watching the waves roll in.
Drawing pictures in the sand.
Taking goofy photos.
Blowing the cobwebs away.
Solitude.
Together.

Bliss!






Afterthought: Is my woolly hat giving Blackadder Season 1 vibes??

After we visited the Sea Lion Caves earlier in the week, we stopped at a roadside pull off so we could take some shots of the Heceta Lighthouse. 

As soon as we got out of the truck we could hear them!

The noise was cacophonous!

Hundreds, possibly thousands, of Stellar Sea Lions were lying on the beach, jostling for position, front flippers flapping, whiskers twitching, lots of territorial teeth baring, snarky barking, honking, snorting, posturing, nudging for comfort and simply flobbing their bellies down on the sand to relax and bask in the late Autumn sunshine.

Many others were splashing about in the bay, surfing the waves, playing games and just joyfully mucking about in the water as if they were teens on Spring Break.   

It certainly made up for not being able to see the sea lions in the massive sea cave.

We stopped and watched for a good hour or so.

​It felt like such a privilege to observe these beautiful marine mammals in their natural habitat.

I've said it before and no doubt I'll say it again, we love these unexpected animal encounters.