We spent the day heading south, ambling down the coast, stopping at Seal Rock and Waldport, checking out all the mom and pop shops and galleries along the way. 

We managed to pick up some beautiful photographic prints, a small, light blue glass buoy likely washed ashore from a Japanese fishing trawler and some postcards to send home to my Dad.

The truck was all steamed up as it was cold and little drizzly. We stopped in a small car park surrounded by pine and spruce trees and headed down some steep and slippery steps to reach the beach at Seal Rock, a State Recreation Site. We could taste the salt in the air.

The site was made up of a basalt ledge with an array of sea stacks, reefs and knobbly rocks formed 15 million years ago as a result of lava flowing from volcanoes across the Pacific Northwest.  The basalt was eroded over time by waves, wind and rain creating the most peculiarly shaped rocks.

The centerpiece was Seal Rock, a dramatic basalt behemoth shaped a little like a seal, sitting offshore, where we could see pelicans, cormorants and gulls sheltering from the pitter patter of the rain. 

The beach was strewn with wet logs, hauled in by the tide. A few sandpipers lazily pecked  at the shoreline. To the south we could see the tide pools built on the basalt sill. Due to the weather, we were the only ones on the beach. Once we concluded there were no seals or sea lions lying around or any blue jellies, we let Ollie off her leash and she had a good run, sniffing out exciting tidbits to nibble on. Once she found a worthy stick, she was in heaven as she and Henry played games together.

We walked down the beach to the tide pools and I could spot urchins and stars, but as the tide had already turned and was coming in at quite a pace, we didn't step on to the ledge to explore any further. We ambled back to the truck and moved on to Waldport.

The Alsea tribe were the first known inhabitants of Waldport and gave their name, or vice versa, to the river and the bay located in the heart of the town.  Early European settlers came from Germany in the late 19th century, officially naming the town Waldport after 'Wald" meaning trees in German, and "Port" due to its proximity to the ocean.

The day was a little dreary and grey and Waldport seemed to be the same. It was certainly brightened by some beautiful murals on the sides of the building on the main strip. We parked by the bridge next to the visitor's center. From our vantage point we could see the cliffs overlooking the bay and watched some pelicans land in perfect formation.

We didn't stay long in Waldport as we were getting hungry. We returned to the truck and headed back to the trailer for an early dinner and to escape the rain.

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.

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.