Over the years, Oregonians have fought hard to preserve the natural beauty and monuments of their coast. Today, the 363-mile shoreline remains as wild as ever.
Gabriel Cruz swept down the dune, hit the jump and somersaulted. The moment stretched – Matrix-style – as the two-time sandboarding world champion rotated, feet over samurai topknot. He then spanked his board on the slope and glided to a stop.
Sand Master, the world’s first sandboarding park, is one of several places along Oregon’s shoreline that suits the free-wheeling, nature-loving vibe of what locals call the “People’s Coast”. Across 40 acres of privately owned, sculpted sand, riders can tackle dunes – some up to 500ft high – any way they want. It’s an adventurous way to play along the coast, just 30 miles north of the preserved Oregon Dunes Recreation Area – the country’s largest expanse of coastal sand hills. “With snow, you need an expensive lift ticket and then you have to follow runs,” explained the US junior champion, 13-year-old Diego Chaves. “Here you just go out in nature and create your own paths and jumps.”
This idea – of heading into nature and enjoying the wild spirit of Oregon’s shoreline – continues to ring true along the “People’s Coast”: a 363-mile stretch of sand that’s been designated public land since the early 20th Century, when governor Oswald West established the shoreline as a public highway. In the 1960s, when the land again came under threat, governor Tom McCall passed the Beach Bill, which declared that all land within 16ft of the low tide line belonged to the people.
To this day, Oregonians fiercely support this proud tradition of keeping their beaches public. And even more than that, they continue to find ways to preserve the natural beauty and monuments of their shore – ensuring that the coast stays as wild as they found it. A few months ago, I drove north along Highway 101, from the Oregon Dunes Recreation Area in the south to Oswald West State Park in the north, to experience the fruits of Oregon’s efforts first-hand.
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Two of the most photogenic stops on Oregon’s wild coast sit 49 miles north of the Oregon Dunes Recreation Area. Thor’s Well is a blowhole where high tides spout water 20ft in the air and Cape Perpetua is the coast’s highest viewpoint accessible by car. The 800ft headland, fletched with Sitka spruce, plunges down to tide pools blazing bright with lime anemones, violet sea urchins and ochre sea stars.
“It’s cool to walk around [Thor’s Well], but you have to be very thoughtful,” said Greg Vaughn, author of Photographing Oregon. “It can be treacherous place for people unfamiliar with sneaker waves.” These fast and furious swells rake the beach, carrying large amounts of sand that bog down clothing. Visitors should also watch out for logs in the surf – even a tiny one could be waterlogged enough to weigh tons.
Nearby is a less dramatic monument to Oregon’s determination to keep the coast wild. Just three miles north, residents of the charming hippie town of Yachats fought to preserve the historic oceanfront Trail 804, a low-impact trek that passes tide pools, pebbled coves and expansive ocean views. “Not only are Oregon’s beaches open, but people are very avid about maintaining access sites,” said Bonnie Henderson, the author of Day Hiking: Oregon Coast. “They have to be. There’s no going backward once we lose the right of way.”
Dusk settled as I travelled north towards Cape Foulweather, a popular whale-watching spot that overlooks the white-water cauldron of Devil’s Punchbowl. Here, stormy seas slam into a hollow rock created from the collapse of two sea caves. The wind howled and buoys moaned.
Creeped out, I scuttled through Depoe Bay, the world’s smallest navigable harbour, and didn’t pull over until I saw the turn off for the Cape Kiwanda Natural Area, which offered a perfect view of the 235ft-tall Haystack Rock: a solitary fang that’s commonly mistaken for the more famous Cannon-Beach show-stopper. Each day, fishermen battle through the surf here in flat-bottomed dories, which they draw safely onshore at night. During the day, strollers and swimmers take over the broad sweep of beach.
The clouds lowered, draining the landscape to pale watercolour brushstrokes. As the first raindrops fell, I turned north toward Cape Meares, where a massive Sitka spruce has been nicknamed the Octopus Tree. Legend has it that the Tillamook tribe trained the tree’s branches to cup outward from its now 50ft base, creating a U-shape that would have been ideal for holding cedar canoes and other ritual objects.
The terrain flattened as I swung inland to pick up Highway 101 again. But soon I was climbing steadily, amid the ferns and moss of a cool, coastal rainforest. Stark, sheer cliffs began to the flank the sinuous road… and then the sky’s lid dropped down, fog and clouds together reducing the world to black and white. I had reached Oswald West, the state park honouring the man who saved Oregon’s beaches. I pulled over to watch the waves crashing below and marvelled at how this beauty would remain forever wild, thanks to the foresight and determination of Oregon’s people.
With thanks to Infiniti