My memories of the Oregon coast are of a back-backing trip ...



My sister and I started in San Francisco and made our way camping and driving up the coast to Seattle. She had told me, “The one thing about back-packing is that you are never alone.”   As it turns out, the only other person we saw while back-packing was a lone biker who immediately peddled back up the trail and disappeared.

The shifting light produced cathedral-like effects streaming through the giant redwoods as we hiked through the mist. Beyond the ferns that covered the floor, we happened upon a large pile of rock slabs. As we drew closer, we heard loud growling. The trail switched back closer to the den, but luckily, we did not see any bears.  We had been warned that due to the hot, dry weather that August, bears would be coming down closer to the trails.

We found the perfect spot for our two-person tent on a level sandy spot on the river bank. It appealed to my sister that this spot was exactly under the world's tallest tree. There were signs of a previous camp and a convenient tree limb nearby from which to hang our food supply out of harm’s way.  

The ranger had said, “If bears bother you, just make a racket.” As I lay in the tent in the darkness, I developed a mental picture of the area around us as I scanned for bears: the wind in the trees on a hill and the river looping around us.  Several times, we did hear slow crunching steps on the gravel nearby.  I kept up steady pot banging after that.

We heard an increasing pattering sound. My sister commented that it sounded like elk and that they were coming our way fast. The animals stopped all around our tent. In the morning, we found all kinds of footprints in the sand.

As we continued up the coast, we took time to search for beach agates and examine bug-trapping bog plants.  We clambered over shifting sand dunes, and sat watching noisy sea lions. We joined a guided tour of the Oregon Cave’s limestone formations. Down the trail, we found the natural opening where this cave was first discovered when a dog disappeared inside. Evidently this is a fairly common way for caves to be discovered.

After hiking our way along the coast, we stayed at one of those wonderful rustic wooden park buildings.   In addition to the noise from the high winds, branches kept dropping on our tent all night when we camped in the Cascades. At least we planned on staying at a bed and breakfast the following night. When we got to the ornate Victorian building, the loud paisley rug that continued through several rooms and on up the stairs made me seasick.

I still have three metal buttons from the trip.  Each has words in white over a photograph of the attraction they describe: I went through the Oregon Caves, I've been to Sea Lion Caves, Oregon Coast and I’ve been to Mount Rainier.

I should have one made up with a black background that says, "I survived the night in a tiny tent beneath the World's Tallest Tree."

................
................

In order to avoid copyright disputes, this page is only a partial summary.

Google Online Preview   Download