Sea to Shining Sea

 

Today was all about the beach. Living as we do on the eastern edge of the continent in Bar Harbor it’s easy to take for granted what it means to be close to the sea. Beyond the obvious audio, visual and olfactory delights, there’s a freedom in knowing you can literally step out your door, board a ship, and go pretty much anyplace in the world. No clogged highways. No bus rides. No cancelled plane tickets. Just go.

After some three weeks of traversing the interior of North America, where the only waves we saw were in fields of grain, we welcome the chance to feel wet sand under our feet.

Sunset Beach is a broad, flat expanse of densely packed sand that is actually listed as a state highway with a speed limit of 25 mph. Winds that get a head start in Northern Japan dance across the Pacific and push the water ashore in a complicated wave pattern with four or more breaks, even on relatively calm days.

The southern boundary is set by 1,200-foot-tall Tillamook Head. Some 12 miles to the north, the beach yields to the massive stone jetty that protects the mouth of the mighty Columbia River. One hundred yards from the surf line, steep, grass-covered dunes, mark the eastern edge.

Although the entire strip can be packed with tourists in high summer, in October people are few and far between. We drive the beach for several miles, taking care to stay towards the middle. If you get too close to the dunes, the loose dry sand becomes a trap. There are risks involved in driving through the incoming water as well. The key is to keep moving. If you stop in the surf the sand will quickly be scoured from beneath your tires, just like it does under unsuspecting feet. Even with four-wheel drive, once you sink too low, there’s no way to self-extricate.

Lots of people fail to heed these advisories. Fortunately, there’s a local volunteer service called “Sons of Beaches,” operated by members of the Clatsop County 4x4 Club, that will race to your rescue. They pull as many as a dozen vehicles a day out of harm’s way.

We choose to stop about five miles down the beach to get out and walk in the surf. Barefoot, we cross about 50 yards of cool wet sand taking care not to step on the numerous small jellyfish washed in by the retreating tide.

The water itself is cool, not cold, much less painful than going in over your ankles at Sand Beach in Acadia National Park, even in July. Seeing the Grand Canyon a couple weeks ago was impressive, but the din and motion and raw energy of this place overwhelms. It’s not that one is any better than the other, but a visit to the canyon involves a much more passive interaction. Walking into the surging Pacific Ocean is literally an immersive event, like the first time you experience surround sound explosions in a 3D movie theater vs looking at a painting in a museum.

Farther down the beach we stop to explore the skeletal remains of the 300-foot steel barque Peter Iredale which went aground here in 1906. Just a portion of the bow and stubs of its three masts remain. The Maine Coast is no stranger to shipwrecks. The Outer Banks off North Carolina is often referred to as the “Graveyard of the Atlantic.” But when it comes to shipwrecks per mile of beach, Northern Oregon pretty much takes the cake.

The wreck of the Peter Iredale.

This is the same section of ocean the greeted Lewis and Clark and their Corps of Discovery when they stumbled out of the forest and realized they had reached the western-most extent of their explorations in November of 1805.

They too were astonished with the Pacific’s power after more than a year and a half of traveling overland. Clark later wrote in his journal that his men were “much Satisfied with their trip beholding with estonishment the high waves dashing against the rocks & this emence ocean.” It’s nice to know that even some 216 years later, with all our technology, science and knowledge, that the mere sight of a great and ancient sea still remains such a powerful touchstone.

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Sunset Beach in Oregon