What a difference a day makes!

July 9, 2017

In one day's drive, we traded in our last glimpses of the hot dry environs beneath snow-covered peaks: Mt. Lassen . . .

. . . and Mt. Shasta . . .

and logging trucks . . .

. . . for the cool, breezy, damp Pacific coast, and what an incredible difference it is at the Oregon dunes.  All underfoot in the mountains was either jagged volcanic rock or flour-fine volcanic ash.  On the coast, all is sand.

Oregon dunes, snowy plover . . .

In case anyone would think we just strolled out to the beach to get these photos and to enjoy our first wade into the Pacific, it bears noting that we are at an area referred to as Oregon dunes - a better nomenclature in my mind would be Oregon steep loose sand mountains, but then I suppose that is a bit unwieldy to satisfy the Chamber of Commerce.

At any rate, suffice it to say that we worked plenty hard to get our first glimpse of the ocean.  The worst part was that unless we wished to live on the beach forever eating bits of flotsam and jetsam, we had to climb back up the other side that was even steeper.

Our initial drive into the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area took us around protected nesting areas for the snowy plover, and between deflation plains, marshy sections and the dunes, which can be as high as 500 feet.

We were very surprised to see deer in the marshy areas and pleased to get another life bird out on the beach - the snowy plover.  Not many birds out there, but we also identified western sandpipers and semi-palmated plovers.  Other birds we've picked up along the way include barn swallow, double-crested cormorant, belted kingfisher, Wilson's warbler, and chestnut-backed chickadee.

Siltcoos hike . . .

The Siltcoos River flows into the Pacific near where we parked.  We thoroughly enjoyed a four-mile hike through one of the dimmest forest areas I have ever encountered, looping down to the Siltcoos Lake and back another route.

Long ago clear-cutting has left huge stumps of trees that were severed above the swell.  Sawyers utilized springboards to cut them: cutting notches into the trunk allowed them to insert and shim boards on which they stood to fell the giants.  The photos below show a stump with the springboard notches visible and an old one with two sawyers standing on the springboards.

The lush understory along our hiking route consisted primarily of ferns interspersed with huge-leaved plants that we didn't recognize and a few fungi (I will refrain from telling my fungi-in-the-bar joke again).

The oddest aspect of the hike was that there was no life in the forest except botanical until we were almost to the outside of the dense stands.  All the trees were exceptionally tall and densely packed; with the downed trunks and underbrush, off-trail walking would have been extremely arduous.

The only light that penetrates into those dense woods is near its outside perimeter, either the lake side or the dunes side.

Judging from other places we have been, we would have expected it to be teeming with birds, animals and insects.  Instead, it was completely still and devoid of sound other than the occasional wind-created creaking of a tree far overhead.

Loon & kite . . .

We did see a common loon bobbing around out on the lake all alone; I was thrilled when he graced us with his haunting yodelling call.   Chris also got another life bird - a white-tailed kite - when he hiked to the top of a dune behind the RV park to get a cell phone signal.  I don't need to call anyone that badly, but I was sorry to miss the bird.

Umpqua lighthouse . . .

One of a number of lighthouses along that coast, the Umpqua was fascinating to visit and tour, and the accompanying Coast Guard headquarters-cum-museum was very well done.

We were able to climb up into the light compartment, which housed a Fresnell first-order lens.  Developed by French physicist Augustin-Jean Fresnel, the lens revolutionized the distance that light could be seen from lighthouses - up to 20 miles out to sea.

At Umpqua, we were able to stick our heads up into the lens mechanism as it rotates, continuing to be used, but now driven by an electric motor rather than the previous pulley/weight system.

Each lighthouse has its own light signature, allowing ships to know where they were along the coast; Umpqua's is two whites and one red.  Reminds me of the olden days with party line telephones: our ring was two longs (at least I think it was, but who's going to dispute me after all - the sibs probably don't remember it any better than I do), or if it was another party's ring and you didn't have much to do, you could always quietly pick up the receiver and listen in (not that I ever did that).

The museum had some very interesting information and photos about early Coast Guard life-saving activities.

The oddest aspect of the lighthouse's siting is that dunes have grown up in the meantime and it is not on the river bank nor the ocean, but sitting up above both.  Its predecessor was constructed right on the sand of the coastline and rather predictably, succumbed to floods that washed out its foundation, leaving it to fall into the river.  The old wagon road over which supplies were brought in from the river is still clearly visible.

Prescottonians, chowder, vintage boats . . .

We quite enjoyed one non-foggy morning (not many of those here, we find) for a stroll through Florence's small outdoor market.  Made up of mostly craft-type booths and little in the way of produce, we were surprised to strike up a conversation with a couple who lived in Prescott in the past.  Mike & Pat Crouch were happy to talk to someone from their previous home and asked us to pass on their greeting to some of the folks she worked with at JB's Restaurant - nice folks they are for sure.

More nice folks we met at the marina in a floating seafood dispensary.  A sample of their crab chowder led to a lunch-time shared bowl of it.  Chris declared it possibly the best chowder he had ever eaten.  I, however, was not quite as enthusiastic, seafood not being my fave.

There is a small marina nearby on the Suislaw River that sported some very handsome vintage boats, commercial and pleasure, and one especially for which the word "tub" was the best descriptor.

As always, my curiosity extends to just about everything around me, in one case, to a host of pulleys and gears and gadgets on one of the boats in the marina.  I was astonished when Chris began explaining how they are used for fishing and stabilizing the boat and so on, so I asked how he knew all that.  Turns out it was from reading "The Perfect Storm".  Discouraging really: I read the same book and didn't know any of that. . .