Tillamook Head to Hug Point

Tillamook Headland map

In 1803 Congress appropriated funds that allowed President Thomas Jefferson to send his private secretary Captain Meriwether Lewis and a companion William Clark to explore the western reaches of the middle of the North American continent in an effort to locate and map a route to the Pacific Ocean. This expedition was intended to strengthen land claims in the Oregon Territory for the United States as well as scout out and catalog the various indigenous people groups, native plants and animals of the regions along the way. Although Lewis and Clark often followed rivers on their way west, once they arrived at the Pacific Ocean they turned south along the coast in search of whale blubber for fuel. Twenty miles south of the Columbia River mouth lies a magnificent headland known today as Tillamook Head. It is here that you can retrace the expedition's footsteps and see for yourself just what made Clark write "I beheld the grandest and most pleasing prospect which my eyes ever surveyed."

This 6.3 mile one-way hike begins at Indian Head Beach just out of Ecola State Park in Cannon Beach, Oregon. It requires two cars, one at each end of the trail, unless you want to return to the starting point and thus double your mileage. While driving to the trailhead we passed a small cluster of elk that had bedded down in the forest for the previous night. Sleepy eyed cows and bulls stared in silence as we drove slowly past, snapping pictures of the sight. At the trailhead, a car of surfers tugged on wet suits, hefted boards under arms and headed for the tiny breakers below.

Cue the Beach Boys' music

Heading for the actual trailhead we ambled northward up a gentle incline into the forest. A small stream gurgled underneath a footbridge, lush greenery lining every crevice along its downhill path. An early viewpoint on the trail showed us the southern beaches littered with large upward thrusts of pillow lava rocks, remnants of volcanic activity of old. The rocks formed as hot lava met cold sea water.

Southern beaches

Venturing further into the forest, we climbed along the face of the headland, weaving near and then far away from the steep cliffs that form as chunks of soil and rock fall away into the ocean below. At the cliff edge a cool upward draft of sea breeze offers a pleasant moment of air conditioning to heated hikers laboring through the climb. The forest is populated with several generations of timber, the oldest being the ancient ones, most of which were logged in the last century. Seven foot high stumps remain with their large platform notches once used by two man crosscut sawyers. Although these stumps are totally dry rotted, they remain as a shadow testament to the size of the original timber. A few of these giants escaped the saw and stand as immense guardians above the newer stands of trees. This ancient forest was likely the one Lewis and Clark encountered in their trek here. The next generation of trees stand thicker than the first one, younger so smaller in diameter but tall and ramrod straight as they stretch for the sky. Tiny third generation trees are sprouting from the forest floor, hemlock and Doulas fir ensuring yet another century of growth.

Low lying salal, oxalis and bunchberry coat the fallen logs with a green blanket that hides the tiny insect world busy at decomposition work at the soil level. Shades of green provide a mottled look at the feet of the trees, leading the eye through the forest to the blue background of the sky and sea. The trail, wide at first, becomes a narrow soggy bog in a hundred places, requiring some fancy step work to avoid becoming, well, bogged down. Unseen waters seep up in random places and soak the soil into a muddy, slippery mess. Boards have been laid down in some places, chopped branches and rocks in others to provide a higher footing for hikers.

Breaking into a clearing we discover a cluster of shed-roofed cabins complete with bunk platforms, a sheltered picnic table, a firewood cache and fire pit. Supplied by the park, this place marks a campsite of Lewis and Clark. It can be used for overnight stays and day hike picnics. Nearby, moss-covered cement chimneys record the presence of WWII bunkers, long decomissioned but once a vital part of the coastal security when it was feared that Japanese submarines would approach our western shores. The bunkers are locked to prevent touring but they present a Hobbit-like image under a hillside of dirt, trees and ferns.

After a suitable lunch we pressed on toward the summit of Tillamook Head, winding through, up and down and around the forested headland for an elevation gain of 900 feet and views of the lighthouse turned columbarium. Located 1.2 miles offshore, the lighthouse sits atop a rock surrounded by ocean. As the viewpoints become available on the trail, different parts of the coast can be seen, from Seaside and the mouth of the Columbia River to Neahkahnie Mountain. Sword ferns sprout like green fountains punctuating the forest floor. Last winter's long freeze seems to have spurred plant growth beyond what is normal. Trees have longer growth buds, ferns and undergrowth are larger and more lush. The whole forest is bursting with green life as if taking one huge invigorating breath.

Trailhead at Seaside

Ascending  boggy trail

In the steep descent from the summit, the trail becomes more narrow, crushed on every side by stretching plants, winding, rocky and even more boggy. Roots act as stairsteps in places and tired legs finally give up trying to step around the bogs and just trudge through them, coating boots and sucking trekking poles deep into the mire. The trail breaks out in a new housing development in The Cove neighborhood of south Seaside where a small parking lot holds our ride. I would recommend starting the hike at this point so that the harder ascent is managed with fresh legs.

Taking a lightweight, flat 2.6 mile round trip stroll from Arcadia Beach State Park to Hug Point State Park is a great way to loosen up the legs and enjoy a very lightly visited area. The interesting history about Hug Point is that it was traversed by adventurous travelers in early automobiles as the beach was the only north-south access prior to the construction of Highway 101. Wagon wheel and tire tracks can still be seen on the rocky ledge there.

Model T era

Today

This beach provides interesting shallow caves to explore during low tides (always be mindful of the tide schedule) and a wind-free pocket against the towering walls of Hug Point where a picnic could be set out. Because the Oregon coast is open to the public at all points, there is sand and room for everyone and a soul-soothing ocean roar to tame the stresses of city life. Take a day and venture to the coast for a walk through a forest or a stroll on the sand. It's always available for no charge!

Surfers at Indian Head Beach

Salal, oxalis and ferns in shades of green

Clark and Sacajawea trail markers

Rocky coastline at Tillamook Head

Boggy trail section

Hiker cabin

Let sleeping hikers lie

Secondary and tertiary growth

Hiker's lunch

Ancient stump

Moss covered bunker from WWII

Locked for safety

Azure ocean below the cliffs

Forest leavings - why?

A rare spared giant Doug fir

Tall and straight

Stairs over a bog

Springboard notch in ancient stump

Bog fodder

Oxalis overtakes downed tree

Fern fountains

Banana slug 

Elk herd at Ecola State Park

Downy rack

Haystack Rock and Needles

Crescent Beach

Arcadia Beach

Sea anemones

Barnacles and sea snails

Eco house with roof garden

Hug Point and "sail" cloud

Hug Point rutted route

Hug Point at low tide

Log jam inside cave

Cave entry

Cave with a view

Algae stream

Hug Point waterfall

Use?

Tillamook Head from Seaside

Seaside from The Cove

A little known beach at Seaside

Tillmook Head from the south

Salty the seagull

Tamanawas Falls

The Sherman Campground area on the southeast side of Mt.Hood hosts the trailhead to Tamanawas Falls. This four to five mile loop, depending on which option you choose, winds pleasantly and then challengingly through old growth forest along the Cold Spring Creek. Glacier fed waters sluice downward through available terrain on the grooved surface of the mountain, splashing, crashing, pounding their way to larger and larger waterways, eventually ending up in the Columbia River.

Surrounded by fog!

Dark clouds carrying promised rain began to move over the Sandy area and as we made our way around Mt. Hood, the fog surrounded us, obscuring views of the mountain, cheating us of the expansive views otherwise available. Once we split from Highway 26 on to Highway 35, the sky opened blue above us and assured us of a dry and scenic hike. This is typical of the Hood River longitude line: cloudy on the west, sunny on the east.

Parking in a gravel space at the side of Highway 35 we crossed a Forest Service bridge spanning the rushing waters of Cold Spring Creek. Without these wonderful structures, earlier hikers had to ford dangerous streams and lives were lost in some of the attempts. The trail lead upward, wide and soft with fir needles packed down by multitudes of feet. Thirteen hikers chatted merrily on a variety of subjects as the tumbling stream provided background music. Cool breezes ruffled the bright green vine maple leaves like tiny fans swishing back and forth.

Bunchberries, looking like miniature trilliums, lined the trail edges, sharing the space with tiny purple lupine, an occasional orange columbine, yarrow, lots of knickaknick, patches of purple penstemmon and the first blooms of fluffy reddish Indian paintbrush. Downed logs lay like pick up sticks at random angles over the forest floor. Low lying ground covers and small shrubs meandered through these soil feeders, giving the area a roughly carpeted appearance. Douglas firs, hemlocks and occasional pines stretched tall for the sunlight amid burned or diseased companions. Boulders small and large littered the ground, giving pause to consider their origins and placement here.

The dusty trail follows the highway and then turns west into the walled canyons of the mountain. Winds pick up and toss the surface dust about us. The pounding of large volumes of falling water are felt as well as heard in constant companionship on the trail. The supply of water seems endless as it cascades night and day down the gullies. This is a testament to the snow pack held by our mountain.

Mist rising from the falls

As we finally reach the falls, we relish a relaxing lunch stop where we are cooled by the aerating mist of the 100 foot drop of water. Cold Spring Creek dumps over a ledge at the back of a box canyon. Some brave the slippery scramble to the back of the falls and peer out through a circle of rock into the plunging waters. Returning to the trail, we head back over an enormous rock fall that obliterated part of the trail under massive boulders that broke off the wall above us. A restored trail leads us in switchback fashion through the jumble to a return loop above the incoming trail. This portion is less traveled as evidenced by the plants crowding over the trail, narrowing it to a mere twelve inches in width.

Undulating steeply, the trail takes us through a different part of the forest, manifesting the delicate balance between terrain, water, plants and seasonal vagaries that play on the accessibility here. At times we are nose to trail in our upward climb, later we sit back on our heels in descent. Rocks clutter this pathway making footing a challenge. A bright orange butterfly flutters past and a chorus of chirping birds discuss their day's agenda as we pass through their territory. We play hide and seek with the rays of sun that find their way through the upper canopy of tree  limbs. It is an interplay of hot and cool, bright and shadowy, quiet and a symphony of water music.

Stands of larger lupine shout encouragement from the edge of the trail as we pass by, tiny new hemlocks and firs bravely lining the low traffic trail with them. One day they too will be giants in this forest. Huckleberries are beginning to form their tiny dark sweet berries for hikers and bears alike. Several of us, independent of one another, heard a low growl sound towards the end of the trail. Not wishing to explore its source, we hurried onward. The endlessness of this part of the loop finally winds down as we parallel the highway once again, meeting our entry trail and the parking lot. The faster hikers await those less able to move quickly and enjoy snack bars discovered in the bottoms of their packs.  It has been a good day in the forest. As we round the mountain once again, clouds and rain overtake us in an attempt to erase the memory of our sunny walk in the woods. This blog and pictures will counter that notion! Make time for trails soon!

Cold Spring Creek 

Entering the forest

Highway from the trail

Forest Service bridge

Trees for salmon habitat

Rocky part of the trail

Boulder landslide

New trail segment

Origin of the rockslide high above

Bridge taken out in the landslide

Exposed tree root

Push that boulder away!

12 inch tree growing in a rock

Creek flotsam

Arrow in the dirt marks intersection on trail

Creek restoration for the fish

Ramona Falls: Aqueous Lace

Glamourous Ramona Falls

As pioneers made their way west, obstacles constantly challenged their progress toward the fabled Willamette Valley. In 1845 Sam Barlow was determined to find a shortcut around Mt. Hood for wagon trains. The Columbia River rafting option from The Dalles to Portland and subsequently Oregon City was expensive and fraught with danger. Sam believed he could find a safer overland route that would speed up the western flow of new settlers. In partnership with another businessman, Barlow searched for a way through the forest. He stumbled upon Ramona Falls in that process.

Today recreational hikers drive up Lolo Pass Road to the trailhead of Ramona Falls and climb 1100 feet over 3.6 miles to see this spectacular display of water falling over a wide staircase of basalt rocks. The hike is fairly easy as it follows part of the Sandy River, crosses it and meanders, roller coaster fashion, towards Ramona Falls. Squirrels scold us as we make our way into their quiet territory on a crispy dry trail under sapphire blue skies. The ruggedly scoured canyon holding the dashing river manifests layers of sand, rocks, boulders and downed trees along its banks which seem to grow deeper with each passing year of spring runoff. We hear the river before we see it, the gushing sound of water roiling over rocks drifts through the trees to our ears.

Rhododendron

Wild rhododendrons are just now blooming here, their fuschia pink blossoms randomly dotting the greens of the understory with bits of color. Darker purple Penstemmon bloom furiously in sandy patches along the river bank, defiantly holding their own despite feet of crushing winter snow and sandy desert-like conditions in the summer. Bunchberry, looking like tiny trilliums, poke fresh white faces towards us as we make our way along the trail. Ocean spray with its puffy white clusters of tiny blooms is just beginning to make a show.  Vine maple familiar in its fiery red-leaved fall display is today a bright new green. These airy shrubs line the creek that parallels the upper trail, framing tiny waterfalls and eddies in the water.

The trail alternates between tree root-rutted sand and hemlock and fir needled softness. A strewing of small rocks gives the impression of a dry stream bed at times. A hearty breeze flows along the river canyon and occasionally touches hikers in the forest, especially when the trail squeezes between the creek and a mossy downhill slope. The sounds of water provide music in the forest, each little waterfall adding its unique tone to the aquatic symphony. Layers of greens carpet the forest floor in a tossed salad manner as mosses, then low shrubbery cover the sandy soil, fallen logs and scattered boulders. Newly toppled trees are slowly overtaken by moss as if a blanket was being pulled over them, tucking them in for the long, glacial pace of decomposition.

Andesite walls of rock

About a mile from the falls andesite walls of rock tower above the forest floor, water seeping and dripping down its brownish face, creating small bog areas and filling small channels that feed the creek and later the Sandy River. This type of rock is similar to basalt, a prevalent form of lava flow in the area. Arriving at Ramona Falls, the stunning display of cascading water over shelves of splayed basalt draws thousands of visitors and photographers every year. It has the appearance of billowing organza embroidered with rocks. The dashing water becomes a misty spray that issues into the air around the cove. The changing light of the passing hours on the water has a hypnotic affect on viewers. It's like a slow moving but extended dance that keeps changing and you don't want to miss a single minute of it.

Lunching on a log, we meet other hikers who make this trek regularly and never tire of the sweet, moist air and striking waterfall. Returning the way we came, we complete our 7.2 mile hike under the silent watchfulness of majestic Mt. Hood, peering through the trees like a guardian watching its children at play. Forest Service bridges enable us to retain dry feet and quickly cross the waterways at various points. As the day grows warmer a crush of hikers and wanderers fill the trail while we head for our car and depart from one of this National Forest's most beautiful and accessible spots. Pack water, a snack and your camera for a memorable trip soon!

Sandy River 

Boulder-strewn canyon

Crossing the Sandy River

Wild Penstemmon

Cattle and horse barrier on the trail

Bunchberry

Vine maple frames a tiny waterfall

Snow "ball" in the forest

Today's eight

Ramona Falls detail

Ocean spray

Forest Service foot bridge

Round moss-covered boulder 

Layers of green

Mossy hillside

Mt. Hood standing guard over its forest