Reflections on a Unique Trail

My OCT journey is done, at least the walking part. It often takes me weeks, months, and even years, to process the impact of these treks on me. My body will take a few weeks to heal and readapt to not walking everyday, but it always amazes me that my mind will suddenly make a connection with something that happened on one of these trips years ago.

For example, I hiked the PCT in 2014 and with only about 200 miles to go to finish the 2,600 mile trail, I lost the tip of one of my hiking poles. Hiking poles become part of you on the trail. It is difficult to explain to people who haven’t hiked thousands of miles with poles in hands, but it becomes hard to hike without them, and losing a tip makes the pole useless. I had gone a mile or two, limping along with one pole, carrying the other, and wondering what I was going to do, when suddenly, there on the trail in front of me was a hiking pole tip. Not mine, but one someone else had lost. It didn’t quite fit my pole, but with a little emergency duct tape I always carry I was back in business. I had hiked two thousand four hundred miles on the PCT and never once had I seen a trekking pole tip on the trail, lots of other stuff, but never a tip. It was years later on another hike I realized what an incredible and amazing thing that was. How a series of events, both mine and some other poor soul’s, conspired to deliver a tip to me. How our whole lives are woven together from threads of serendipity, My good fortune was someone else’s loss. Of course, this was not a brand new revelation to me, but for some reason it resonated especially strongly at the time. It reinforced that sense of magic that often attends one of these adventures.

So first a few statistics about the OCT. There are many variations one can travel on the OCT route. Do you get a boat ride or walk the road, try the old trail, or the new, walk through town or along the beach. My OCT was 414 miles long, which is in keeping with the “about 400 miles” that is quoted in the guidebook. There are 262 miles of beaches, about 60 miles of road walks, and around a 100 miles of forest trails. This took me roughly 1,000,000 steps to complete. The elevation gain over the 414 miles is 25,740 ft., or just 4,000 feet shy of climbing Mt. Everest. However, all the OCT climbing is obviously done near sea level. I spent 27 days actually walking the trail for an average of 15.3 miles per day and my longest day was 22 miles.

I have hiked over 10,000 miles in the last 9 years on trails both long and short. Most of them were remote and rugged. Even the Appalachian Trail was as remote as possible given the location and it was definitely rugged. So hiking the Oregon Coast Trail was really different. One of its defining features was its proximity to US Highway 101, aka the Pacific Coast Highway, and before 1941 aka the Theodore Roosevelt Highway. And as a hiker, one is always aware that the highway is just east of you, maybe a few feet or maybe a mile or three, but hardly ever much more. It is a constant if mildly annoying part of the journey. Walking on the road for short distances was an evil necessity to cross some rivers or bays or get by some other obstacles. The roar of traffic was usually drowned out by the bigger roar of the surf or the sound baffling ability of the forest, but not always. On the other hand, the road was also mildly reassuring. It provided easy bus transport, resupply towns, a morning latte, or a quick burger along the trail. That was kind of amazing. I found out quickly that walking 101 belonged to events that we refer to as “4th flute” events in my family. Let me explain:

My daughter was trying out for Jr. High band. She played the flute. She worked very hard on the practice piece in hopes she might be first chair flute, but when she auditioned she was assigned to 4th chair flute. She was very disappointed and glum that evening at dinner. The next day she was her usual cheery self. When asked what had changed to make her happy again she said this, “Well, I’m still disappointed, but I decided I can be unhappy and be 4th flute or I can be happy and be 4th flute. Either way I’m 4th flute, so I might as well be happy.” And so she was.

So, I thought to myself, I could be unhappy walking 101 or happy walking 101. Either way I have to walk 101 so I might as well be happy. And I was, because I would find a flower, or see a heron fishing, or view an interesting old house along the road and know I wouldn’t have seen them if I was not walking the road. It became a game to find all the interesting things along the highway. 

Least you think the OCT was just a road walk with a few beaches and forests thrown in, let me dissuade from that. The road was always there, but once you got used to the idea, the trail was amazing. The long uninterrupted beach walks along incredibly clean sand, no oil, no trash, just sandy beach. Then just when that got boring you would dive into an old growth and mature second growth forest primeval. Filled with dense green foliage, sword ferns, alder, and immense trees, the trails switchbacked up and over thousand foot capes jutting into the ocean. With astonishing views and historic light houses, they never failed to impress.

One thing that makes a hike like this interesting is the challenge. The OCT abounds in challenges, most of which are surrounding the tides. Rivers must be crossed, some beaches must be accessed, and some points can only be gotten around at low tide. Timing was everything in planning each day. You had to take into account the tide. Toss in a half dozen landslide areas where the trails keep sliding away and a boulder pile or two to climb over and you have challenge. You have adventure.

Then there were the towns. Each town had its own flavor. Working class North Bend and monied Bandon for contrast. And whether it was a fancy coffee shop in Cannon Beach or the local Dockside Cafe in Port Orford, the variety of people was most interesting. Almost all of them were decent folks to this old homeless looking hiker, too.

I’ve come away from the OCT with a new understanding of the western border of my state. I saw a lot of struggle. There is the grand struggle between the land and the sea. The sea stacks are testament to the fact that the sea usually wins. Likewise, there is the struggle between the stabilized invasive grass covered dunes and the natural shifting sands. There is the struggle between the developers and the environmentalists, and the struggle between private property and public access to public land.

And then there were my humble struggles with injuries. At first I was inclined to chalk it all up to my age. Things were just wearing out. But eventually I came to realize that, although there is some truth to that, my injuries were really no worse than ones I sustained 10 years ago, and my recovery time was about the same. So, maybe I’m not too old to be doing this. But I did relearn my limits, as one does when they extend their reach a little too far.

These journeys alway teach me patience. In between I always forget, but then I go on another long walk and learn it all over again. There is a saying among thru-hikers that “The miles don’t walk themselves.” Meaning you can sit in camp and complain all you want, but to get anywhere you have to get up and start walking. On the flat I can do 20 minute miles. On more varied terrain it’s more like 30 minute miles. And, interestingly, 30 minutes takes exactly 30 minutes, no matter how much you want it to take less time. Patience is the answer.

I also found that people are still pretty nice. Whether it’s an old guy in a too big pickup truck with a Trump sticker who picks you up when you’re hitching, or a couple of college kids who pull over and offer you a ride, they are decent folks. In fact there were decent and friendly folks all along the trail. People who offered me a water or a beer, folks that took a moment to talk to me and got genuinely excited about my adventure, and even those that just waved at me as I walked along the beach. Kind of restored my faith in people, at least a little.

There is a sweet cadence to days on the trail that I will miss. Getting up and going to bed with the sun. Fixing a simple meal with my trusty little camp stove. Even packing my pack with everything in its place, is enjoyable. The physicality of walking, climbing, jumping, and crawling that comes with any hike in the wild is invigorating. Yes I sweat and get sore muscles, but I am also most alive and completely in the moment as I hike along.

The trek is finished. The hours of planning, training, and then hiking the OCT have occupied much of the last 7 months. It didn’t go completely as planned, but then it never does. That’s what makes this whole endeavor interesting. The OCT is a worthy trail. Very different, but very interesting and rewarding. I am glad I did it. In fact we all did it, those of you who followed along in this blog, my family, Nancy, and Cappuccino were all “with me” on the journey. We did it together. So thanks to all of you and all the folks that have made the OCT a reality. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Happy Trails…