ebb2flo Tips

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One can travel from Astoria to Cannon Beach without seeing the mighty Pacific Ocean. I assure you, it's there, but often not as blue as you might envision.

There are signs indicating beach access. More info available at http://www.coastalatlas.net/index.php?Itemid=53&option=com_custompages

The wet sand of all Oregon beaches are public. Unfortunately not all access to the beach is public. The Oregon Beach Bill (House Bill 1601, 1967) was a piece of landmark legislation in the U.S. state of Oregon, passed by the 1967 session of the Oregon Legislature. It established public ownership of land along the Oregon Coast from the water up to sixteen vertical feet above the low tide mark." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oregon_Beach_Bill So the wet sand belongs to all of us. "In addition, it recognizes public easements of all beach areas up to the line of vegetation,...While some parts of the beach remain privately owned, state and federal courts have upheld Oregon’s right to regulate development of those lands and preserve public access.[30][36]" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oregon_Coast

There was once a law that if several cars got behind you, then you were to pull over and let them pass. If it is still on the books, it is not inforced. The law was created in recognition that log trucks, rv's, some trucks and cars have different gear ratios, require slower speeds to climb hills. Our roads were designed with this thought in mind. As you drive along a 2 lane road, such as hwy 26 that connect Portland to Seaside, there are several places where an extra lane appears. It looks just like a freeway, but it's not. It's a passing lane often has a sign, keep right except to pass. These sections are usually located on uphill climbs and often end at the top of the rise.

I start shouting "UF!" when I get behind a car that slams on the brakes at every curve, goes below the speed limit in the narrow stretches where it is impossible to pass AND THEN stomps on the gas, zooming above the speed limit in the "freeway" like passing lane stretches. The only reasons I can think of for this style of driving is 1) the driver is from an urban area where narrow streets means 35 mph, and multi-lane means 55 mph (or as fast as you can get away with.) Perhaps urban dwellers just have not realized they have left the city behind. 2)The driver is from the flatlands and has never seen a curve before. When the road ahead disappears around a bend, they become terrified and slam on the brakes, or 3) both of the above.

I drive Hwy. 26, only touching the brakes when I get too close to the bumper of a UF. Brakes and rain or ice are a bad combo. Letting my car slow before entering the curve and then giving it some gas to come around the curve makes driving fun. If you can't do this, then slam on your brakes, take the curve at a snail's pace, but PLEASE, when there is an extra lane, keep to the right and let the rest of us pass.

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Driftwood Logs: Look huge, but a wave can flip them like tooth picks. See video.

Tides: 2 highs and lows per day. It you plan to hike around rocky ocean shore, get a tide chart. Note if the tide is going out or in as you start on your hike. Take notice of the tide marks. It's easy to get out on a point at low tide and find no way to get back unless you want to swim for it. If you start your hike at high tide, you have 12 hours to get back before it is that high again. If you start out at low tide you have 6 hours to get back before the tide is high. If you leave after the low tide has turned and it's starting to come in, you may have a very short time before the sand you traversed is under water.

Cliffs: Many paths along cliffs provide an excellent breath taking view. Many are under-cut. It may look like solid ground at the edge, but don't make that assumption. Stay back a bit. If there is a sign pointing out danger, not to go beyond this point, please don't go beyond that point.

Sneaker waves: Don't fear the ocean but respect it. It is impolite to turn your back on the respected one. Always keep an eye on the waves. If you see a lot of sand where there used to be waves, move to high ground as quickly as you can.

Wild animals: It's exciting to see them. See them. Give them space. Don't harass them. Elk are cantankerous critters. They go where they please when it pleases them, so get out of their way. Even the gentle deer will attack if she has a baby fawn hidden nearby. The raccoon is a cute little thing, but not a pet and it can bite. That amazing little black critter with the white stripe down it's back won't bite you but skunk spray is worse than a bite. It's their home. They have no door bells for us to ring so that they can invite us in. They have no doors they can lock to keep us out. They just trust us to respect them.

People born in Oregon: We are a minority so you may spend your entire visit without encountering one of us. Generally speaking, our bark is worse than our bite, but treating us with the same respect I have recommended for wild animals is a good idea.

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A series of quick clicks grunts and groans and usually performed while observing the other's shoes, with a slight tip of the head to the side. This form of communication may seem odd and be unintelligible to non-locals, but is highly functional. The angle of the head stops the rain from dripping off the nose. Unfortunately, holding the head in this position only offers a clear view of the other person's shoes. Since most of us wear tennis shoes for good traction, we must use voice recognition to identify our friends from strangers. Thus the first words out of my mouth has a bark and snarl tone. If the other barks back, I know I'm talking to a friend.

As for the quick clicks grunts and groans that we utter to each other, it only sounds that way to you. It is actually and expedited version of speech. The first word comes as we inhale and then we clip it to the next, skipping a few syllables that no one really needs to be understood and ending as we exhale. In this way the entire process of going out to eat, becomes "Yeat." Just ask any of us, we have the correct pronunciation and the rest of you speak funny. The correct pronunciation for the name of our state is "Or-re-gun" and that water under the bridges in "Porlund" is the "Will-lamb-it" River. Don't be offended if someone tells you to "Havah-gu-day."

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Mom, Dad, and I were hiking Eagle Creek. I was old enough to have noticed there were boys, but had not yet figured out how to relate to them. A young couple was hiking ahead of us. The gal was having a difficult time traversing the muddy spots for it seemed more important to her to keep her shoes clean than to get around the next bend. My mom whispered to me, "She's in the wrong place. He's probably ready to shoot her." At the next mud puddle, she squeaked and the guy swiveled around, swooped her up in his arms and carried her across the muddy patch. Mom responded with a giggle, "Well I was wrong! Wish someone would have taught me that trick a long time ago." I also chuckled, knowing full well Mom was only kidding. We both knew that what this gal and guy had done was foolish and dangerous. This trail was not only muddy but perched on the edge of a cliff. One slip of the foot and they both would have been in big trouble. Equality for women has always been part of the True Born Oregonian culture. We got our shoes just as muddy as the guys. We carried our own packs just like the guys carried their packs. If the pack was too heavy it was clear that I had packed too much. I liked the system for I knew that if I got into trouble, all I had to do was holler help and a guy would have be there instantly with a free hand to pull me back from the slippery edge. He wouldn't have to take the time to set my pack down before he came to my rescue.

Several years later, I found myself in a part of North Carolina where southern traditions still ruled the day. I was shocked. Not only could three year olds carry on an intelligent social conversation, referencing adults as "Miss," "Mr." or "Mrs." but the men carried things for the ladies, often waiting on them hand and foot. At the sight of such conduct I wondered if the southern bells were able to distinguish a male of their own species from a pack mule. As time went by, I became more southern than the southerners. A young boy carried my groceries to my car. My man carried the groceries into the house when I arrived home. I thought nothing of it until one day, I arrived home and there was no guy there to pack my groceries into the house. I panicked. What would I do? I felt weak and helpless. Fortunately I remembered my early training. I rose to the challenge. I picked up a bag of groceries and headed for the door. As I placed the first bag on the kitchen counter top, I whispered to myself, "If you can't get them in here, you bought too much." As I placed the last bag on the kitchen counter, realized how pleasant it had been having guys pack my stuff for me. I also realized it had made me feel weak and doubt my on abilities. I vowed to return to the traditions of my early Oregon culture. From that day on, I have carried my own pack, suitcase, and my groceries. I feel self confident and guys no longer look like pack mules to me, or behave like a horse's patoot around me.