"Ocean in view! O! the joy!"
-- William Clark, November 7, 1805
I've been to Oregon a few times, but had never been to see its Pacific coast. The weekend before Thanksgiving my wife, Linda, was attending a four-day yoga training workshop in Portland, so I went along and on one of the days visited the Oregon coast.
I took U.S. 30 northwest from Portland, following the Columbia River to the coastal town of Astoria, Oregon, which in 1811 became the first permanent U.S. settlement on the Pacific coast.
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| Map courtesy of Google Maps |
Astoria was named after John Jacob Astor, the New York businessman who controlled the fur trade in the U.S. from the Great Lakes to New England. Astor intended to control the fur trade in the Northwest by shipping furs to China, where they would be traded for spices and other goods to be shipped west around Cape of Good Hope to New York.
Between Portland and Astoria along the Columbia River are many factories, which I assume are paper mills:
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| Mt. St. Helens in the upper left |
After the fur trade dwindled, Astoria became a center for fishing, fish processing, and lumber. These industries, too, have faded. The town now has a thriving arts scene, light manufacturing, and a port of call for Pacific coast cruise ships. Neighborhoods are built along the side of mountains that rise steeply from the river:
A few Victorian houses remain after fires devastated the town in 1883 and 1922:
Astoria is about 15 miles inland from the Pacific coast, so to reach the ocean I drove another 25 miles southwest to Cannon Beach, Oregon. Here the mountains meet the sea in a mix of wide beaches and rocky shores:
As you can see from the image above, the high-overcast sky was not great for photography . . . but it was the only time I had, so I worked to make the best of it. I headed for the beach and its most prominent features, Haystack Rock and the Needles:
These outcroppings of basalt were formed by lava flows 15 to 16 million years ago; over time, erosion has separated them from the mainland. The "haystack" rock is 235 feet high and it eventually became the focus of my photography for much of the remainder of the day.
On this windy November afternoon I was lucky that the tide was out, so I could walk right out to the rocks. There were few beach-goers: a land-sailor . . .
runners . . .
couples . . .
with dogs . . .
solitary walkers . . .
and a guy who, in the presence of oceanic majesty and peace, just couldn't put away his mobile device . . .
But photographically the "teacups" here were the basalt outcroppings: The Needles and the Haystack.
The Needles (below) put me in mind of lines from "The Dry Salvages" in T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets:
Waves wash over it, fogs conceal it;
On a halcyon day it is merely a monument,
In navigable weather it is always a seamark
To lay a course by: but in the sombre season
Or the sudden fury, is what it always was.
The Haystack:
As the sun set, the photographically unfriendly gray overcast began to turn blue . . .
As the light faded, I walked back down the beach to my car for the drive back to Portland and turned for one last hand-held shot . . .
If you would like to see these images (and more) in a larger format, please visit my photography website, Todos Juntos Photography, by clicking here.
Enjoy!
