Coos Bay, Oregon

The name is derived from the Coos Indians that lived in the area when the first white settlers arrived. The Coos lived in villages and used the land to hunt, fish and gather. Their neighbors were the Siuslauan, Kalapuyan, and Umpqua. 

One of the first European explorers to pass through was Jedediah Smith. Tragedy struck in 1828 as his party was moving northward into Oregon. Just twenty miles north of present-day Coos Bay was the site of the Umpqua Massacre. Escalating mistrust and violence led members of the Coquille tribe to kill all but four of Smith's party, he being one of the lucky few who survived. The Smith River, a tributary of the Umpqua, is named in his honor. 

Smith River near site of Umpqua Massacre.

The first permanent European settlers came to the bay in 1853, giving it the name Marshfield. Early settlers were very isolated from the rest of the world as any inland route would have required a trek through dense timber and over rivers. The ocean was the “easy” route to travel. 

Naturally, the sea has always been a source of income. The main industries today are fishing, timber, agriculture and tourism. After years of being fascinated by the name of the town, I was now excited to visit for myself and see what Coos Bay had to offer. 

Contrary to my previous notions, the city is not on the coast. Highway 101 comes from the south moving inland after Bandon. Greenery is everywhere, the road sometimes becoming a corridor of tall douglas-fir on both sides of the pavement. Our pathway followed a river that eventually widened into a body of water big enough for large ships. This was Coos Bay. 

Coos Bay Boardwalk.

Docked boats in Coos Bay.

Next to the bay was a boardwalk. On the boardwalk was a seafood market advertising clam chowder. There was also a ship museum showcasing several vessels. 

We ate at a local eatery off the 101 called Sharkbites. Due to Covid-19 restrictions we weren't allowed to eat inside, but instead ate at a picnic table along the bay. I ate fish and chips, which included tarter sauce and a lemony coleslaw. 

Steve Prefontaine, a 1972 Olympian, was born and raised in Coos Bay, Oregon. He tragically died at age 24, just before '76 Olympics.

Jenna and I stopped at the Marshfield Pioneer Cemetery. (The former town of Marshfield was renamed Coos Bay in the 1930's.) The cemetery appeared to be locked up at all entrance points, but we found a gate with a padlock that wasn't fastened. So we entered. 

The cemetery lies on a hill overlooking part of town. It was chosen purposefully to be above the high water table. It is next to the high school. Nearly all the headstones were hewn from the same gray rock, which seems to have preserved well the inscriptions. 

Marshfield Cemetery looking over Coos Bay.

It was interesting that headstone after headstone was toppled or broken is some form or another. After an extensive examination of the cemetery, I determined that at some point it must have been severely vandalized. There was no way that such a large amount of headstones just happened to break. 

Many of the graves dated back to the late 1800's. The earliest I found was 1873, belonging to Emma Morse Golden. It is probable that she was disinterred from another location and reinterred in Marshfield since the cemetery was only founded in 1888. 

Cemetery on a hill in Coos Bay, Oregon.

I was interested to find several death dates from the fall of 1909. One of them belonged to Peter Gustaf Larson, a Swedish-born logger who died in a tragic accident at Smith's Basin, about five miles in the interior from the Coos River. His story is related from Find A Grave: 

“He was acting as hook tender when a large log being drawn by the donkey engine slipped and came sliding back down the incline, striking Mr. Larson and crushing one leg from the thigh to the ankle in a horrible manner. The log also struck another man, the force of which threw him forty feet into a brush pile, but he escaped without injury and assisted in caring for Mr. Larson. 

“The poor fellow was carried by men of the camp through the narrow slashing to the roadway, a distance of nearly five miles. Here he was loaded into a wagon and hurried on to the river where a passing boat was hailed. A phone message brought Dr. Mingus who met them on their way in and administered stimulants. It was late when they arrived and the injured man was placed in the General Hospital at Marshfield. Every attention was given him, but the terrible pain proved too great a shock for his system to stand, and he gradually grew weaker until death relieved him of his suffering at about midnight.” 

Grave of Peter Gustaf Larson.

The following morning, under a misty and overcast sky, we took a drive west of Coos Bay to a small town called Charleston. My goal was to find a particular oyster farm. We turned off onto a dirt road and passed what looked to me like a boat graveyard. All sizes and shapes of ships sat on dry ground, many covered in rust and others in workable condition. We drove around with curiosity but didn't stay long because we felt like we were trespassing. 

Rusty ship near South Slough.

Not far from there I found the place I was looking for⸺Qualman Oyster Farms. I will admit that I know nothing about oysters, nor have I eaten any except the kind that come in a can. So here I didn't know what to expect. 

The oyster farm was located on the east side of South Slough. A “slough” is a common geographical term here, and the nearest I can tell, it seems to be a body of water that rises and falls with the tide, creating a swampy environment. Perhaps one hour it is a river or lake, and the next it is a muddy mess. 

We noticed that near the farm stood heaps of oyster shells. They piled shells like we pile gravel or dirt. “What could they be using that for?” I wondered. 

Piles of oyster shells.

We found a small storefront and parked on the graveled drive. While the family stayed in the van, I went inside to find our options. I didn't know if I'd find a store, a restaurant, or something else. 

I quickly learned that this was not a store, at least not in the traditional sense. They only sold one thing and that was oysters. The lady up front was very friendly. If we had a nearby home where we could have taken the oysters to cook them, I would have bought some. But, we didn't. 

I asked her about the pile of shells outside and she told me they were for reseeding. They own 235 acres of prime oyster beds, most of them in the South Slough, and produce 4,000 to 6,000 gallons of fresh oysters every year. She gave me a brochure to read and unfortunately we went on our way with nothing else to see or do at the oyster farm. 

Davey Jones Locker in Charleston, Oregon, just outside Coos Bay.

We drove over South Slough on a bridge, then to a small cluster of stores. We walked inside a shop called Davey Jones Locker and found a tiny store with all the necessities for fishing as well as a scant selection of food. 

Across the street at Chuck's Seafood they sold oysters and other seafood by the bucket. We bought a small cup of clam chowder and a stick of smoked salmon. The lady said they just pulled it out of the smoker last night. Both were the best I had ever had. The chowder was creamy and buttery with extremely tender chunks of clam. 

It was time to move on as we had to travel further up the coast. We drove back towards Coos Bay where we rejoined the 101. We navigated our way onto a causeway that crossed the bay and then onto terrain lined with forest and occasional boggy ground. Soon we crossed another bridge near the confluence of the Umpqua and Smith Rivers. ♠

 

Salmon stick and clam chowder.

 

Oregon Road Trip: 8 Days; 6 States; 2,362 Miles

This would be the longest road trip we had ever taken as a family. I was excited, but a little apprehensive about having to spend so much time in the car. It proved to be one of our most memorable vacations ever. We didn't do anything extraordinary—like go to amusement parks or baseball games. Instead we kept it simple and saw some stunning landscapes. Every day was an adventure! 

Mormon Crickets.

Plague of Mormon Crickets: Day 1; Middle of Nowhere, Nevada; 302 miles. This was one of the most disgusting things I had seen in my life! At first we thought dirt had blown onto the highway, but upon closer examination we discovered the dirt was crawling! We had to stop to truly get a grasp of what we were witnessing. All around us for miles—on the road, on the hills—crawled millions of crickets! It is interesting that they all seemed to be instinctively migrating the same direction. On the highway, many of them had been plastered onto the pavement by passing traffic (which wasn't much). It was a sight that had to be seen to be believed, and I was very grateful that I wasn't a pioneer trying to eek out a living and planting crops.

Austin, Nevada.

Ghost town of Austin: Day 1; Austin, Nevada; 340 miles. With the nickname of “The Loneliest Road in America,” it is no surprise that U.S. Route 50 is home to some quaint little ghost towns. Nestled among the foothills of the Toiyabe Mountains, Austin is an old mining town with lots of boarded up and empty buildings. In 1863, Austin boasted a population of 10,000 people, but now there are less than 200. We spent about an hour here, walking along Main Street, driving up to Stokes Castle, and roaming through one of four fascinating cemeteries.

 

Reno, Nevada.

The Biggest Little City in the World: Day 1; Reno, Nevada; 513 miles. This was our first time ever in Reno. I was excited to see what the mini-Las Vegas would look like. We enjoyed our walk along the Trukee River, which runs through the middle of town. But my first impressions of Reno: dirty and sketchy—just like Las Vegas.

  

Doyle, California.

Small white church: Day 2; Doyle, California; 555 miles. I honestly don't know a thing about this little building. As we drove down Highway 395, I spotted a small white wooden church with a picket fence around it. Short steps led to the front entrance and a white wooden cross sat perched on top. It looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie. And to boot, it was next to a cemetery.

 

Burney Falls.

Burney Falls: Day 2; Cascade Mountains, California; 676 miles. This was my first time traveling through the Cascades and I wasn't disappointed. No one else was, either. The kids were surprised when they first set eyes upon the mighty waterfall. One hundred and twenty nine feet high and two hundred and fifty wide. It is indeed impressive. We walked the 1.3 mile-loop that circumvents the falls. Burney Falls was a detour from our route, but it was well worth it.

 

Clam Beach.

First view of the Pacific Ocean: Day 2; Clam Beach, California; 884 miles. We thought we'd never make it. The drive between Redding and Arcata was beautiful, but a very curvy road. But at last we made it to the beach! It wasn't at all what we expected. We found a super strong wind blowing from the sea and a very rugged coast line—choppy waves, wind-swept sand, drift logs and icy-cold water. Hills clad with pine trees rose in the distance. Right away we knew our June vacation would have no sunbathing or dips in the ocean.

Redwood Forest.

Walking with giants: Day 3; Redwood Forest, California; 915 miles. Our first contact with these massive trees came at Prairie Creek Redwood State Park. I was surprised at how few visitors we encountered. It felt as if we had the forest to ourselves. For over three miles we wandered along moss-lined trails beneath an impressive canopy of redwood trees. It is difficult to comprehend until you've actually been there. It was like wandering through a fantasy-land, where we could expect elves and hobbits to pop out at any time. There is a tame herd of Roosevelt elk near the entrance of the park. Prairie Creek is one of many places a visitor could go. Whatever you do, you need to get out and walk to truly gain the experience.

Smith River.

Chilling by the river: Day 3; Smith River, California; 949 miles. The Smith River is named after Jedediah Smith, the first European to explore this area by a route other than sea. We drove through an impressive redwood grove with lots of camping spots and picnic tables. Our stop here was completely spontaneous, as we were looking for someplace else. But it turned out to be a pleasant intermission. We chilled by the river and occasionally rolled up our pant legs and waded in. The kids had fun finding flat rocks and skipping them across the water.

Macklyn Cove.

Macklyn Cove: Day 3; Brookings, Oregon; 973 miles. At last in Oregon! Although we had a beach near our hotel, we chose someplace else for our first sandy spot. Macklyn Cove is more on the secluded side. The easiest route to get there included parking on a steep and narrow dead-end road, then walking down a flight of stairs. This place didn't disappoint. We found sandy stretches, as well as rocky coves. We spent a couple hours, wading in the ice-cold water and exploring the shoreline. Then we watched the sun go down and silhouette the cliffs that rose above the water.

Harbor at Brookings, Oregon.

Harbor walk: Day 4; Brookings, Oregon; 973 miles. I've always dreamed of spending an extended period of time out at sea on a small fishing boat. This morning—while everyone else slept— I walked to the harbor and gave myself a tour. A low fog hung over the port. In the early morning, the still water reflected an image of vessels and their masts. I walked along the dock and admired the character of each ship, most of them old and rusty, each with a unique name that tied it to the sea.

Tide pool at Lone Ranch Beach.

Searching for sea creatures: Day 4; Lone Ranch Beach, Oregon; 978 miles. The fog still hung low as we pulled into the parking area at Lone Ranch Beach, with hills of spruce behind a wide stretch of sand. Although devoid of spectacular sea stacks like many of the other beaches, this shoreline is abundant in tide pools. We removed our shoes and braved the chilly water to get a closer look at all the marine life clinging to the rocks. We found starfish, anemone, mussels, and a variety of colorful shells.

Lunch at Arch Rock.

Lunch with a view: Day 4; Arch Rock, Oregon; 986 miles. This stretch along Highway 101 is arguably the most scenic in all of Oregon. We could have spent all day exploring hidden coves and picturesque beaches. Since time was of the essence, however, we had to pick and choose, unfortunately bypassing several places. With the exception of a few meals, we always bought our food at a grocery store and ate outside or in our hotel. The view point at Arch Rock provided picnic tables, along with a fantastic vantage point to observe some of the sea stacks.

Coos Bay, Oregon.

Dinner by the bay: Day 4; Coos Bay, Oregon; 1,080 miles. Coos Bay has always been one of those places that has stuck out on a map, calling me to come. And on this day, we finally came. But it began a bit rocky when I made a U-turn, not knowing I was on a one-way street, and for a small moment, risked the lives of our entire family! Unbeknownst to me, Coos Bay does not sit next to the Ocean, but is inland a few miles, next to a bay. (Imagine that!) We ate fish and chips—and other fish food—on the boardwalk next to the bay. Several boats are docked there, including a boat / museum.

Oregon sand dunes.

Sand Dunes: Day 5; Florence, Oregon; 1,130 miles. We didn't plan on stopping here, but I took a serendipitous left-hand turn off the 101 and fifteen minutes later we were looking over a beautiful stretch of shoreline with deep-blue ocean on one side, and a never-ending mound of fine sand on the other. I never would have imagined sand dunes in Oregon, but here they were. I think this would have been a fun family beach had it been twenty degrees warmer. Instead, we waded in shallow water until our feet turned to popsicles, then dried them off on the warm sand.

Heceta Head Lighthouse.

Heceta Head Lighthouse: Day 5; Lane County, Oregon; 1,148 miles. Coming around the bend from Sea Lion Point, just before passing Devils Elbow, a very photogenic lighthouse comes into view, perched on the distant cliffs. I wasn't sure if we would stop here, but once I saw it, it was too enticing not to. The Heceta Head Lighthouse is a beautiful red and white structure built in 1893 and named after the Basque Explorer, Bruno de Heceta. The beam can shine for 21 nautical miles, making it the most visible light on the Oregon Coast. Closer to the lighthouse you can park near the beach and hike there on a paved trail.

View from our hotel.

Room with a view: Day 5; Newport, Oregon; 1,185 miles. Just being an average family, we usually can't afford a hotel on the beach. But this time we splurged. Upon arrival we found our room to have a superb view of Nye Beach, complete with balcony and chairs. Especially with the cold weather, it was pleasant to merely sit on the balcony and enjoy the vista. At night we watched the ships slowly move across the dark waters, and to the north of us the rotating beam of a lighthouse.

Yaquina Bay Bridge.

Run on the beach: Day 6; Newport Oregon; 1,185 miles. I had to take advantage of the long stretch of beach below our hotel. I woke up before anyone else and jogged south along the sandy coast, just feet from the incoming waves. Near the mouth of the Yaqina River I ran up and over dunes of sand and along a trail toward the bridge. The Yaquina Bay Bridge is a beautiful piece of architecture with several steel arches.

Chowder Bowl at Depoe Bay, Oregon.

Chugging oysters: Day 6; Depoe Bay, Oregon; 1,198 miles. When looking for whales at Depoe Bay became fruitless, we decided to peruse the shops along the main road (Highway 101). We bought some tasty kettle corn, watched salt water taffy being made, and found a good gift shop. Then we decided to step foot into the Chowder Bowl. When I saw the oyster cocktail on the menu, I knew I had to try it. When the raw shellfish came served in a shot glass, I had to ask how to eat it. (This was an embarrassment to my family and is a result of living a deprived life in the desert.) The waitress was so excited to teach me that she ran in back and grabbed a shot for herself! She instructed that first you drizzle it with Tabasco sauce, then you douse it with lemon juice. Then you down it in one gulp. That simple. On the count of three, and after a toast, (and with the entire restaurant looking on) we successfully consumed our oyster cocktails. At least two people filmed us and afterward I received an ovation. Probably the closest I will ever come to becoming a celebrity.

Mount Hood as seen from across the Columbia River.

View of Mount Hood: Day 6; Washougal, Washington; 1,320 miles. Just over the border from Oregon, and a few miles east of Vancouver, Washington is the small town of Washougal. I am glad we decided to spend the night here. It has a very rural feel to it, and seems a hundred miles away from the din of Portland. We lodged near the Columbia River, with a view of Mount Hood across the waters. We enjoyed sunset over the river and listened to a powerful thunderstorm move in overnight.

Columbia River Gorge.

Cape Horn Lookout: Day 7; Columbia River Gorge, Washington; 1,329 miles. The Columbia River is something to be revered. This mammoth waterway is the fourth largest river in the United States and discharges more water into the Pacific Ocean than any other river in the Americas. You can either drive it on the Oregon side or the Washington. I'm happy we chose the Washington side. I believe it is much less popular, yet just as spectacular.

Panther Creek Falls.

Cascades in the Cascades: Day 7; Panther Creek Falls, Washington; 1,366 miles. On this day it was my goal to see some beautiful waterfalls—and that we did! Our first waterfall we accessed by walking through a cemetery. The second we walked a short distance up on canyon, not far off the road. The third—and my favorite—required a twelve-mile drive deeper into the mountain range. Then we set out on foot through a thick forest, down to the bottom of a ravine. That put us face-to-face with Panther Creek Falls. As you can see from the picture, it is very impressive.

Upper Perry Arch Bridge, Oregon.

Upper Perry Arch Bridge: Day 7; Union County, Oregon; 1,590 miles. This stop was purely serendipitous. We crossed back into Oregon and surprisingly passed through a beautiful forest, which I believe is part of the Blue Mountains. It is right off the Old Oregon Trail. What we found was an arched bridge that spans over the Grande Ronde River and railroad tracks. The bridge is of an historical nature (built in 1924), but for us it was just a fun place to get out and stretch our legs. We crossed the railroad tracks and walked down to the water.

Shoshone Falls.

Shoshone Falls: Day 8; Twin Falls, Idaho; 1,894 miles. I have wanted to see this for a long time. Sometimes referred to as Niagara of the West, Shoshone Falls is an impressive cascade along the Snake River in Idaho. Even though water levels were high from a heavy snowfall this winter, I was worried that the falls might not be up to capacity. The size of the falls depends on the amount of water released from the Milner Dam, 24 miles up-stream. Indeed we weren't disappointed. The falls flowed at 85% of capacity and we enjoyed the view from the top with dozens of other people.

Harrisville Park, Utah.

Harrisville Park: Day 8; Harrisville, Utah; 2,072 miles. By this time, we were anxious to get home. Our drive today would be over nine hours. We found a small park with a pond where we pulled over to eat lunch. Although we had never been to this particular park before, it felt good to be in familiar territory with the Wasatch Mountains reigning in the background.

Home sweet home!: Day 8; Somewhere in Utah; 2,362 miles. ♠