From tidal pools to volcanic lakes--Memorable trail running

The last few years I'd come to think of Marin County as the trail running mecca of my dreams. Then Oregon happened to me, and I'm increasingly becoming convinced that this place can't be surpassed. First of all, if you want to run on pavement you're practically out of luck. Everything here is a trail and they are everywhere! On a day-to-day basis there are a boggling number of options, especially if you consider unpaved Forest Service roads options.

Every run I've taken here has been memorable, but there are two in particular that I'm near certain will go down as life bests. Keep in mind that for me it's not my pace or even how I physically feel that defines the experience--it's what I get to see and do and the emotions those things incite that makes the run.

The first experience took place at 6am on the coast. I was staying in the lightkeeper's house of the Heceta Head lighthouse between Florence and Yachats. There is a trail that starts at the lighthouse, scales the head, and then drops down to the two mile long Washburne Beach on the other side. The head had been socked in with fog since I had arrived the previous afternoon. The morning was no different and created mystical, ethereal conditions. The side of the head away from the lighthouse is almost always foggy and it creates conditions for temperate rainforest. That morning everything was dripping, green, and the wild rhododendrons were in bloom. Just before the beach the hemlocks grow so thick and low overhead that the trail is called the Hobbit Trail.

Washburne Beach with mist shrouded Heceta Head in the distance

When I broke out on Washburne Beach I found that the tide was out, and here this means the ocean has receded almost a quarter mile. I could barely see the water, but it meant a broad swath of hard-packed sand to run on. Half a mile later the unexpected happened--a runner appeared out of the fog and came towards me. We exchanged, "morning"s and I think he was more surprised to see me than I him, because he likely didn't see any other cars in the beach parking lot and wondered how I got there.

Soon after passing the runner I saw large clusters of rocks that normally are covered at higher tides. I ran towards them in the hopes of tidal pools, but I was skeptical because I've never found a tidal pool with any significant living organisms in it. For once my skepticism was unfounded! Before I could get very close I started seeing starfish on the rocks. They were enormous and either purple or orange. Many were bigger than the width of my hand with outstretched fingers. In places there were so many that they overlapped one another. And they weren't all! There were mussels, sea squirts, urchins, and blue and green sea anemones. I had stopped running and started gaping.

Before long I had to head back because the lighthouse inn serves a seven course breakfast to all guests at 8:30am each morning. It was hard to leave without running the entire length of the beach, but the breakfast was worth it (peach blintzes for the last course--yum!!) and I looked forward to passing through the head's forest once again. I hope I'm lucky enough to repeat this run in the future.

The second run was inside Newberry Crater National Monument. I've taken to bringing running clothes with me wherever I go because opportunities to run crop up unexpectedly. I stopped at the visitor center to obtain a map and some advice from the young volunteers. Through a series of exchanges I learned that the 7.5 mile trail around Paulina Lake, one of the two lakes within the caldera, is running friendly. Thankfully they also told me to use bug spray before setting off.

I spent the afternoon and early evening clambering around on an obsidian flow and swimming in East Lake (all attempts to find the submerged hot springs were fruitless). It finally started to cool off and I set out on the run. I was immediately presented with large clouds of small bugs that just hatched from the lake. During the first five minutes I was focused solely on using the brim of my hat to keep them out of my eyes, mouth, and nose. Eventually I looked down at my legs mid-stride and saw they were covered with more than a hundred small black spots. The bugs were dying and sticking to my bug spray coated legs as I ran through them!

Thankfully I was soon out of this marshy area and into beautiful mixed conifer forest with the lake sparkling alongside. I couldn't have been happier, which helped me to ignore my complaining lungs (I was 2,000 feet higher in elevation than my lungs are accustomed to). I passed through several campgrounds, which contained the only people I saw during the run, and all of a sudden the water took on aquamarine shades. The volcanic rock that composed the lake bottom dropped off precipitously a few feet from shore. All along the underwater cliff I could see fish seeking out the hot water flowing from hidden springs. When I managed to look up and across the lake I saw the scree slopes of Paulina Peak, which were still holding onto a few banks of snow. The water and the peak combined for a breathtaking view. The next third of the run reminded me that I was within a volcano. A huge pumice flow was on the righthand side of the trail for close to a mile and then I ran up and around a large, red cinder cone that dropped down to the water where again schools of fish hugged the shores. The last third of the run was back to mixed conifer forest, but I spent a lot of time looking out onto the water to observe the activities on several boats where the occupents were fishing.

The bugs that stayed with me all the way to the end of the run

The mosquitos were brutal over the last mile, but the DEET kept them at bay. The light started to take on shades that signaled sunset was coming and it enhanced the views of Paulina Peak. The end of the run was funny because it featured me sprinting across the parking lot at the trailhead to the car and jumping in while closing the door as quickly behind me as possible in order to prevent the mosquitos from coming in with me. I reflected on the thoughts I'd had across the lake about what I'd think and do if the volcano had started to erupt on my run (live magma is only 2-3 miles below the surface). I was thankful all had stayed peaceful, but if an eruption had happened I was happy to say I didn't think I'd regret what brought me there.


I have many runs ahead of me as I prepare for a half marathon in early August, but the memory of these two will be top of mind for some time to come. Here's to any and all trail exploring you might be doing this summer!