Monday number three here in Depoe Bay on the achingly beautiful Oregon Coast, and first up, another walk. This is part of the view south from the veranda; whether sun or fog, the picture of the trees out back never fails to inspire our thoughts of the good fortune we enjoy in affording this opportunity to spend so much time here. We’ve spent multiple days before in other locations up and down the western edge of Oregon, but never were we so immersed in a routine with zero necessity to venture far and wide. Our familiarity after so many visits to the coast is allowing us to be grateful to comb this 70-mile stretch with a granularity that’s new to us.

Today, we returned to Gleneden Beach, only six miles north of here, though the difference between the cliffs abutting the ocean here in Depoe Bay feels a world apart from the long sandy beach in Gleneden. Seriously, we were ready to go if it hadn’t been for that thin fog layer enticing us to stop near the harbor, and for whatever reason, the water seemed a deeper shade of blue this morning. All of this required great study.

Only a mile and a half further up the coast, and now only four and a half miles from Gleneden, the golden light of the rising sun over Boiler Bay was cast in a color we’d never seen before. We’d have been crazy to pass this up. Call them god rays or crepuscular rays; either way, these beams of light briefly exist only as long as the proper amount of moisture is in the air and the angle of the sun in relationship to the trees create this spectacle.

If you study the imprints in the sand on the right, you’ll see that two tracks are Caroline’s and mine, and the next pair is of a dog and a single person, with that same pattern repeating to the right of that. What I’m getting at is that there are not a lot of people out here at 7:00 a.m.

This is the largest beach hopper/sand flea I’ve ever seen. It would appear that this specimen is a male due to its size, but I can’t get a good look at its gnathopods, two claw-like appendages below those giant antennae. Though the antennae already suggest it’s a male. Now consider that this tiny creature has a small rudimentary brain and a heart and will look for a mate to fertilize her eggs. Sure, they only live for a year or two, but they’ve been on the shores of beaches helping recycle waste for approximately 40-50 million years. By now, these little creatures are the fittest of their species, a survivor of time.

Our walk took us somewhere down there before turning around to leave the way we came.

This is the veranda I’ve mentioned on occasion. Caroline’s first day of working remotely was out there, and every day since, she’s sat in the sometimes chilly space without using one of the propane heaters and enjoyed her day admiring the light, the birds, a noisy squirrel, and the proximity to me just on the other side of the back door. The photo was taken late in the day, after wolfing down a quick dinner so we could get out for our evening walk, it is shortly before 6:00 p.m. This evening’s walk would take us “downtown” for a walk along Depoe Bay’s coastal trails.

Socking in for the night at Pirate Cove were these huge numbers of murres, with a few cormorants thrown in.

Just off the main island next to the rocky edge of land we were walking on was this smaller band of murres that allowed my lens to only get this close. Sadly, or stupidly, my zoom lens was packed for the trip up here, but I’m yet to lug it around. Later, at the end of our northern terminus of this walk, that lens would have come in handy. You’ll see what I mean soon enough.

Now we know for certain that murres are nesting here as this is the type of eggs they lay. A couple walking by us, noticing us examining the eggshells, shared that earlier, there was a bald eagle out here, flying back and forth between the island and the grassy area next to us, feasting on the eggs it was pilfering from the murre parents.

Back on the 10th of June, our first full day in Oregon, we were walking a nearby rocky area, and I took a similar photo. Obviously, looking at the number of mussels, barnacles, sea stars, and anemone shots, I’m not averse to oversharing a theme.

Maybe I should feel bad for those who live in such coastal areas, for whom the novelty of being in such environs has apparently lost its appeal. There’s no other way to explain why, summer or winter, the number of people in these beautiful areas is minuscule, but to a golf course or a nearby tap room, the people are lined up.

Only at the last minute did we decide to walk all the way to Boiler Bay and good thing we did, because whales. A pod of seven of them were hanging out in a particular spot just offshore for a good half-hour before we stopped seeing their telltale spouting. Caroline caught a glimpse of a body, and I spotted a bit of fluke just before it went back underwater. Our wildlife experiences during this trip have been nothing short of extraordinary. Today ended like so many others during this stay, in the hot tub.