I try to make this collection of wonderful parks a 3- or 4-day stay—I like to linger and just loaf around the trails, viewpoints, and colorful gardens that this unique Oregon destination offers.
Like my good friend, retired Sunset Bay Park Ranger Andy LaTomme said, “What we find with a lot of folks is that once they come, they revisit time and time again because it is so special. Around every corner, over every little rise, there’s something to delight your senses—it’s a delightful place, a great place to be.”
April
1
Bayocean—A Spit You Can’t Resist
Some Oregon back roads reach into the distant past, but if you join the right people—the past comes to life! I love the kind of travel that puts me in touch with adventure—especially when it intersects with the Pacific Coast Scenic Byway—that promises to teach me more about Oregon’s past.
Bayocean is a spit you cannot resist. Drive west from the town of Tillamook to reach Bayocean Road, which skirts the southern end of Tillamook Bay. Soon, you’ll come face-to-face with the site of Bayocean Peninsula Park, a now-extinct community that was a developer’s dream turned homeowner’s nightmare.
Construction of the subdivision began in the early 1900s when it was coined “the Atlantic City of the West.” It boasted homes, cabins, restaurants, and stores, even a centerpiece hotel with an indoor swimming pool.
Harold Bennett and Perry Reeder—now in their seventies, were boys when Bayocean was still a thriving community. Each remembers paved streets, sidewalks, and store fronts. “At one of the stores there was a famous sign taped on the window,” said Bennett. “‘Watch Bayocean Grow’ and it was there until the time that they burned and bulldozed the building down.”
Reeder said the trouble was that this sprawling concept was “built upon sand—and sand is vulnerable to wind and tides. To put it simply, sand moves!”
That’s what happened after Tillamook Bay’s North Jetty was completed in 1917. The Bayocean Spit began to erode within 3 years following the jetty’s construction.
Between 1932 and 1950, the ocean cut a mile-long swath across the spit and across the townsite. Slowly at first and then with greater momentum, homes began to slip and slide into the deep blue sea. “Buildings were falling down, houses were going into the ocean, and people had to move out. It was all so sad,” said longtime Cape Meares resident Barbara Bennett.
Bayocean’s Dance Hall (foreground) burned down while the natatorium slid into the sea by 1939.
She remembers homes sliding down eroding sand dunes: “Many people lost their lots, their houses, and their money and were able to save only their possessions.”
Reeder added, “It’s really amazing how well the people took it—if it happened today there would be lawsuits everywhere, but those people stand out in my mind—they took it so well.”
Some homes were saved from ruin when they were moved. Like the one that is nicknamed the “Pagoda House” for its distinct style. “It was falling off a hill and they had to pull it through a sandy area with tractors until they could get it on a truck,” said Jerry Sutherland.
Sutherland is a history buff who is fascinated by the Bayocean story. He devotes a blog to the saga (bayocean.net) and writes about the community regularly and said that five homes and the Bayocean School were moved to the nearby village of Cape Meares in the nick of time.
In fact, the former Bayocean Elementary School was remodeled and now serves as the Cape Meares Community Center. “It was a case of nature against man and nature didn’t care much about what happened to the people—it just got worse and worse until the community was burned and bulldozed under in the 1950s,” said Sutherland. The public is welcome to visit the community center, but its hours of operation are irregular, so check in with the building managers through the association website before your trip.
Still, Bennett and Reeder hold on to their shared history and childhood memories by placing signs and markers across the spit to show where the roads ran and where the many stores and hotels stood. Both fellows are proud to have been a part of a community that was once a vacation destination and is still open for exploration—on foot or on bike. In fact, you can rent bikes with fat tires customized for riding on the sand. Today, Bayocean Spit is managed as a Tillamook County Park and the marked sites are open for you and your kids to visit anytime. It is great fun to stroll its 4-mile length even though all signs of the former community are long gone.
1A Bayocean Peninsula Park
Where: Bayocean Dike Road just north of Cape Meares State Park
Web: www.co.tillamook.or.us/gov/Parks
Phone: 503-322-3477
1B Bayocean School (now Cape Meares Community Center)
Where: 5690 4th Street NW, Tillamook, OR 97141
Web: Cape Meares Community Association (owner of the old Bayocean School): capemeares.org
Watch the Episode: traveloregon.com/bayocean-spit
2
Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah at Oregon Zip Lines
When I was a boy—say, 10 or 11—I lived for after-school free time—up in the trees! Really! I was a tree climber and my heart soared with each reach up into the giant Doug fir trees that bordered our backyard—the giants were like a haven to a kid who loved to really “get away from it all.” Other neighborhood kids my age did the same and some of the lucky ones even had tree forts that allowed us to spread sleeping bags, light a lantern, and spend the night.
Perhaps that’s why I have a newfound love affair with a popular recreation that is spreading across Oregon like wildfire: zip-lining, where you climb up onto platforms and soar across the skyline from one station to the next. I like to cry “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” at the top of my voice as I scream above or through the trees at two new zip line courses that are open to kids of all ages.
ROGUE VALLEY ZIPLINE
The sound gives it away—a distinct whirring and metallic noise as a dozen steel rollers spin across a thick cable. It’s a high-wire act that lets you glide over tree tops and leave all your troubles behind on a Rogue Valley ZipLine Adventure. It’s a ride that requires you gear up for safety so zip line guides Steve Carlino and Katie Fawkes show you the ropes of handling a harness and helmet before leading you up a short trail to ZipLine #1.
As we walked toward the first zip line, called Bunny Hop, which offers newcomers a short practice ride to get the feel of the flight, Carlino, a 10-year zipping veteran, was sporting a beaming smile and said, “Our biggest rule for the day is to have fun guys!” It’s hard not to have a blast when you ride across 2,700 feet of high-wire zip lines through and above scrub oak and pine in the arid climate of Jackson County—just outside Gold Hill, Oregon.
As our small troop of zippers, led by Fawkes, rode the practice run without a slip, she said, “OK—the easy part is done—now we zip above the canopy of trees and enjoy the views we were talking about earlier.