beach — A family of five sharing simple, minimalist living and Pacific Northwest adventuring

When our camping trip was rained out and morphed into a beachside getaway, we discovered so many hidden gems along Oregon’s coastline that I’m eager to share with y’all.

The Pacific Northwest coast is by far my favorite beach I’ve visited in the United States. As Southern natives, we our first love was Destin, Florida, for its powdery white sand and clear turquoise water, but the heat and humidity of the Gulf Coast are bullies for a fair-skinned and fair-weather family. And the few times I’ve visited Myrtle Beach on the east coast, I got so blistered I couldn’t put on clothes and was resigned to stare at the sliver of beach I could see from the angle of my condo balcony for most of our stay.

The Gulf Coast is like the stereotypical chipper blonde cheerleader of high school—peppy and bright with a bubbly personality, though maybe a little shallow and, for an introvert, tolerable in limited amounts. (I’m personifying here and mean no offense.) But if the Gulf is the pep squad captain, the Pacific Coast is that dark and mysterious brunette who sits in the corner of the library in her combat boots and blunt cut reading Tolstoy. Her beauty isn’t as obvious but just as alluring, and her aloofness is intimidating. You know she’s smart, probably more so than you, and she projects a sense of danger and secrecy and depth that draws you in. She’s breathtaking but not as inviting, and as you get to know her, she seems even more inaccessible, like you’ll never discover all there is to her but you’d commit to die trying.

On a flatter note, I like that I can forego the dreaded bathing suit at the Pacific. There is no scantily clad sunbathing here; no lathering up wriggling sand-peppered preschoolers every 30 minutes. The cloud cover is a welcome friend for these gingers, and regular clothes with waterproof Chacos are completely appropriate. (Though I do have those signature sandal sunburn lines on my pale feet. Should have worn sunscreen.)

These are a few destinations along the Pacific Coast that make our list of must-sees:

1. Sisters Rock, OR. This hiking area is right off Pacific Highway 101, a seemingly lone rock jutting out of the sea in front of a generous parking area; it would be easy to miss the prime hiking trail leading to this landmark. After about a 10-minute walk through a narrow path cutting through local vegetation dotted with vibrant wildflowers, the path opens up to an expanse of rocky terrain that leads to the shoreline on your left and right or a cave up ahead where you can watch the tide rush in. It almost feels like a foggy wasteland, driftwood piled on rocks below hazy cliffs. Like some forgotten Scottish highlands, you’ll see turkey buzzards looming overhead, looking for carrion and carnage. It’s mysterious and a little eery, but in an absolutely appealing way.

2. Meyers Beach, OR. This little hotspot off PCH 101 offers a brisk downhill walk and a brief climb over rock piles down to the beach. On this coastline, you’ll see a splattering of rock formations jutting out of the ocean that are prime climbing spots when the tide is low. I perched atop one and watch my kids play tag with the tide. (Just be respectful of the barnacles that make their homes on the surfaces of these rocks.) The sand beach here is expansive and smoother with fewer rocks, though closer to the cliff leading to the highway you’ll find a driftwood jungle gym amidst hot-spring-like tide pools and a waterfall that lends its power to a rushing rockbed creek flowing into the ocean. It’s one of nature’s perfect playgrounds.

One caveat to these coastal destinations: there are no public restrooms. So if you, say, grab an almond milk latte to sip on while you drive down the coast and find you have to go as soon as you’ve arrived, don’t expect to find a row of Honey Buckets somewhere off to the side. You’ll have one of two options: hold it like it’s a quarter between your knees, or duck down somewhere in the rock piles and hope no one sees. This was a little easier for our son; when we got to the bottom of the rock piles and our daughter decided that was the time to announce she needed to go number one, the Mr. rounded his arms into the shape of a toilet seat and…well, this is just the honest journalism you won’t find elsewhere, folks. You’re welcome. (And he’s getting a big Father’s Day gift this weekend, believe you me.)

3. Gold Beach, OR. Gold Beach’s name is a nod to the historic Gold Rush, and some believe you can find remnant treasures if you look hard enough. Though we didn’t go gold mining, we did comb the beach for agates, which is another treasure this beach teases about. We collected handfuls of quartz and other glittery stones, but I’m not sure we ever really learned what an agate actually was. Still, it was a childlike fun to search for cool and unique rocks with our kids, someone yelling every few minutes, “Hey, look what I found!” This was a beautiful stretch of stony beach with a plethora of little rushing rivers flowing into the ocean. And if you visit Gold Beach, you have to try the Spanish omelette at the Indian Creek Café. If you’re of the gluten-free kind, the pineapple and Canadian bacon gluten-free pizza at Sunny’s Family Pizza was the best, flaky, wheat-free pizza crust I’ve ever tasted. It’s extra delicious paired with a Hallmark movie and delivered straight to your hotel room after a long day of driving.

We had been planning for weeks. The camp reservation at Humbug Mountain State Park in southern coastal Oregon was booked; we’d even bought a new tent and sleeping bags this year to add to our camping supplies. An upgrade from our 8-person tent that the Mr. and I bought before we even had kids, our new 10-person tent had a room divider and blackout walls. The one thing it wasn’t, as we’d find out the hard way, was waterproof.

The night before we headed out, we checked the weather one more time. For weeks, the forecast predicted the perfect camping weather—around 60 degrees and sunny. But this time, we learned it was going to rain for the next three days, for 3/4 of our trip! At the last minute, we put in a pickup order at a local sporting goods store for a pop-up canopy with a zip-up netting and decided we would keep our plans but bring a few more games to play under cover from the rain.

We arrived at our campsight, set up fairly quickly, and decided to have sandwiches for dinner. Right after we built a fire for s’mores, the downpour announced its arrival by putting out our fire and soaking our campsight. After three returns home to fetch forgotten items and several hours of driving and wound up kids and water everywhere, I told Kelley, “I just want to go to bed and be done with the day.” So, we got ready for bed and started to get in our sleeping bags when I noticed water dripping on my inflatable pillow. We looked around and our hearts sank as we discovered water was coming in at the bottom seams of the tent and forming pools all around our sleeping gear. Defeated, Kelley scurried to throw our sleeping mats and bags back in the car while I hunted down a motel with a vacancy. We pulled into our motel six miles down the road around 9:45 the first night; we never even got to sleep in our tent.

Sometimes, things just don’t go according to plan. It doesn’t matter how much in advance you investigate conditions and prepare, or how much gear you have—there are going to be times when you just have to abort mission. As we settled in our beds in our motel room from the 1950s (managed by, as it turned out, a fellow Birmingham, Alabama native!), our middle son complained because he didn’t understand why God didn’t help us. He’d kept saying as we frantically packed up our tent, “We can just ask God for help; He says He’ll help us.” To him, sleeping in a dry motel rather than our tent wasn’t the kind of help he expected.

We had a family meeting that night and discussed that when plans don’t work out, oftentimes it’s either God’s protection over our lives from something we may never even find out about, or it’s because He knows what we actually need and has something better in mind for us. In this case, it might have been the former, but it was definitely the latter.

If we hadn’t gotten rained out, we would never have decided to drive down the coast to the redwoods of California. We wouldn’t have had the unexpected pleasure of hiking through the Lady Bird Johnson grove in the rain, encountering massive trees that took our breath away with their sheer size. We wouldn’t have seen herds of elk grazing by the mountain roadside on Kelley’s birthday. We definitely wouldn’t have had beachfront views from our hotel room balcony in Gold Beach, nor would I have shared about Jesus and homeschool while combing the beach with a local young mom while our kids hunted for agates. There were little surprises everywhere, unexpected blessings surfaced out of what seemed to be a major hiccup in our plans.

Camping is fun, but it’s also a lot of work. Everything is set up and torn down repeatedly. It takes work to keep food stored at the right temp in the cooler. Activities are constantly interrupted by trips to and from the bathroom with young kids. You’re doing all your own cooking with portable cookware and then hand washing everything with a limited water supply. It’s exhausting. And we were already exhausted.

Our Heavenly Father knows what we need before we do. He knew that although we chose camping because it’s economical, what we needed was rest. So He graciously provided a way for us to experience a relaxing beachside getaway, retreating to the comfort of a warm, dry room after meandering in nature every day. Our campground was nice and cozy, but the expanse of the beach with its sparkling quartz rocks, craggy rock landforms, rushing creek beds, and driftwood jungle gyms were the perfect playground for a family of energetic explorers.

We discovered Sisters Rock with its foggy floral paths, rocky beaches, and hidden cave. We spent hours collecting agates and quartz on the shoreline of Gold Beach and played in a rushing, waterfall-powered creek on Meyers Beach, which we had all to ourselves. The kids imagined forts at the foot of giant redwoods in a forest that smelled of rain and moss. We had a picnic beachside and stood at the foot of enormous Paul Bunyan and Babe statues somewhere in Northern California. We counted elk antlers in a herd grazing roadside on our way to eat pizza delivery and watch the Hallmark channel from our beachfront room. (We were really roughing it, yeah?) We drifted to a dead sleep with the lullaby of crashing waves. We took the scenic route home and listened to the guttural bellows of sea lions piled on top of one another in a dark, smelly cave and admired them perched on jagged cliffs beside a turquoise shore.

All in all, we’re grateful our plans were foiled. We came home refreshed and with a renewed sense of peace instead of exhausted from living outdoors for four days. I would say it was a trip of a lifetime, but honestly, and more accurately, it was just another week living in beautiful, picture-esque Oregon.

Must-sees along the southern Oregon coast.

When camping goes south.