Jul 13, 2025 10 min read Oregon Coast Trail

Hiking The Oregon Coast Trail, Day 10 Part 2: One Hundred Miles!

I finally learn the truth about those railroad tracks to Tillamook! Plus: falling in love with Oceanside and my thoughts about reaching 100 miles hiked on the Oregon Coast Trail.

Hopefully the second half of today's hike will be less eventful, but I'm really missing my iPod already. On the bright side, the next 9 miles should be the best of both worlds: equal stretches of beautiful beach hiking and coastal forest. The plan is to take a short detour to the Cape Meares lighthouse, descend down to Oceanside and around Netarts Bay, finally landing at Cape Lookout State Park campground for a couple nights.

Mere steps after ducking under the caution tape that hastily closes rough beach trail I just came from, a small parking lot leads to a road which leads to the Cape Meares lighthouse. It's a short, uneventful walk and I'm grateful for that!

Cape Meares lighthouse and the viewpoints nearby.

As I'm leaning against the railing admiring the lighthouse, a man in his late 50s walks up and says hello. "Hey fella, where're you going," he asks in a gruff but friendly voice. (It's weird being called "fella" at 49 years old.)

"The California border, eventually," I answer.

Then I decide to volunteer more information, because people are understandably curious when they see a giant, burnt orange, 55L backpack strapped around your body.

"I'm hiking the Oregon Coast Trail. Just hiked into Tillamook yesterday along the tracks," I say.

"Holy shit, seriously? You're a lucky son of a gun!" He exclaims.

I nod. "Yeah, it was pretty sketchy! Some of those sections are in bad shape."

He lets out a laugh, then says something that instantly propels my jaw to the ground and my mind reeling: "Of course they are! That tourist railroad hasn't been running since the early 2000s!"

This is the perfect time to read this if you haven't yet! Lots of context...

He proceeds to tell me about his past life hauling timber all along the Oregon coast. He tells me about the Great Coastal Gale of 2007 that absolutely hammered Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. He tells me about the extensive damage done to the very railway I walked, and to the surrounding areas.

He tells me it's been considered a "ghost railroad" south of Garibaldi for nearly two decades.

I feel validated, but that validation comes with a frightening realization. I was lucky. I was in real danger out there. It was not imagined. Perhaps it was amplified by fears, but the danger was genuine. And that validation instantly morphs into frustration and disappointment in myself for only doing cursory research. I skimmed enough information to justify my decision, not to make an informed choice about my route.

The lessons on this trail are as frequent as the gifts.

By the way, the gentleman in question helps run Garibaldi Charter. His boat is the Norwester. And his dream is to someday embark on a solo sailing adventure to Tahiti. I hope he carves out the opportunity to chase that dream.

After sitting with my thoughts for awhile, I leave Cape Meares and put my shoes to the pavement for a few miles of road walking. And then I come to Oceanside, starving and exhausted.

My first impression of Oceanside is a weathered, handmade wooden street sign. It's halfway swallowed by brambles and ferns, and the street names – Violet and Chinook – are painted in fading white letters.

I turn towards the ocean and walk down a narrow gravel road with shingled beach houses. There are yards with patchy grass, but no ostentatious attempts to get your attention. No noise, no bright colors, no politically-charged signs. No egotistical attempts to stand out or best the neighbors.

It's charming to say the least. It feels like the right place to let time slow down, at least within your own headspace.

With daylight to spare, I decide to hunt down somewhere to inhale copious amounts of hopefully delicious food. My daily tuna, cheese, and sriracha lunch wraps are getting boring.

There are two open cafes on either side of Pacific Avenue, and for some reason I choose Current Cafe. Maybe because it's next to a surf and beach clothing shop. Maybe because they have two of my favorite things stenciled on the window: Fish tacos and shakes.

Wendy greets me with a warm smile and some conversation about the trail. She senses my eagerness to share my story, and she seems to enjoy listening. I learn that Wendy is yet another Oregon transplant who moved from California's bay area, and she seems ridiculously happy where she's landed. It gushes out in her enthusiasm; it shines in her speech and in the way she interacts with customers. She's undoubtedly found her happy place.

I order a trio of beer-battered fish tacos and a dirty chai, which Wendy upsizes for free saying "it looks like you need it!"

Some of the best fish tacos I've had the pleasure of eating. Oceanside, Oregon.

On the way out – and after another lengthy conversation about nature, hiking, coastal real estate, and karma, Wendy gives me a free fluffernutter cookie she baked earlier that morning. And then their chef ambles over and gives me a small steelhead trout appetizer that he made during some downtime in the kitchen. He's describing it like the best food that has ever existed, and I believe him!

The coffee bar section of Current Cafe. I love this place.

Oceanside is so damn charming. Small and quiet and inviting. In the span of one hour I experienced so much kindness and warmth and stellar food and genuinely enticing conversation. In the span of one hour, I decide I have to return here someday. Maybe permanently.

A striking scene as I walked south from Oceanside to Netarts.

Oceanside's beach is spectacular, but eventually I'm back on the road and walking along Netart's Bay. I look down at my Garmin and realize the milestone is imminent. I've hiked 99 miles. In one mile I'll hit 100. I have no idea how to properly reflect on this, but I'll try...

Every single mile has been so aggressively beautiful. It's been a unending feast for my eyes and a healing salve for my spirit. It makes me incredibly emotional. It makes me incredibly grateful. It's not just the accomplishment, it's that after 100 miles I still have an unquenchable fervor for it. I want more! I want do this until I die!

Every single day is a compressed adventure where so much transpires and so much stunning scenery graces your eyes that it feels like a week. It's the best kind of exhausting.

On a section of Netarts Bay streaked with soft ridges left behind by retreating water, I reach 100 miles hiked on the Oregon Coast Trail. It's a spongy, rippled expanse of silt and sand, punctuated by green algae that clings to half-buried driftwood.

It's not the most dramatic or awe-inspiring section I've seen, but it's certainly special.

I scramble down off the road and carve "100" into the soft ground with a huge piece of driftwood. I let the tears come.

Then I eat that steelhead trout appetizer that the chef at Current Cafe offered me for the road. And yes, it is the most delicious thing that's ever existed. Until tomorrow comes around...