Photographing the Oregon Coast: The North

by Local Photographer Tim Truby

Last month’s PV Pulse piece on my landscape photography journey, covered how I became a full time photog with highlights of photo journeys I’ve done in the Southwest, Iceland, Italy – plus a few images from my South Bay portfolios. And I thought I’d follow that up with something on my most recent photo journey, through the seascapes of the Pacific Northwest.

My main focus is always landscape travel photos. And I find that going deep into the landscapes of a place, for a week or a month, allows me to do my best work. So my travels are basically the kind of location shooting you’re do on one of the group photo tours. Going to various photo spots, being there when the light is good, working the location as long as it takes. But because it’s just me, these trips are also about being out in nature and staying in my creative zone.

So for three weeks last summer, the goal was to shoot the truly iconic places in the Washington and Oregon – a place I’d never been. And maybe walk away with a handful of seascapes good enough to hang in an LA gallery show or (even better) someone’s living room.

This was August, when the country was just getting its head around a pandemic. With the free time, I had done lots of research on the best landscape photo sites. Of course, you never know what you’ll find when shooting a new location. You’re at the mercy of light and tide and the State of Oregon. It’s a leap of faith. So I flew up to SeaTac, tossed my gear into a rental and headed west towards the coast.

Upper Oregon

The coastal Pacific Northwest is different from SoCal. Really different. The state of Oregon has a third the population of metro LA. Coastal Oregon is far less densely populated – like if the city of Torrance was spread along 360 miles of Hwy 101.

For the most part, it’s as mountainous, forested and undeveloped as any 300 miles of coastline in the Lower 48. Oregon also has some of the nicest (and least known) seascapes anywhere. I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed.

Wreck of the Peter Iredale, Warrenton, Oregon

After spending 5 days shooting along the Washington coast, first Oregon site I photographed was the Wreck of the Peter Iredale, a four-masted ship that ran aground in 1906. It attempted to sail up the Columbia River. But the Pacific NW is known for its winter storms and the crew lost control in the silty river delta.

The Iredale wreck is only 20 minutes north of Cannon Beach, where I was staying. So I drove up 101 on my first evening. When I arrived, the steel hull was being used as a jungle gym by local kids. Climbing on top of and through the rusty hull. I thought about joining them (for a moment). The Peter Iredale didn’t mind and one young lady pointed out the way up. Uh huh. … But miraculously everyone walked away for a sec and I got my shots – without looking like an idjit.

Reflections in Light, Cannon Beach
That night, I was at a B&B at Cannon Beach, an upscale beach community 50 miles from Portland. The coast around Cannon is fairly developed by Oregon standards with a blend of BnBs, restaurants, hotels, brew pubs, shops, and a gorgeous beach. Yet once you’re a mile east, you’re in dense forest and coastal mountains.

Later that first evening, I wandered past the hotels down to the beach for a look. It’s a big beach, relatively flat, plenty of room for folks to spread out. There’s a string of well-used firepits at the high end of the sand and you can smell the burning spruce. The standing water around Haystack Rock shimmered in the twilight.

This is a beach that’s part of the community. And I noticed how important the sunset ritual is to the locals here, as it is for us here in the South Bay. I pulled out my camera and went with the flow.

At low tide the beach seems to stretch into the sunset. That sheet of wave water was as flat and reflective as a mirror. So I composed the shot using Haystack Rock, balancing its mass against the colors of sunset. The final touch was the beachcombers. Cannon Beach is big enough that people can feel it’s theirs alone – even on a warm August evening. And you can almost read their story even from a distance.

The next day, I decided to work my way down the coast a bit. Going south on 101 means leaving the beach cities behind and losing yourself in the real coastal experience. The dense forest and underpopulated coast are pretty common below Cannon. The undeveloped nature of the coast became obvious once I pulled over at the Silver Point Overlook.

Mid-morning, Silver Point Overlook

This little overlook photo got me seeing the real Oregon coast. One set of rocky cliffs after the next, each deeply wooded. Most beaches up here are generously wide and made of a fine ground silt that comes down from the Columbia River delta. This overlook’s just a mile below Cannon. Yet there’s no one between here and Hug Point (towards the top of the frame) except a couple walking their dog and a solitary woman.

This simple beach image resonates for me. The sense of bigness. It’s an element about landscape work that I’ve loved ever since I saw Hudson River School painting. Those early 1800s American painters created huge landscapes of Yosemite and the Sierras that showed humans as a small part of something of true grandeur. And their approach got the country to see nature as awe-inspiring, sacred. The Oregon Coast, with its mix of seascape and wooded cliffs, evokes a similar sense of expansiveness – and of our place in this wide universe.

Hug Point as history. When northern Oregon was settled, there was no coastal road. The forest was too dense and mountainous, the central valley too far away. So folks took a stage coach or wagon up the coastal beaches instead. But at Hug Point, there in the distance, the cliffs push so far into the beach that at high tide you need to hug the point to make it through.

The Cliffs at Kiwanda, Pacific City

After my second night in Cannon City, I did one final walk up to the old town and picked up some trip necessities, water, breakfast pastry, chocolate. Next stop, Pacific City.

Pacific isn’t much of a city, not with a thousand residents. It's got motels, a handful or restaurants, one brew pub, little grocery store, no pharmacy, two cannabis dispensaries. (Almost all these little tourist towns have at least one green cross on the main drag.) The one thing no other coastal town has though is Cape Kiwanda.

I stayed in this little city for 2 nights purely because of Cape Kiwanda Natural Area. That sandstone peninsula had to be the creative focus. Sandstone bluffs are rare along Oregon’s rocky coast. They’ve been shaped by the ocean for ages into abstract sculptures which adds a different color palette and textures.

I explored Kiwanda like a kid that first day – going from one overlook to the next. Up the huge sand dune just north of the beach. Over the boundary rope and along the top of the cliff. Then down to a little bay where the Millennials were hanging out. As it got late, I looked around for a high overlook to capture it all.

I saw a section of cliffs further back on the peninsula that looked promising. And from on top, you looked out over the ocean, the waves — and the peninsula spread out like a slumbering giant. That was the shot. I used. From there I noticed the wind driving waves into the cliff wall. I used the thrust of the cliffs as a leading line with Haystack Rock in the distance (Pacific City has their own Haystack Rock). At top left and center, you can see sunset worshippers perched on the cliffs.

I used my 16-35mm lens to capture the vastness of it. I also had the tripod out. But on that evening a long exposure felt too static. I used a faster shutter speed and a bit of HDR to capture the wind and rolling waves.

A Secret Beach, Cape Kiwanda

The next day I ran into the motel owner. We chatted about the area and he told me about some if his favorite places to visit. So I spent a couple hours hiking the tidal grasslands around Whalen Island.

Then it was back to Cape Kiwanda for one final sunset shoot. I started off where I’d shot the previous evening and explored the northern end of the promontory -- past the guide ropes, out along the cliffs. It was a surprising view at evening light. So I spent some time enjoying the moment.

The thing that drew me in was how that Kiwanda cliff was catching the Golden Hour sun. That oblique light showing the warm nuances of sandstone. Then behind that framing is a deserted beach. The Maxfield Parrish clouds float above.

This photograph is a twist on a foreground-background composition – having such a clear separation between fore and background. Here it works because it makes the misty beach seem more remote, unobtainable.

Post. I changed almost nothing when I touched up the Raw file. Made sure the cliff textures felt like sandstone rather than granite, added a touch of warmth to the beach and forest. Just touching the cliff and beach separately encourages the mind’s eye to wander deeper into the frame and explore that distant place.

Central Coast

After Kiwanda, you get into the central coast of Oregon. Harbor towns like Newport and Florence. Devils Punchbowl, a collapsed sea cave, is worth a visit. Yaquina Head Lighthouse is the tallest on the coast and it’s a cool spot. … Seal Rock was a particularly nice discovery.

A Seal Rock Afternoon

The Seal Rock rec area is heavy on sea stacks, like much of the coast. And the place gets a lot of use from beach lovers and weddings. In fact, I shot a wedding party purely by chance while I was there. Then I took the trail up to a perfect lookout. In fact, I shot a wedding party purely by chance the afternoon I was there.

The Seal Rock photo came together easily. The sea stacks lead the eye into the frame. Including a bit of the cliff edge in the foreground provided a sense of height. And the seagulls wandered into frame right on cue.

Hecete Head and Thor’s Well

That evening I checked in at Yachats, another tiny harbor town -- and my home base while I worked Thor’s Well – the location I most looked forward to shooting. This tidal pool looks like a 20 foot deep well. It’s really a collapsed sea cave forged out of volcanic rock. And when the waves come at high tide, they seem to get sucked into the well and then flow out down below as the waves recede.

The whole experience feels a bit magical – and dangerous. Like many tidal pool areas, one big wave can drag someone all over the rocks. And as you watch the wave action, you can’t help wonder what would happen if you got dragged down the Well.

I wasn’t expecting a decent shot that first night, it was low tide. The classic Thor’s Well shot would be at high tide – and at sunset. I was three days away from having that. I took a few shots of the well just to see what would work. But when you want a photograph that gets noticed, every element has to be right.

So in my two days at Yachats, I spent my time exploring Cape Perpetua and Hecete Head Lighthouse, 11 miles farther south on 101.

Twilight, Heceta Head Lighthouse

In this part of Oregon, the coastal mountains push right up to the Pacific with cliffs similar to Big Sur. And having a lighthouse in that location is quite cool. Here’s Heceta Head from the south.

Lighthouses can be cool photo studies. And all three lighthouses here in the South Bay have their charms. Point Fermin with the generous gardens and the historical house. Angels Gate has the harbor and breakwater. Point Vicente is right there on the cliffs. With Heceta it’s all about location.

There’s a pull-off to Heceta on 101. The trail from the parking area takes you past a Victorian cottage all lined with flowers where the lighthouse keeper lived.

I’m not big on shooting a lighthouse just because it’s a lighthouse. They can be an easy cliché of beach life. I look for a visual story as well.

To me, the Heceta “story” is about context: the rugged coastline, that dangerous looking island, a protecting lighthouse. Luckily the light head has a hill behind it. Climb up there and all the elements fall into place. Plus the big Fresnel light is so close you can almost touch it.

I was surprised, when I posted this on Instagram, at how many folks from Oregon responded, sharing stories of how Heceta Head had been a part of their lives. That contact with nature is how landscape art works its magic.

Sunset, Thor’s Well

After my two days at Yachats, Oregon, I drove a hundred miles to my next stop, Bandon Beach. It’s a great photo spot with a classic old town, an expansive beach, sea stacks galore. Once I checked in, I spent the evening wandering around the seascapes and the almost deserted beach. But I had unfinished business at Thor’s Well.

The idea of 1 ½ hours of driving up and back to Thor’s Well was not appealing, especially since I didn’t know how the light would be. But I realized that if you don’t go for it, you’ll regret it later. The next afternoon, I tossed my gear in the SUV and drove north.

I got there a bit before sunset and made my way through the slick tidal pools. Found a perch high enough to see inside the caldron. I wanted to evoke the flow of water into the well without turning the ocean all smooth. So I shot at 1/40 sec. hand held and being so close to the pit, went wide angle. I wasn’t sure I had anything good yet.

Once the sun set, I made my way back to the car, had a quick snack and headed back down to Bandon Beach and the southern coast.

Next month: Photographing Southern Oregon

Tim Truby Bio

Tim grew up an Army Brat. They lived all over the US plus England and Taiwan. So he fell into travel photography early on. He came to the Beach Cities in ’99. Back then, the South Bay was already a hotbed for landscape photography. So he wandered into Pauls Photo and spent a year learn technical camera skills, composition, lighting, Lightroom, etc.

He’s written two travel photography books, Photographing Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks and Photographing Arches, Canyonlands and Capitol Reef National Parks that were well reviewed by the Utah press and Outdoor Photography Magazine. He’s also been a professional writer and travel blogger for many years.

Tim was a First Place Winner at the OC Fair Photography Contest in 2019. He’s been in various juried and gallery shows around the South Bay. Contact him at 310-480-7237 if you’re considering one of Tim’s photographs for home or office.

Pacific Northwest Portfolio: https://www.tim-truby-photography.com/seascapes-pacific-northwest

Artist web site: www.tim-truby-photography.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/timtruby/

Email: timtruby@gmail.com