We fled when we heard the National Weather Service issue a warning of a big storm with hurricane-force winds.
#Hecta head oregon weather series
Years after that trip to Heceta Head, my wife and I were nearly stranded in Manzanita, Oregon, when a series of storms unloaded almost a foot of tropical moisture and closed roads for several days. In my own experience, I've noticed that the number of foul weather enthusiasts is steadily rising. According to one survey, Oregon and Washington residents ranked storm watching among their five favorite coastal recreation activities. Each year, our ever-growing GoreTex–clad tribe gathers at the edge of the Pacific, from Vancouver Island down to Mendocino, California, to watch the storms crash in. It's not new-the tradition of grabbing the camera and heading to land's end to witness the Northwest's wild winter weather-but it is trending. As we stepped outside, cold, hard droplets pelted our faces and hands and feet and arms. Sideways rain slammed the tower, wind gusts sent shivers through the walls, and metallic echoes reverberated around us. The plates were cleared and, tingling with anticipation, we ascended the lighthouse's spiral staircase. The next morning, over house-made crab cakes and banana bread, the only topic of conversation was when the storm would peak.
Every single room at Heceta Lighthouse Bed & Breakfast-a former coastal beacon-had been booked by fellow wild-weather nuts. One blustery evening in January 1999, I trekked down the central Oregon Coast to watch a spectacularly awful storm blow in.