Each winter the central Oregon Coast transforms under the power of the king tides, the highest tides of the year. Between Florence and Yachats, storm-watching meets legend where ghost stories linger at Heceta Head and gray whales pass Cape Perpetua’s cliffs. This guide shares how to experience the tides safely, where to stay and eat, and the stories that give this stretch of coastline its spirit.

In this guide, you’ll find some of the best fall hikes across Oregon, chosen for their beauty, history, and quiet charm. October was once called the “resting month” by early settlers, when trails softened after summer dust and the forests came alive again. Indigenous peoples of the region followed these same seasonal paths long before statehood, moving with the salmon and the change in weather.

From the basalt canyons near Silver Falls to the alpine spray of Tumalo and Salt Creek Falls, each hike tells a story of how Oregon was shaped by water and time.

Each winter the Oregon Coast transforms into a stage for the ocean’s most powerful performance : the king tides. These extreme high tides arrive when the sun, moon, and Earth align, pushing water to its limits. Beaches vanish, waves leap cliffs, and the horizon feels alive with motion.

In this King Tides Guide you’ll find safe, accessible viewpoints from Astoria to Brookings, oceanfront stays where you can storm-watch from a balcony, restaurants that serve dinner with surf in your ears, and indoor escapes for stormy days. You’ll also learn how to stay safe at low tide and how to join the Oregon King Tides Project, a statewide effort where your photos help scientists track rising seas and changing shorelines.

The ocean is never the same twice. This season’s tides will leave their mark on the coast and on anyone who comes to witness them. Watch with awe, tread with care, and let the sea remind you how to rise.

At 32, my life had unraveled. Divorce papers were drawn. Bankruptcy left me broke and shaken. For the first time, I was living apart from my child. I didn’t know it then, but I was also entering the prodromal phase of schizophrenia. My mind was slipping in ways no one could name.

One night, desperate for a way forward, I typed “tiny house” into Craigslist. That search changed everything. I found a cedar box tucked beneath Douglas Firs, six miles inland from the Oregon Coast. The farm had blueberry bushes, crumbling barns, and a stream that ran toward Siletz Bay. It smelled of cedar and rain. I thought it might be my chance to start over.

What followed was a season of storms, loneliness, and survival. Nights of fear as trucks revved outside in the rain. Days of wonder with elk in the headlights, golden leaves near Salem, and waves roaring at Cape Meares. I dyed my hair Ariel red, worked in a coastal pub, and began to write again. In that cedar box, I filled notebooks with Oregon’s coastlines — fragments that would one day grow into Wild Oregon Girl.

The tiny house did not save me. But it gave me something greater: the courage to face myself, the spark to begin again, and the roots of the life I live now. My marriage survived. My words survived. And through it all, Oregon held me.

Come with me as I return to a city I once desperately wanted to call home but never did. At eighteen I dreamed of moving to Seattle for theater school, of stepping into an arts scene that shimmered with possibility. Life carried me elsewhere, and that dream still lingers in the depths of the most hidden doors of my heart.

Now, twenty years later, I walk back through the city to see how it has changed and how I have too. I dive into the tourist landmarks. I wander Capitol Hill where I nearly studied art and theater. I eat sushi and marvel at the Space Needle. Along the way I learn how the futures we plan do not always unfold. Sometimes that is the hidden gift.

This is a story of time travel. It is a journey to heal the parts of us we leave behind. It is a reminder to move forward with gratitude, with strength, and with the quiet magic that waits when we finally open the door.

In 2020 the sky went dark at noon. Ash fell like snow, and towns along the Santiam Pass vanished overnight. Out of the fire came not just loss, but a surge of generosity and care.

This post is both a reflection and a guide. You’ll find practical steps to prepare your home and family, what to do during an evacuation, and how to recover after. Together, we can face the fires ahead with resilience, readiness, and care for one another.

Local, fresh, iconic- here are 21 places to find chowder, oysters, Mac and cheese, shakes, and more on the Oregon Coast.