Special to The ARS Sojourner
January / February 2007
Although much of the trail simply follows the beach, with the ocean roaring on your right, it also climbs over projecting capes, edges along rocky cliffs, and winds around bays and estuaries.
For some stretches, about 70 miles total, there is no trail as such, and you’re forced to walk on the narrow shoulder of Highway 101. Crossing major rivers involved using highway bridges except for one time when I was ferried across in a dinghy.
Rather than backpacking and being strapped to a heavy load, I stayed in motels or car camped and used a bus, a taxi, or my thumb to get to and from trailheads. Even so, on some days a round trip hike was unavoidable and in the afternoon I heard the ocean roaring on my left.
I didn’t operate the first few days as I settled into my hike. But on the fifth day the trail went over 1,600-foot Neahkahnie Mountain and I was determined to activate the summit. From a beautiful beach popular with surfers, the trail switchbacked up a sunny slope. Around nearly every bend I carefully stepped over a basking garter snake.
At the top I had lunch and then set up on a sharp ridge. I had a spectacular view to the south with a steep drop-off of several hundred feet. I extended my pole, attached a 26 foot piece of hook-up wire, and propped up the pole with rocks. I connected the wire directly to the KX1 and ran out a 17-foot counterpoise. As usual, the little rig’s built-in tuner quickly found a match.
Encouraged by the loud signals on 20-meters, I used the rig’s memory keyer to call CQ. I was putting out about 1.4 watts with the self-contained lithium batteries. I can’t say that someone called on my first try, but eventually Herb, KO6Z, in Bonita, California, came back to me. By my reckoning Herb was in the best direction for my antenna’s take-off. We managed a couple of go-arounds before QSB forced us to say 73.
I’ve been a ham for almost 50 years, but I still get a thrill out of every QSO and the magic of wireless communication. That’s even more true when I’m sitting on top of a mountain and using slightly more than a single watt.
A few days later I hiked down the Bayocean Spit, a QTH I have used before for portable operation. Located between the ocean and Tillamook Bay, this peninsula allows you to shoot eastward across several miles of saltwater. I had timed my arrival to correspond with the July Spartan Sprint.
I set up with my back against some rocks about 10 feet from the bay. In the shallow water nearby herons probed for their dinner. This time I decided to configure my pole and wire as a quarter-wave vertical and ran out two radials, each about a foot off the ground. At the start of the Sprint I could hear lots of signals and knew I would have a busy evening.
It was then that my antenna came under attack. At the top where I attached the wire I had inadvertently left a piece of electrical tape flapping in the wind. Thinking this was something to eat, a gull made several passes before it caught hold and tugged so hard the pole fell over. Unfortunately I was in the middle of a QSO with N7OJ/P in Utah.
Despite the gull, I went on to make 25 QSOs on 20-meters before the band died out. I couldn’t hear anything on 40-meters so I packed up and headed for the campground. I never got a chance to complete that Utah QSO.
In the days ahead I operated on a couple of capes where I thought I might get out. Cascade Head was such a place. It belongs to the Nature Conservancy and is a refuge for the endangered Oregon silverspot butterfly. I found a log to sit on, well away from any likely butterfly habitat, and lashed my pole to a convenient post.
The view while operating was great, but although a VE1 heard me calling and almost pulled me through, I didn’t make any QSOs. Of course here my antenna had the benefit of neither height nor saltwater.
I had no more success at Cape Perpetua. On top is a basalt shelter built by the CCC in 1934. A sign says the view extends 37 miles out to sea, but the day I was there it was so foggy I could only hear the Pacific 800 feet below. I operated inside the shelter for a while hoping for a westward QSO, maybe a KH6, but I didn’t raise anyone.
As I got down to southern Oregon I looked forward to operating in the Coos Bay area where once again I would shoot east across saltwater. After hiking 15 miles down a beach and more miles inland to the bay, I was ready to sit down and do a little operating. Again I set up a quarter wave vertical. I managed to raise Ron, KØTC, in Minnesota and later Mike, W7LPV, in Arizona.
We congratulated each other on our good S-7 signal strength that lasted several exchanges. All the time I was looking out over the sparkling bay and the long green bridge that spans it.
On the last day of my hike I waded across the Winchuk River and walked a few paces down the beach into W6-land. Altogether I had made 56 QSOs in 19 states and provinces, all on 20-meters. I know it took good ears to work me, and those who did received a special QSL in thanks.
Now that I’ve walked the length of Oregon along its coast, one of these summers I’d like to do it all over again in the Cascade Range along the Pacific Crest Trail. You can be sure I’ll be packing along my KX1.
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Bill Vanderheide, N7OU, an experienced outdoorsman and QRP operator, lives in Portland, OR