Fall in love with the coast
By Michael Edwards
For the TODAY
Ten miles south of the Tillamook Creamery, just north of Highway 101, flows Munson Falls, the highest waterfall on the Oregon Coast. Only a quarter mile from the dirt parking lot, the 319-foot falls splits the emerald box canyon in two. Though the three-tiered falls headlines the park’s marquee, the forest here also shelters some of Oregon’s oldest and tallest trees.
Oregon Coast hikers are often encapsulated in water-saturated green thickets. Salmonberry and elderberry conspire with tightly packed forest groves to obscure the immensity of individual trees. In contrast, visitors to Munson Falls have unobstructed views of the ancient trees growing on the steep north facing slope of the canyon. A few hundred yards into the hike, a 260-foot- tall Sitka spruce, the second tallest tree of its kind on Earth, dominates the skyline. The spruce isn’t marked but you’ll know it’s the big one when you see it. Above the giant spruce, the roots of ancient cedars hold the canyon’s soil in place.
A binocular scan of the great cedars reveals a crown wrecked by the onslaught of thousands of winter storms. A rotting ghost gray spire stands above its elaborate candelabra crown. By studying the complexity of their crowns, botanists estimate that the oldest red-cedars are more than a thousand years old. Just to put the tree's longevity into perspective, some of the oldest Pacific Northwest cedars were already hundreds of years old when William the Conqueror invaded England in 1066. Though they have bent the time curve in their favor, cedars haven’t eliminated the clock entirely.
Tangled branches, splintered western hemlocks, fragrant sprays and brilliant red-orange heartwood marks the detonation zone of an ancient cedar. For generations the native people of the Pacific Northwest Coast have transformed downed cedars like this one into enormous ocean-going canoes. One of these ornate canoes is displayed in the American Museum of Natural History in New York. The canoe is 64 feet long, eight feet wide and seven feet high at the bow.
A scan through the looking glass brings into focus an enormous agarikon fungus growing from the side of the sheared-off trunk of a centuries-old hemlock. As the canyon leading to the fall’s viewpoint narrows, moss-draped big leaf maples and spine-armored devil’s club line the creek bed. A “Trail Closed” sign marks the spot where a landslide obliterated the path closest to the base of the waterfall. The park’s department has no immediate plan to repair this section of trail.
Oregon State Parks faces a $22 million budget shortfall. Approximately one third of the park’s budget is funded through camper user fees and because the campsites are closed due to COVID-19, those fees are no longer a source of revenue. Since June, 47 full time parks workers have been laid off and of the 415 seasonal positions authorized by the state budget, only 77 of those positions have been filled.
Along with the deferred trail maintenance, the quarter-mile of dirt road leading to the parking area is leapfrogged with “car eating” potholes, so drive slowly — your muffler will thank you. Garbage cans are also nowhere to be found in the park so bring a paper bag and help leave Munson Falls cleaner than you found it.
Before heading home, scan the heavily treed south facing slope just above the picnic area for remnants of early logging history.
More than one hundred years ago, an axe wielding logger cut a notch into an old cedar. After the groove was notched into the trunk, the logger inserted a wooden plank into the groove. The plank elevated the logger above the wide base of the tree and along with his partner standing on a similar plank on the other side of the tree, the two coordinated the cut of their crosscut saw into the trunk. That tree’s notched gray stump is now a salal nursery and a damp hiding place for rough-skinned newts and Douglas squirrels. If you linger beyond sundown, pay no mind to the rhythmic chopping echoing through the canyon. The hard-working ghosts are tough and coarse but are ultimately harmless.
Munson Falls is an accessible half-mile round trip hike that will bring you within view and earshot of a stunning waterfall. The hike can be completed in less than 45 minutes, however if you are looking to decompress from the hustle and bustle of the cheese curd sample line at the creamery (when it reopens) or are looking for a temporary retreat from the anxiety riddled summer of 2020, allow your children to slow the family’s pace to a banana slug’s crawl, breath, then breath some more and be present.
Oregon is still here.