At the Visitor's Center, we asked about the trail to Thor’s Well, since it strangely wasn’t on the map. A ranger explained that a photographer took a picture and called a collapsed underwater cave “Thor’s Well” and posted it on the Internet, so many people have lately been asking, “Where’s Thor’s Well?” She also said it’s on the trail with Spouting Horn, and that they’re very active today. It was only a half mile down a paved trail, and the trail conveniently started right next to the Visitor’s Center.
We set foot on the trail and
delightful, fascinating plants immediately surrounded us. These included very
tall trees—evergreens and bare-branched white trees, particularly covered with
moss and with stark, stubby branches, jutting out. Bushes alongside the trail,
some with blackberries and some with little white flowers that looked like
bells, or little round red berries (I assumed poisonous), and vines with pale
green curlicues.
The sun truly came out, and the
sky was bright blue by the time we got down to the rocks in the ocean—but I’m
getting ahead of myself.
The trail to the ocean slanted
downward at first, and we walked through a tunnel under Highway 101. In the
tunnel, I yodeled like a ghost because of the echo. We came out from under the
tunnel, and the path veered to the right and left, with a sign pointing out
what was in which direction. Straight ahead was a fence, and beyond it was a
cliff overlooking an inlet of the ocean. Wet sand with driftwood and some
rocks, rocky cliffs on either side of that. Blue, blue water beyond.
We kept following the path—even
the bushes on either side of the path were delightful, magical, like something
out of a fantasy world (and yes, I’ll create a fantasy world that incorporates
Cape Perpetua).
We gradually descended the left
path leading to Spouting Horn. We came to an information board with images and
explanations of some of the creatures we might see, such as starfish and
anemones and peculiar but beautiful slugs that have white and red “hairs”
sticking out all over. We kept walking, got to the end of the trail, and
stepped down onto sand and dark rocks.
I didn’t hesitate to walk out
onto the bumpy, rocky seaside. Pools contained small rocks, shells (mostly
broken) and tiny dark brown tadpoles. I thought the tadpoles were delightful. I
kept walking and absorbing the breathtaking scenery: the cliffs, the rocks, the
ocean and the powerful, rolling waves coming toward us and crashing on the
rocks. It was steady and continual, like breathing in and breathing out.
We headed back up the path and
crossed a little wooden bridge and took the path toward Devil’s Churn and Thor’s
Well. Delightful plants still surrounded the path, including bright yellow
flowers and tiny daisies and flowers that were like one inch round pompoms. We
descended the sand onto the rocks. The ocean met with rows of inland rocky
areas, where the ocean waves rolled in and then leaped up into the air as they
hit the big rocks. The waves spouted up high before backing away and starting
the process all over again.
We came to a long, dramatic
crevice in the dark rocks, where the ocean waves came splashing in and drifted
back.
Some of the rocks were tricky
to walk on; my phobia about falling made me overly cautious.
We saw a long crevice full of
bright green anemones, but no starfish. I collected a few shells that weren’t
broken. When I reached down to pick up one shell in shallow water, it moved
slightly and held fast to the sand. I hastily let go of it. Probably a crab.
As did other visitors, we
walked up close to the Spouting Horn and Thor’s Well and watched, mesmerized. I could have stayed
there for days—though I was aware of my cat Cheetah at home alone, when Audrey mentioned
that her cats were anxiously waiting.
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