Remember the brightly-colored bubble photo I shared back in January? It was right after I moved to the Oregon Coast and though I was smitten with the various hues I didn’t pause to consider their source. The iridescence reminded me of similar ones I noted a dozen years ago on the beach in Carpinteria, California. Those bubbles were the result of natural seepage of petroleum from an offshore oilfield (historically, the Chumash people gathered the oil and used it to seal their boats).

Well, fast forward six months to a talk I recently attended by Stewart T. Schultz. This guy wrote the book on the Oregon Coast, I mean that literally. In 1998 he wrote The Northwest Coast: A Natural History. An Oregon native, Stewart couldn’t find a comprehensive book that described the coastal region he loved, so he wrote one (as a grad student no less).

While explaining nutrient cycling in the near shore zone Stewart described the importance of diatoms. Diatoms may be small (considered microalgae) but they are mighty; producing roughly 20% of the world’s oxygen. Plus, they are a key nutrient source for all manner of sea life. Or as Stewart put it, “A clam is basically reconstituted diatoms.”

But what do diatoms have to do with my bubbles? Everything! The daily cycle of diatoms in the ocean is a delicate dance between buoyancy and gravity. Diatoms photosynthesize which means they need to be within range of sunlight. But diatoms are unicellular and the majority of them cannot move. Diatoms have a unique solution to this problem – mucus!

Diatoms secrete mucilage which helps them float up through the water column toward the surface. During the day, the power of crashing waves can whip up a froth of mucusy diatoms which comes ashore as a foam. Hence my bubbles.

But wait, there’s more. What is mucus known for (besides being kinda gross)? It’s sticky! And diatom mucilage is no different. Throughout the day grains of sand, stirred up by wave action, adhere to the mucilage. As sand accretes throughout the day, it weighs the diatom down and causes it to slowly sink to the bottom. Overnight, the diatom creates more mucilage so that by dawn it is ascending back up to the light for another productive burst of photosynthesis.

Amazing to think about the complex dynamics involved in the creation of those beautiful bubbles!

Bubbles of Diatoms, Lincoln City, Oregon 2018

Turns out the California Market Squid (Doryteuthis opalescens) is the source for both of my mystery objects. If you like calamari, this is your squid! Let me clarify, the female of the species is responsible for what has been washing ashore in great numbers.

Both sexes congregate together in spawning grounds along the continental shelf from Alaska down to Baja. The day after an “extended mating embrace” the female begins excreting fertilized eggs into a protective capsule. She can produce around 20 capsules, each with about 100 eggs. The capsule is attached to other capsules with a sticky substance. Multiple females will attach their capsules together creating large communal masses (some covering acres) in the nearshore sand.

What a tremendous amount of work – produce 2000 eggs and attach them to others all while avoiding predation and fighting the motion of the ocean. No wonder this is her final act as an adult squid! Which serves to remind me yet again of an important nature lesson, having kids can kill you.

After death, her body is nibbled away by fish and other ocean predators. Often the only thing that washes ashore is the gladius. This stiff structure made of chitin is also commonly called a squid pen. I heard that historically the pens from larger species were used as writing instruments, much like quills, hence the name.

I wonder what will wash ashore next…

Squid Egg Sac

Squid Egg Sac Clump

Squid Egg Sac Clumps

Squid Pen

Fresh Squid Pen

California Market Squid

Two weekends ago I spent the day at Cape Lookout State Park. I arrived early in the morning to catch low tide and enjoyed wandering the southern section of Netarts Spit. The ocean was gentle that day but signs of the ocean’s immense power surrounded me. The entire campground is only a few feet above sea level and large portions of it have eroded away in the past few years.

The state has reinforced sections with massive sand bags but even those cannot withstand the fierce winter storms. This past January, storms overtopped the spit and swept debris some 300′ into the picnic area. While damaging, that is nothing compared to the chaos visible at the south end of the spit. As the ground rises to meet the Cape Lookout headland the cliff face contains graphic evidence of destruction from the tsunami of 1700; trees twisted and encased in a layer of black soil (see photos below).

On January 26, 1700 an earthquake, rated around 9 on the Moment Magnitude Scale, struck in the Cascadia subduction zone along the Pacific Northwest Coast. The resulting tsunami not only overtook forests and carried debris far inland on the North American continent but it caused damage in Japan some 4800 miles away.

In a way it is a good thing that the tsunami reached Japan as it enabled geologists to pinpoint the exact date of the event. Native Americans living in the Pacific Northwest had oral histories testifying to the extent of the damage (entire villages inundated and destroyed) but these lacked the precision of a written record.

Dendrochronology helped narrow down the timeframe, as the last growing season of the massive trees was 1699, which put the event somewhere between October 1699 and February 1700. That information, cross-referenced with written accounts of a tsunami reaching Japanese shores, led researchers to the exact date of the earthquake.

The area is still active, with the Juan de Fuca plate sliding under the North American plate at a rate of roughly 2.5 inches each year. On the plus side, this action causes enough uplift to parts of Oregon and Washington that it counteracts the annual rise of sea level. Yay!

The downside is that this convergent plate boundary has geologists extremely worried. Based on previous intervals (of roughly 500 years) the region is due for a massive quake. If that occurs, all the sand bags in the world couldn’t protect Cape Lookout State Park. FEMA’s outlook for the region is dire, “Our operating assumption is that everything west of Interstate 5 will be toast.” Now there’s a cheery thought!

Fortunately, on the day I visited, Huecha Omeyocan, a group dedicated to honoring MesoAmerican rituals, held a ceremonial dance blessing the coast. Perhaps their efforts will ward off the Big One for a few hundred more years…

Cape Lookout Headland

Mighty Root Systems

Isopod

Gooseneck Barnacle with Extended Cirri

Limpets and Barnacles

Shore Crab, Green and Maroon

Common Periwinkles with Eggs

Rockweed

Sea Cave View

Evidence of Tsunami 01-26-1700

Uprooted Trees, Damage from 01-26-1700 Tsunami

Debris Flow from 01-26-1700 Tsunami

Huecha Omeyocan Blessing the Ocean

Huecha Omeyocan Dancers

I argued with myself as I drove through a downpour on my way to Yaquina Head Outstanding Natural Area – should I just turn around and concede the day to the weather? My stubborn streak won out and I’m so glad it did since the day turned out just lovely!

I last visited here in 2006 on a very foggy, windy day so it was a nice contrast to have a sunny and only lightly breezy day. I started the morning watching Peregrine Falcon parents feed breakfast to their two fledglings. Next up was a tour of the historic lighthouse (activated in 1874).

Nesting season was in full swing: cormorants gathered nest material, sparrows grabbed bugs to feed their offspring, Common Murres and Pigeon Guillemots sat on eggs, and several species banded together to chase off their mutual enemy; an immature Bald Eagle.

Low tide at Cobble Beach provided plenty of other sights: colorful flowers, a mated pair of Harlequin Ducks, Harbor Seals resting, bright Purple Sea Urchins, and an unexpected bit of art. All in all, an outstanding day!

Peregrine Falcon (mom with food)

Yaquina Head Lighthouse

Tour Guide in Period Dress

Oil Butts (their name, not mine)

Inside the Fresnel Lens

Spiral Staircase

Brandt’s Cormorant with nesting material

White-crowned Sparrow

Common Murre Eggshell

Chasing a Bald Eagle

View South

View North

White-crowned Sparrow with Bugs

White-crowned Sparrow with Bug

Summer on Yaquina Head

Twirly Vine Tendril

Dewy Flower

Fresh Spruce Cones

Yellow Monkeyflower

Storm Clouds

Cobble Beach

Harbor Seals Chillaxin’

Cormorant Photobomb

Purple Sea Urchin

Wavy Ocean Art

Harlequin Duck, F & M

Sketch on Drift Log

For instance, I learned that some species of sea stars can live 150 years. Wow! Ochre Sea Stars, the ones most common in Oregon’s nearshore tidepools, can live up to 40 years. Ochres primarily prey on California Mussels so when their population crashed due to sea star wasting syndrome a few years back there wasn’t a predator to control the mussels.

Thankfully, sea stars are rebounding along the Pacific Northwest Coast. However, some of the mussels are now too large for the sea stars to eat. This imbalance has led to a dramatic reduction in diversity in some tidepools since the large mollusks have dominated the available “anchor space”. A healthy, balanced tidepool is akin to old growth forest; its diverse habitats supporting a plethora of species.

Giant Green Anemones primarily owe their namesake color to a symbiotic relationship with photosynthetic algae. Did you know anemones can move? They appear to be permanently suctioned to the rock but nope, when they decide to move they let go and float away. Wild!

I think I’ll pursue a degree in lifelong learning…

Baby Starfish on California Mussel

Moonglow Anemone

Sixteen Sculpins Skulking

Coralline Algae

Polychaete Worm

Checkered Periwinkle (Littorina scutulata)

Splendid Iridescent Seaweed (Mazzaella splendens)

Splendid Iridescent Seaweed

Low Tide Scenery

Splendid Iridescent Seaweed

Moonglow Anemone (Anthopleura artemisia)

Ochre Sea Star Working on Opening a California Mussel

Giant Green Anemone Devouring a Dungeness Crab

Ochre Sea Stars and Giant Green Anemones

Giant Green Anemone

Black Leather Chiton (Katharina tunicata)

Thatched Barnacles

Ochre Sea Star Predating on California Mussel

Black Pina Algae

The weather was warm and sunny, perfect for a road trip, so I headed over to the Corvallis area for a little exploring. My first stop was the Jackson-Frazier Wetland. As I strolled the boardwalk I encountered a stalk of gorgeous, vibrant purple flowers. I wasn’t familiar with this plant so I was relieved when the handy interpretive sign provided me the name: Camas (Camassia quamash).

I knew Camas was important as an edible bulb (one that helped save the Lewis and Clark expedition from starvation in 1805) but I had no idea it was that beautiful, too! A preening Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay and a Common Yellowthroat kept me company at the wetland.

My next stop was the William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge. In all my travels this is my favorite NWR – it is very accessible with lots of trails that meander through a wide variety of habitats. Massive Oregon White Oak (Quercus garryana), Fuller’s Teasel (Dipsacus fullonum), Wild Oregon Iris (‎Iris tenax), and Elegant Star Tulip (Calochortus elegans) were standouts!

While it wasn’t the birdiest time of day I still enjoyed my afternoon. A brief bobcat sighting was exciting. I will definitely be back for another visit soon!

Camas Closeup

Camas

Preening Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay

Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay

Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay

Common Yellowthroat

Thimbleberry Flower

John Fiechter Garage

Oregon White Oak

Oregon Wild Iris

Cat’s Ear

California Quail

Bobcat

California Ground Squirrel

Eastern Cottontail

Brewer’s Blackbird

Fuller’s Teasel