"Beware Beach Logs"

by COASST Volunteer
Lauren Wentz-Middleton
Kalaloch Beach South

Any COASST Volunteer who surveys a log-strewn beach has seen them - the signs warning beach visitors of the potential dangers of so-called "beach logs" that can roll suddenly in high surf. A cartoon-like depiction of a person being tossed from a log punctuates the message.

My husband, Bob, and I pass one of these signs every time we descend the steps to the wide, sandy expanse of Kalaloch Beach on our monthly COASST surveys. We marvel at the number and size of the logs that cover the highest reaches of "our" beach, and we always make sure to search, safely, for birds among those logs on the return leg of our survey. It wasn't until October 2004, though, that we saw for ourselves just how those logs came to rest where they lay, and how real was the danger portended by the battered sign we passed on our way out to the beach.

The beach south of Kalaloch Lodge in Olympic National Park is very wide; at a low tide, it may be more than 100 m from our access point out to the surf. We usually start at the surf line, hike south for the kilometer or so to our turn-around point, then return along the mid-to-high beach, all the while searching for bird carcasses and stopping when necessary to collect data on the birds we find. On this particular October day, we set out under overcast skies, walking our usual path.

Our first find of the day was a set of tern wings, perhaps 25 m from the leading edge of the surf. Bob, the data collector, took the measurements and reported them to me. After I recorded the data, I placed our chalkboard and ruler next to the wings and prepared to take a photo - standard COASST procedure, of course. I was just about to press the shutter button when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shallow wave approaching faster than we had expected. I grabbed the backpack and our container full of cable ties just in time to skitter up the beach and avoid wet feet, but we lost our chalkboard and ruler in the surf, and our as-yet-unphotographed tern wings were carried at least 50 m toward the high beach, coming to rest in between two logs. I finally took the photo, and we set out again on our survey.

Not long after that, Bob and I both observed that waves seemed to be coming in higher and faster than we could recall from any of our previous walks at Kalaloch. We were between tides, with the tide coming in gradually, but there still seemed to be something different about the surf that day. Our walk followed a zig-zag route as we attempted to keep our feet dry (yes, we were wearing waterproof boots, but they're no longer waterproof when water fills them from the top!) but we eventually found ourselves walking nearer and nearer the swath of logs covering the higher parts of the beach. Quite unexpectedly, a surge of water raced up the beach toward us. By the time we could gauge its speed and depth, we were forced into making a split-second decision: stop and let the wave hit us or clamber onto one of the logs and - we thought - stay out of trouble.

Bob is much more nimble than I, so he quickly jumped up onto a very large, partially buried log to avoid the wave. No problem. Meanwhile, being neither nimble nor near a very large log, I managed to hook one leg over a medium-sized, horizontal trunk and hang on.

Luckily, the log on which I took refuge only shook violently as the wave swirled around it. I feared it might roll out from under me or, worse, over me in that instant. My right leg got soaked, over the boot-tops and under the rainpants up to mid-thigh, and I could feel the pull of the undertow as the wave subsided. That cartoon-like image of a person flying off a beach log suddenly flashed through my mind - I could have been that person! Bob extended a hand to help me stand back up, and we both paused to collect ourselves before moving on.

We were half a kilometer in either direction from a good exit point from the beach, so we decided to continue moving south - faster now - toward our turn-around point at the trailhead for Beach 2. When we arrived at that point, we paused and looked out across the water. A storm loomed on the horizon, no doubt the source of the high, powerful surf, and, for the first time since we started surveying Kalaloch Beach, we watched massive logs being tossed like toothpicks in the waves. A few logs that we had used as distance markers in the past because they appeared to be permanently anchored in the sand were now being rearranged by the surf. It didn't take long for us to decide that any attempt to return to our starting point would put us in real danger.

We clambered, wet-footed and shaking, up the trail and out to Highway 101. From there, we walked along the highway back to our car, a little worse for the wear but safe. As I climbed into the car, I caught a glimpse of that weather-beaten gray sign we'd walked past so many times before. This time, that warning, "Beach Logs Can Be Dangerous," finally hit home with me! Here's hoping that our fellow COASSTers will heed that warning, too.

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