Yaquina Head

The headland is named for the Yaquina people, a tribe of the Yakonan family who lived along Yaquina Bay just to the south before the reservation era. Their name endures all across this stretch of coast, on the bay, the head, and the lighthouse.

The Yaquina Head Lighthouse was first lit on the evening of August 20, 1873, when keeper Fayette Crosby climbed the 114 steps and set flame to a wick fed by lard oil. At 93 feet it is the tallest lighthouse in Oregon. Its beam shines through a first-order Fresnel lens made in Paris in 1868 and shipped halfway around the world, and the tower itself was raised from something like 370,000 bricks, its base walls more than five feet thick. Keepers tended the light by hand until it was automated in 1966.

There is a long-told story that the lighthouse was meant for Cape Foulweather, a few miles up the coast, and that the building materials were landed at the wrong headland by mistake. The tidier truth is that the light was originally designated the Cape Foulweather light before it took the name of the head it actually stands on. Either way, it remains a favorite piece of local lore.

For decades a basalt quarry chewed into the headland here. When it closed, the pit was reclaimed and reshaped in the early 1990s into Quarry Cove, an accessible tidepool area, so an old industrial scar became one of the easiest places on the coast to come face to face with a sea star.

Yaquina Head is built of basalt, the same dark volcanic rock that armors much of the Oregon Coast, poured out in ancient lava flows and left standing as the softer ground around it eroded away into bays. The offshore islands and sea stacks are the hard remnants of that headland, slowly being cut off by the waves.

Below the lighthouse, a staircase drops to Cobble Beach, where sand gives way to countless rounded black basalt stones. As each wave pulls back it drags the cobbles over one another, and the whole beach clacks and rattles, one of the strangest and most wonderful sounds on the coast.

The rocks just offshore hold one of the largest seabird colonies in Oregon. In spring and summer, tens of thousands of common murres, black-and-white seabirds that stand about like little penguins, pack shoulder to shoulder onto Colony Rock to lay their eggs and raise their chicks.

Among them, a patient watcher can pick out tufted puffins with their bright orange bills wheeling past, pigeon guillemots tucked into the cliffs of Smuggler’s Cove, and pelagic cormorants low on their nests. Bring binoculars, because the show is constant.

Below the birds, harbor seals haul out on the rocks to rest, and offshore the gray whales pass by, sometimes close enough to spot from the headland, with some lingering to feed near shore through the summer. At low tide the pools at Cobble Beach and Quarry Cove fill with orange and purple sea stars, green anemones, urchins, and hermit crabs.

Spring is one of the best times to come, as the murres return by the tens of thousands and the northbound gray whales stream past, with the migration peaking around late March.

Summer keeps the colony busy with chicks and brings the calmest water for tidepooling at the lowest daytime tides, though it is also the busiest season on the headland.

Fall quiets down as the birds disperse back out to sea, leaving crisp, clear days and long views up and down the coast.

Winter is storm-watching weather, when big swells explode against the rocks and the southbound gray whales pass through, thickest around late December and early January. Dress for wind and rain.

The closest Boutel™ stays, so you can turn this stop into an overnight. Each is an independently owned, editorially selected place to stay.