After a long haul, they see the lighthouse.

Byline: John Rezell The Register-Guard

Crossing over the top of yet another ridge, pausing to marvel at yet another stunning view of the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean and its jagged Oregon Coast sprawled out far, far below us, I couldn't help but slip into my obsessive optimist alter ego.

"Not much farther," I offered with a pinch of forced enthusiasm.

Listen, it isn't often I have to resort to my cheerleader essence to spur us on when hiking, but when we sauntered out of Washburne State Park along the Valley Trail, planning to hook up with the Heceta Head Lighthouse Trail, we weren't searching for an epic outing.

In fact, having spent most of the previous day enjoying a leisurely, yet long, stroll on the beach, listening to the waves crash and the rocks crunch beneath our feet, we celebrated the wonder of the coast. The flat coast. And how it differs from many of our hikes in the Cascades and Coastal ranges.

Whether it be the vast rock piles, or the sandy stretches, walking along the coast tends to steal a little more energy from each step than you seem to realize - until the next day.

And now, on that next day, after taking our sweet time on the flat 1.5 miles of the Valley Trail, we suddenly faced climb after climb after climb on the 1.5-mile Heceta Head Lighthouse Trail.

Our real goal had been to lounge on the beach, maybe at Hobbit Beach, which was an option at the crossroads after we crossed Highway 101 having completed the Valley Trail section.

Hobbit to the right, Heceta Head to the left. Debbie charged forward to the left without discussion. Now she was paying the price.

Don't get me wrong, we enjoy a hardy hike now and then. It just wasn't what we were looking for on this day, and, even though the beauty of the coast is its endless ups and downs, this just wasn't part of our mind-set as we left camp.

The views did pump us up and at nearly perfect intervals. Reality, though, mocked us. We wanted to be at sea level, down there, where the beachcombers looked like ants at a picnic.

Besides, looking ahead, this trail would, I assume, lead us to the lighthouse. We've toured the lighthouse before, so if we decided to hike down the ridge to the beach, it would mean hiking back up again, before connecting with this monster natural roller coaster.

We've seen the view from the top of the lighthouse, so really, my oxygen-deprived mind wondered, how would we react to this anticlimactic conclusion - assuming we eventually do get there.

We skirted the edge of a ridge jutting out, exposed to the Pacific, and I thought for certain the lighthouse had to be there, here, finally. But no, the trail twisted around for yet another round, heading down again before, no doubt, heading up.

The trail did offer a little diversion, up to the right. Another breather viewpoint, I thought, as we hiked up to where the trail ended.

Just as we neared the end, something strange slipped into view from beneath us. With a sea of ocean blue as a backdrop, popping up through the green of the forest, some unusually familiar red. Red?

Ah, yes, red as in the brightly painted roof of Heceta Head Lighthouse, carved into the edge of the ridge below us. Now there's a sight you don't see every day. And, of course, never without more than a little effort.

Contact John Rezell at www.eugenemeraz.com.