When winter commences its icy clampdown on the mountains, we hikers tend to relegate our hikes to the lower elevation foothills and the scenic Oregon coast. But even that has its drawbacks in bad weather.

So, when the weather is cold and rainy, what is a mileage-addicted hiker to do? Why, go hiking, of course!

Two weeks earlier, our hike at Cape Blanco had been cut short due to 40 mph winds driving rain like so many waterborne needles into our faces. Because of that sorry experience, Mrs. O'Neill declined to come with me on a subsequent foray to the coast, citing the forecasted rainstorm for that day. Getting her to accompany me was going to be quite the challenge.

I tried appealing to her appreciation of the outdoors: “The starfish are particularly colorful in a storm, I hear.” I tried lying: “The forecast called for sunny weather.” I even tried the repeated high-pitched whining that used to provide a modicum of success for my kids: “Pleeeze!”

All were to no avail, so stronger measures were called for: “I'm hiking all by myself. I could get attacked by rabid seals or I might step on a poisonous sea urchin. But, if you really cared about me ... ” Guilt can be such a powerful tool in the hands of a master manipulator. And that is how a surly Mrs. O'Neill and I arrived at the Coquille River's south jetty in Bandon under threatening storm clouds.

In what amounted to a minor miracle, the incessant rain encountered on the drive to Bandon pretty much stopped as we started walking and we would see no rain on the day. The tide was high and waves periodically chased us up the beach. The sea was churning and frothing, the roiling waves breaking spectacularly upon the many rock islands south of the river. Dark gray clouds overhead made for a spectacular, albeit gloomy day.

At Coquille Point it was hard to tell where the islands began and the point ended as there is more rock here than at an Ozzy Osbourne concert. As an aside, I think Ozzy Osbourne and the islands might be of the same age. At any rate, Coquille Point is on the frontline in the war between land and sea. I think the sea is winning that war because for millennia, the ocean's waves have pounded the islands and have carved caves and tunnels into the numerous islands and sea stacks. We observed the ocean pouring through one such cave in the marine equivalent of a colonoscopy prep for rock islands.

At a scenic Bandon Beach bay, a myriad of pointy rocks, stacks and islands make this beach a world class tourist attraction. Predictably, beach houses, hotels, and inns proliferate and crowd together on the cliffs overlooking the beach. Even on a blustery day, the beach had plenty of visitors to take in the beachside geology. Some of the islands have descriptive names such as Face Rock, Cat and Kittens Rocks, and Elephant Rock. I've added my own tags to some of the lesser rocks such as Lobster Claw, Flexing Bicep and Freddie Krueger's Finger.

At the south end of Bandon Beach lies Devils Kitchen, a collection of relatively mild-mannered rocks that in no way resemble any kitchen implements that might possibly be wielded by Lucifer herself. The houses, hotels and casual beachgoers end here and hikers can regain a sense of wild and pristine beach. Once past Haystack Rock (labeled Fish Rock, on some maps), the last of the large islands, our only company was that of the seagulls. The clouds, playfully coy, periodically thinned out and sunbeams broke through and danced upon the sea. The tide was retreating and the glistening shore reflected the moody skies.

At Johnson Creek, a wade across the creek was required. Suffering from a peculiar aversion to wet feet, Mrs. O'Neill hiked inland in a vain attempt to find a dry crossing. As she splashed across the stream, her mood turned from reluctantly cheerful to full-on unhappy. Unfortunately, there were two more wet fords at Crooked Creek and China Creek and her discontent ratcheted up with each crossing. After crossing China Creek, the open shoreline beckoned with the New River waiting for us, approximately two miles ahead.

I was fully prepared to continue on to the New River but had to turn back at this point. Just as I was performing the mental math, calculating mileage and estimated time of completion, Mrs. O'Neill tapped me on the shoulder, saying “If you really care about me...”

Wordlessly, I turned around and began walking back toward Bandon. Guilt can be such a powerful weapon in the hands of a master manipulator.

Richard O'Neill is a member of The Friends of the Umpqua Hiking Club. Club members make frequent hikes, usually within a couple hours drive of Roseburg. For information, see www.friendsoftheumpqua.org.

How to get there: From Winston, follow Highway 42 toward the coast. Just past Coquille, turn left on Highway 42 South toward Bandon. At Bandon, turn left at the lone signal light on Highway 101. Drive about half a mile and veer right into Bandon's Old Town. After several blocks the street ends. Turn right and, after one block, make a left onto First Street. Just after First Street curves and begins heading uphill, turn right on Jetty Road. Follow Jetty Road to the large parking lot at the end.