Al LePage’s hike along the Oregon Coast is over, and now he begins the next step of the journey: developing a plan to highlight the state’s historic trail.-World Photo by Alex Powers

With a five-year-old Vivitar camera bought at a Goodwill store and a journal in his backpack, historian Al LePage documented his 400-mile hike down the Oregon Coast with 1,400 photographs and 180 handwritten pages about “the eternal landscape.”

On Aug. 12, LePage ended his monthlong trek near Brookings, well on his way toward his goal of making this landscape a permanent Oregon Coast Trail. He hopes to work with the state and coastal residents to come up with a plan to highlight the historic trail by February, in time for Oregon’s sesquicentennial anniversary.

“Only 200 miles of the 400-mile coast line is beach,” LePage said.

LePage’s vision is for the trail to connect beaches already protected with properties that span between the beaches.

“I’m a man without a plan,” he said. “The idea is to develop a plan with stakeholders and landowners along the coast.”

LePage’s border-to-border walk was not an easy one. But it gave him time to think about his goal and overcome challenges, a primer, perhaps, for his push for a trail.

Local people may have seen him around North Bend on Aug. 2. The 54-year-old went through town and as far as Bastendorff Beach. The next day he walked from Sunset Beach to Shore Acres and over Arago Peak. It was difficult terrain. That night, when he arrived at Bullards Beach, he crawled behind a dune and saw what appeared to be coyote footprints. He crawled into a hollow where he envisioned an animal had slept the night before.

“I felt like an animal — in a good way,” LePage said. “I felt like I was at home, not just in that spot, but in the universe.”

Along the way he heard about bear and cougar sightings. He saw snakes, sea lions, bald eagles, other birds and a rat that nibbled one of his energy bars. He had to overcome fear when holding onto a rope, climbing down a beach trail.

“To my horror, there was poison oak all along the rope,” LePage said. “So, I’m going, ‘Oh my God.’ This is my worst fear realized.”

He escaped unscathed.

He stepped into what appeared to be quick sand. He built a raft to cross the swift Elk River from driftwood he dragged from the beach. He pulled the raft with his backpack on it, while a Colorado man he met watched from shore. Many times there were aches and pains, but they always passed.

Then there was the summer wind. Gusts reached 35-40 mph.

“It just sucks the energy right out of you,” LePage said.

For the most part, the 50-to 60-degree weather suited him. It was not until after his hike was over, when driving up to Portland in 100-plus heat, that LePage’s body broke down. Ironically, he ran into his doctor at Champoeg State Heritage Area. His doctor said he was exhausted and acclimating to the heat.

While walking, LePage found himself thinking a lot.

“You’re exploring not only the outer world, but what people find on these hikes is the inner journey is just as important. Sometimes you cry, and sometimes you laugh.”

LePage said mostly he cried.

But he continued on, enjoying rock formations south of Humbug Mountain. The 3-mile-high mountain is an “exotic landscape,” he said, which means it wasn’t originally attached. It drifted into the land and became part of it.

“The South Coast, with the rocky shoreline, lends itself to the, I would say, mystical experiences I had,” LePage said.

One particular night, his last at the beach, while looking at the moon setting over the horizon LePage began to feel melancholy about ending his adventure.

“I saw 32 shooting stars that night,” he said. “It was beautiful. I savored it.”

LePage stumbled upon a shell midden — a place where Indians lived and disposed of shells after eating mollusks. Later that day he met a Medford couple cooking mussels on the beach, using olive oil, lemon juice and white wine. They offered him a sampling.

“In a sense, it was a way for me to have communion with the Indians,” LePage said.

LePage felt most like an explorer. He felt like he knows how Lewis and Clark or Jedediah Smith must have felt.

“I really think the beauty of long distance hiking in areas that are remote sometimes, it allows you to create your own adventure,” he said. “With the exception of an occasional jet, for all practical purposes, time has stopped.”

It’s this beauty that LePage wants to save for future generations.

“I want to preserve those areas so people can continue to experience that eternity,” LePage said.