Despite their familiar star-shaped outline, starfish are anything but simple. They don’t have brains. They don’t have blood. They eat with their stomachs outside their bodies. Some can clone themselves. Others can live for decades or wipe out entire ecosystems.

Sea anemones dot the bottom like living flowers, their tentacles open and swaying underwater. When a wave splashes over the rocks and drains away, they shrink into tight, rubbery blobs, sealing themselves off from the air. It’s a simple motion, but it feels ancient — a survival trick perfected over millions of years.

The mid-1800s brought European-American settlers to the central Oregon coast. Recognizing the natural harbor of Yaquina Bay, they established Newport officially in 1882. Fishing quickly became a cornerstone of the local economy. Early settlers relied on small wooden boats to harvest salmon, halibut, cod, and shellfish, often launching directly from the sandy beaches or the rudimentary docks that dotted the bay.

The drive out to Cape Meares feels like a transition. The highway narrows, the forest thickens, and the air grows cooler and heavier with salt. Sitka spruce and hemlock line the road, their tops swaying gently as if whispering to one another. You instinctively lower the radio, where conversation drops off and everyone starts staring out the window.