Sleeping in a Yurt by the Wild Wintry Sea

I awoke to a deafening boom in the night accompanied by a bright flash of light, which caused me to sit bolt upright. A winter storm wailed around our snug little camping yurt by the ocean, sending rain pelting and blowing sideways against the clear dome skylight. I could almost make out the dark shapes of Sitka spruce branches dancing wildly in the dark above us. All the while, my little family and our friends were safe and warm within the round walls of this canvas shelter.

This is January at the ocean. The rugged, rocky Oregon coast between Florence and Yachats with it’s high cliffs, stunted patches of salaal, spruce forests sculpted in sweeping curves by the wind, and wild waves both beautiful and terrible, seems perhaps an unusual choice for a family camping trip. Yet, it is a perfect invigorating reprieve from the short, dark, rainy winter days that seem to be spent more and more indoors throughout the holidays and the beginning of the new year.

I often welcome the onset of winter as a time to curl up in my cave, enjoying the stores of the harvest while focusing inward and undertaking projects long sitting untouched during the busy days of summer and fall. I light glowing candles, drink hot tea, and look out the windows at the cold, wet weather outdoors. I certainly get out to do the chores, get from place to place, and hopefully out on walks and day excursions when weather and time permit amidst the holiday preparations and activities, but by mid-January, I and my family are downright stir crazy. This is where yurts play a critical role in my winter well-being. I do not really see myself wanting to take my children out sleeping in a tent in January. I have done this plenty of times in my life before children, but being cold and wet with them, without the ability to dry out for more than the duration of a several hour hike is beyond my level of grit. In my youth I often slept out in the back of my pickup truck in the snow with a campfire and hot red wine for warmth, or backpacked in sleeting rain. A friend and I once hiked to the beach in a winter storm where I had only my two-man backpacking tent between myself and the tempest, and he only his sleeping bag as he braved a large rope net hammock suspended some 8 feet off the ground. What I have learned since, is that wet miserable children make wet miserable parents. However, we are a family made up of people who thrive on being in the outdoors. Yurt camping solves this dilemma and adds a level of comfort to camping that makes it feel like a luxurious treat. For around 30 dollars, we rent a yurt in a coastal state park 2-3 times during the winter season and spend our days out in the brisk, sometimes drenching weather, knowing we will dry out and be quite warm at night. This to me is worth every penny. Sometimes we go with friends, as a yurt can be shared cozily by two families to economize the trip even further and foster some good connecting time with fellow appreciators of Nature. We hike through old growth Sitka spruce forests, play in the sand by little rills running off the hillsides, build driftwood forts, collect rocks and shells, and get our senses filled by the delights of the sea. We see bald eagels, ravens, elk, and sea lions. These experiences recharge us and are carried with us through the rest of the winter as we anticipate the spring.