My wife and I took a quick weekend trip flying from Colorado to Oregon to visit the coast. One of the places we stayed at was Cannon Beach, home of the iconic Haystack Rock. Often, when visiting the Oregon coast, it is a good idea to be prepared for rain and wind, but that day, we couldn’t have asked for better weather. We had a nice romantic walk down the beach and watched the sunset over Haystack Rock.
While photographing the sunset, a guy went tromping through the shallow surf right in front of me, completely oblivious to the fact that I was trying to take a picture, or he pretended to be oblivious. As soon as he walked past me, he then took a sharp 90-degree turn and set up his tripod and camera a few feet away. I didn’t think much of it other than a sarcastic inner voice of “Thanks, dude.”
My wife and I moved a little further down and stood in the surf and watched the sunset as the waves rolled over our feet. It was a cool spring evening, so it actually felt warmer to stand in the water than up further on the dry sand. The Oregon coast is not known for warm ocean waters; it’s typically very cold, especially at that time of the year. I looked over at the guy with his camera to see how he was doing with his photo session. He seemed visibly annoyed that a father and son had set up shop playing in the water, right in his shot. That’s just how it goes in public spaces; everyone is trying to enjoy themselves, some people have spatial awareness, and some don’t. Somehow, carma takes care of it in one way or another.
Geology of Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach
Rising 235 feet from the beach, born from the Columbia River Flood Basalts, Haystack Rock is composed almost entirely of basalt, a dense, dark volcanic rock formed from lava that erupted roughly 15 to 17 million years ago during the Miocene epoch. The Columbia River Flood Basalts rank among the largest volcanic episodes in Earth’s history, with hundreds of individual lava flows erupting from a series of fissures in what is now eastern Oregon and Washington.
The flows were large in scale. Individual eruptions could release thousands of cubic miles of molten rock, moving like slow rivers across the landscape at temperatures exceeding 1,100°C. Over time, these lavas followed ancestral river valleys westward, ultimately pouring into the Pacific Ocean, cooling instantly, fracturing into the dense basalt formations we see preserved along the coast today. A single lava flow could travel over 300 miles, reaching the sea.
Look closely at Haystack Rock’s face, and you’ll notice a distinctive geometric cracking pattern called columnar jointing. As the thick basalt lava cooled and contracted, it cracked inward at many points simultaneously, producing the characteristic five- and six-sided columns typical of cooling flood basalt.
These fractures provided pathways for seawater to infiltrate the rock over millions of years, accelerating erosion in the softer surrounding material while the densest basalt cores remain.
Haystack Rock is not a volcanic plug or a reef. It is an erosional remnant, a sea stack. The coastline here was once a continuous cliff face of basalt and softer sedimentary rock. Over millions of years, wave energy, tidal action, and chemical weathering dismantled everything around it. The softer eroded and washed away. What remains is the rock that outlasted its surroundings.
Sea stacks like Haystack Rock are, in a very literal sense, defined by what isn’t there anymore. The ocean is an extraordinarily patient sculptor, and the Oregon coast is its gallery.
It was great to relax, refresh, and recharge the creative energy. I’m off to Denver to build some custom furniture.
I’m the owner of Benham Design Concepts, a Colorado-based Custom Furniture design and fabrication studio. I design and build custom furniture that resembles works of art, using materials such as wood, glass, stone, and metals. The furniture I produce serves not only as practical items but also as works of art, infusing character and style into any space.
