Oregon Coast III

Trip Date: October 13, 2019

This was the third consecutive trip up the coast for us. We started 2 years back with a stay at Jedediah Smith State Park at the northern edge of California, then the following year we explored from the border to Bandon on the Coquille River. This year, we wanted to go back to Bandon and explore up to about Florence, potentially setting up one more Oregon Coast trip that ends up in Astoria, the site where the Lewis and Clark Expedition ended on the West Coast in 1806, making it the oldest American community West of the Rockies. It is named for John Jacob Astor, the New York aristocrat who owned The Pacific Fur Company, a subsidiary of the American Fur Company, was created to begin fur trading in the Oregon Country, but Astoria we’ll have to wait until next time.

We drove straight through from Carmichael to Bandon and stayed at the Bandon Inn, a great place set atop a hill overlooking Old Town and the harbor. The young guy that checked Kristen in was really nice and helpful, and really helped set the tone for our stay. We got a corner room on the top/third floor with outstanding views, a nice little deck, and a very quiet setting. We had been getting little bits and pieces of the 49ers game against the Rams but the reception was poor and very spotty, so it had been a while since we had an update. We even got a few minutes of the 49ers announcers Gregg Papa and Tim Ryan. The town didn’t seem to be broadcasting the game, so we scurried upstairs to watch the game on the TV. They were showing the freakin Dallas game on the one channel carrying a game, so plan B was the bars.

Fortunately, the hotel had a nice walking path down the hill to town, and just about the closest building was a sports bar. Oh, the simple pleasures. After making sure one of the numerous TV’s had the Niners on, we ordered some drinks and settled into a table that doubled as a Shuffleboard table. I had a local porter and K had a coconut/pineapple/rum drink. We got razzed about K’s Niners shirt when we came in, but we had 2 tables of Niners fans around us, and although we didn’t interact much during the game, it felt good inside. Once the victory was in hand about midway through the 4^th quarter, we ordered another round. There was much rejoicing.

I asked the waiter where he would recommend we eat and he mentioned a couple possibilities including Edgewaters. When he left a lady came over and highly recommended Edgewaters and we had a nice conversation. When the game ended, a guy came up and hugged us both in celebration of the Niners victory. We had a few laughs before he left. It felt really good to be surrounded by friendly people. We waived to a couple other folks as they filed out after the game. It was a great stop, and a great way to begin our trip and our short stay in Bandon.

It was a little after 4:00 and I thought about the really cool shoe store in town, just down the block, that we went to last year and K bought her cool leather sandals. I had just thrown out my Sorel Caribou boots I bought in Missoula Montana in 1984. Yes, 1984. They lasted 35 years! Nothing made these days lasts 35 years – not houses, cars, trains, nothing! Anyway, I needed winter boots, especially with the new property, so we went into the Cobbler’s Bench in the old Masonic Temple building and looked around. K thought it might have been the same guy working there from last year that we had such a good time with and shared quite a few laughs. It may have been, and the shop dog was there too. I saw a very cool pair of boots and just decided to go for it, so I got me some cool new winter boots.

The path back up the hill to the Inn just about started at the shop, so we headed back to the room to enjoy the view, unpack, and rest for a bit. K made reservations at “Edgewaters” restaurant and we walked back down the hill to the restaurant. We were greeted warmly and taken upstairs to a small dining room. The lady took us to a table in the middle of the room, so I asked about all the empty window tables. She said they were all reserved, but that this was the best one left. I do believe it was the only one left, but nonetheless, it was a high table, and we did look out above the heads of the rest of the other patrons. Two of the walls were all glass, so we quickly settled in and ordered drinks. The bar had the Houston-Yankees game on TV too so we had a great set up. I ordered crab cakes as I was thinking of mom a lot, but unfortunately, they were not very good. Just as I was saying to Kristen they weren’t very good, the waitress asked how they were and I said “good”. Pathetic. I didn’t want to get into it or cause a fuss, so I wasn’t honest, but I wish I had been; nice but honest.

The rest of the food was pretty good. The wedge salad was excellent and the burger was OK, but splitting the salad and burger was plenty of food for us. The night was real pleasant and we enjoyed our walk back up the hill to our room. We both slept well, despite the Yankees victory.

The morning was beautiful and we sat outside on the front patio to have our little continental breakfast at the hotel. It was just enough to get us going. We shopped at Ray’s Food Place on the way out of town before driving the 25 miles to Sunset Bay State Park where we would camp for a few nights. Ray’s had an amazing butcher counter and I found myself returning several times to look over their stuff. I settled for a fresh Coho Salmon steak, 3 coulotte steaks, and a few Japanese style (teriyaki and sesame seed) beef jerky strips, and 2 six packs of local beer, an “Irish Style” red ale and a Cascadian dark ale made by Pelican Brewing out of Tillamook, Oregon. We knew the weather was supposed to deteriorate over our stay, but so far, the weather was fantastic. We again had failed to buy an Oregon Benchmark or DeLorme book map, so we were flying by the seat of our pants, relying on my memory of the roads from past Googly map studies and infrequent glances to our phones when we had a connection, which wasn’t often.

So, you can imagine, it wasn’t long before we were off the beaten path and saying out loud at the same time, “Pavement ends…?” And so it did. We had turned way too early off 101 North onto Seven Devils Road, headed to Seven Devils State Recreation Area instead of staying on 101 until E. Beaver Hill Road, which then becomes Seven Devils Road, after, the dirt part that drops way down the ravine to the SRA. Oh well, quite the scenic route it was. Fortunately, there isn’t much at the Seven Devils SRA to see, because we didn’t stop to check it out, being a tad less patient and more intent at getting to our destination, which was unfortunate since we were there, we should have just mellowed and checked it out. The detour ended up costing us all of about a half hour, so no big deal.

Nonetheless, we got back on pavement, skirted the town of Charleston, and headed back out of town a few miles SouthWest to the campground. As we came down the road to the park, it appeared like a city park with a huge day-use parking lot, volleyball and basketball courts, but I was soon relieved once we pulled into the campground. For one, no ranger or “Host” on guard. On the contrary, somebody would have been helpful to communicate some basic information. Nonetheless, we decided just do what was best for us and move right in to our site that we had reserved, rather than waiting until check-in time, or making sure it was ready/OK. I don’t know, maybe asking too much or assuming too little.

Despite my being excited to see the site, having spent a considerable amount of time on Googly and talking to a ranger before making the reservation, we were instantly displeased with our site. It was tucked behind a hill to protect us from the wind and weather off the coast, and it did face south to get maximum sun and warmth, but it was really small and narrow, and with a trailer and RV on either side, I felt like the last of the toothpaste getting squeezed out of the tube. We took a stroll around the 2 loops that remained open, and found the best site just 2 spots down, and a couple others that would have been better, but when we finally tracked down the “Hosts”, they said the ranger would have to make those changes or approve our move, so we just stayed put, and began to unload.

We seemed to be traveling light, and/or with so much in containers, once they are out of the truck, it seems done. Two barrels of firewood out, and our new stove and our new sleeping pads and new bag all set up in the old shitty worthless REI tent, and we were good. It was still only about noon, so we headed out to the beach on this gorgeous day to take advantage of the weather before we lost it towards the end of the week. There was a nice clean bathroom out by the basketball court with running water. After a pit stop, we were out in the sun on the beach on a magnificent bay. This was nice.

K was feeling stiff from the drive and a different bed, so she plopped herself down on the wide sandy beach and stretched out in the sun. I was attracted to Big Creek that flowed out of the redwoods, oaks, and maples into the ocean on the south end of the Bay. I spent an hour or so taking pictures, rock hopping, and trying some video of the ocean water pushing up the creek bed with the bigger waves, and then receding back into the surf. It was quite mesmerizing, but it was time to explore the area a little.

We drove up the hill to the South out to Shore Acres State Park and Cape Arago State Park. I only knew they were different parks from the Googly research I had done prior to the trip as there were no signs or indications you had left one and entered another. It seemed like they couldn’t pick just one name so gave the area all 3. Now that I think about it, we did drive down the road to another entrance station for Shore Acres, but we were enamored with the views out over the ocean and the bark of the sea lions from the cliffs up top, so we turned around and didn’t check that park out. We headed back to the turnouts along the road to see what everyone was looking at.

The first overlook wasn’t too impressive although it offered a view of Cape Arago Lighthouse and Gregory Point, which was most impressive. A well used trail seemed to head off out towards the bluff. We could hear all this sea lion barking so we wanted to try to get a better view of that so we headed further up the road. The next turnout was Simpson Reef Overlook, but it had a ton of cars and people and it sounded like the barking was not coming from here, so back in the rig and the last mile or so to the end of the road at Cape Arago and Drake Point (It is believed English privateer and explorer Sir Francis Drake anchored in the south cove of Cape Arago in June 1579).

We got out and stretched our legs, exploring the various tables and viewpoints, and while a spectacular “End of the World” type setting, we still were not near the sea lions. We took the opportunity to get rid of some garbage and the packaging from the stove, pads, and sleeping bags, and returned to Simpson Reef Overlook. The place had cleared out so we went right out to the railing and here they were; the source of all the racket. I went back to the truck to get my camera and binoculars, while a park volunteer was setting up his telescope for us to check them out. It was awesome to see so much wildlife, and hear them so loud, lounging on the sandy beaches and up on the rocks, playing in the surf, literally frolicking in the waves, and splashing about. It was super cool.

The volunteer let us look through the telescope and showed K how to take a picture with her cell phone through it, but it didn’t seem to work too well. He said this is a major breeding and pupping areas for Steller sea lion, harbor seal, California sea lion, and elephant seals. It is the largest and among the richest rocky intertidal habitats in the state with a rich subtidal reef habitat including kelp beds with both Nereocystis and Macrocystis (giant kelp, the largest such bed in the state). It includes three small seabird colony sites, including one used by the threatened brown pelican, and is a gray whale feeding area. Some people were seeing whale spouts, but we were more interested in the seals and sea lions. After quite some time watching and listening to all the commotion, it was time to get back to camp for cocktails and dinner prep.

The weather couldn’t have been better, so it was great to sit in camp between the camp fire and the BBQ fire, since I brought the medium sized Weber. We had drinks and talked about the trip so far, and recounting the glorious Niners victory over the hapless Rams. We decided to keep it simple and have hot dogs and all the fixins’ that Kristen prepared. The dogs were good, but they had a thick skin and burst open easily so they were split from end to end and chewy, but not terrible. It was great fun watching the newbies come by and drive around a few laps, pick a site, go back to pay, then back again to set up, the last one we noticed coming well after dark. We said a brief hello to our neighbors as the lady helped the man back the trailer into the spot and noticed her “NRA” sweatshirt. I kept my ax handle a little closer that night.

I had tried to say hello to the neighbors 2 dogs as they were setting up, but they got excited and barked and got in trouble. That sent them and me scurrying back out of sight. They were very well behaved bigger dogs; a cool Dalmatian and yellow lab. When the neighbors returned from their early morning walk, we were sitting around our fire having coffee and breakfast. I made an effort to go out and say hello and pet the dogs. The lab was super friendly but she kept the Dalmation away with doggy treats so we didn’t get to play with him. They were from Nevada and seemed nice. The weather was still great and this was our only day here, so I was a little anxious to get out and see what there was to see, but at the same time, kicking back at camp was quite splendid.

Eventually, we packed up our picnic gear for our days adventure. We got about 10’ out of the campground and turned left alongside the campground back towards the golf course. The idea of the golf course next to the state park, and the basketball and volleyball courts really had given me a KOA type impression of the campground, but it turned out to be far from that, and was way more low key and rustic. While it certainly may have a different vibe in the summer, we were happy to find it so slow and quiet and with so few people around. We took the dirt road still not believing we would find a golf course, but sure enough, through the thick cold morning mist we saw a golf cart and 2 guys on a green and were quite amused by the sight.

There weren’t any signs for the club house, or restaurant, or parking or that you might have been in the maintenance yard, so we just kind of drove in and out again. We didn’t see a single car or another person, so we laughed at the thought of these 2 guys just driving out in the cart and sneaking on to get in a few holes for free and have the place to themselves. It was a killer day and would have been huge to be playing golf in that beautiful valley. Back on Cape Arago Highway, we drove the mile or so back up to the Cape Arago Lighthouse overlook. We packed some beers and water and began to head down the trail. We stopped to greet an old timer with some age showing, but a very healthy and youthful face and a very cool walking stick, quite nattily dressed and a younger woman whom I assumed was his daughter. We asked which trail to take and he told us this was the old wagon road down to the rich people’s house from Charleston. He began to tell us about the area and his childhood growing up there. He and his daughter were real cute with each other, teasing each other and finishing sentences, and correcting each other and laughing about not being able to remember details.

We loved hearing the tales so we kept asking questions and he kept asking if we had time for one more so we were together for a good 20 minutes or more. It was truly a delight. That start set the tone for one of the best walks we’ve ever had. The trail was awesome; the forest was awesome; and the views of the rugged coast were tremendous. In many sections, the coast had eroded so much, the fencing was gone or still dangling over the edge. The sun was warm, but the wind was at work as well, so finding those sunny spots that were protected made us stop and stay for long periods. We took a ton of pictures as each cove, point, reef, and shoreline seemed incredible.

We met up with a dad and his little girl finding their way through the forest and picking huckleberries along the way. We had a laugh because I had stopped to take a picture and tucked into the bushes just off the trail. When he passed me he tried to avert his daughter’s attention towards Kristen. Then as he passed me, saw I was taking a picture, not taking a leak, which made him laugh out loud and he let us in on the joke. We just had an incredible time in there. It was time for some grub, so we drove to the end of the earth at Cape Arago, and backed into a parking space with a stunning view south along the coast.

We set up our lunch and had beverages and sat in the back of the truck having an awesome picnic and basically the whole place to ourselves. A few folks came and went, as they walked out to the viewpoint, but it was getting windy and cool, so folks did not stay long. I was thinking about the old guy we had talked to and his stories of Charleston. It finally dawned on me that the rich people he was talking about, the house that the road was built for was the Simpson place, which is the reason for the Shore Acres State Park.

Captain Asa M. Simpson, who founded the town of North Bend after his arrival on Coos Bay in 1855 was Louis Jerome’s (L.J.) father. The Simpson empire included significant holdings in the shipping and lumber industry from Canada to California. In 1906-1907, L.J. built the seaside home for his wife Cassandra and named it “Shore Acres”. They moved to Shore Acres in 1915 and the property eventually included an indoor swimming pool, spacious gardens, a modern farm, and a dairy herd.

Cassandra Simpson died in April 1921, and the Shore Acres mansion burned in July. Simpson remarried in 1922, and he and Lela Gardner adopted two infant girls. The family lived in the gardener’s cottage until 1928, when they moved into a new house built on the original Shore Acres site. Simpson directed his promotional talents to the town of Empire, where he invested heavily in rebuilding the old Southern Oregon Company’s sawmill. The crash of 1929 and the ensuing depression took all their holdings, including the mortgaged Shore Acres. In December 1939, Simpson suffered a stroke and bankruptcy came in 1940. The Shore Acres mortgage holder sold the estate to the State of Oregon in 1942, and the property was leased temporarily to the War Department. After the war, the house was determined unsuitable for restoration and was razed in late 1948. All of this rich history happened while our old friend lived here. Just remarkable.

With a great picnic over, and the naughty Crow’s well fed, the wind was chilling us faster than the sun’s warmth could stay upon us, so we decided to get back in the rig and head for shelter. The campsite was well protected, but we thought we would head to town since we hadn’t seen it yet and had heard so much about it. The coast between the park and town was riddled with beautiful homes overlooking the coast and bay. It raised our expectations of town to unprecedented heights. We were to be disappointed. As with many of Oregon’s coastal towns, the main roads, 101 most often, Cape Arago Highway in this case, go right through the center of town, so there is often a lot of noise, and commotion and activity. Plus, it tends to string the town out alongside the road, rather than cluster it in more of a center or few square blocks that are more easily walked.

Charleston was rough and small, with little to no reasons for visitors or tourists to stop. We did not see a restaurant or a bar with a view that looked like a place to check out (seems like we missed the Portside), nor a store to buy a morsel or 3. We did find a coffee shop but it was closed. We drove across the South Slough to the marina and looked at all the boats, many that were in dry dock that looked like variations of my brother’s 1946 Monterrey fishing boat. It was interesting to poke around, but a tad disappointing to not find a place to hang out. Nonetheless, cocktails and fire awaited us back in camp.

And what a great choice it was. The weather was holding, and although the skies were gray, it was still warm out of the wind. The campsite was well protected and hanging at our site was great. Cocktails, fire, a little conversation with our Nevada neighbors, and it was time to get down and get serious. I had been dreaming of eating the salmon and steaks we got from Rays and now it was time AND, I was going to consume them both at the same time. Oh my. The fore prepared, the grill perfect, I poured the lemon butter sauce I got for the fish deliberately and generously onto the salmon and let her do her thing. I was beside myself.

I was a little thrown off because the whitish sauce hid the whitish oils that come to the surface of a salmon when it is ready to be flipped, but since I was eating this all myself I was more than willing to err on the undercooked side for this fine baby. I flipped her over and watched as a light searing ensued and eventually the skin peeled right off. Oh my god. There may be something to food tasting better when it is eaten outside, but I know that this was just plain delicious. It was devoured in no time and I didn’t have to even think about sharing. It was so good, I couldn’t wait to eat something equally as delicious, so I got right to work.

K doesn’t like seafood, so I put the grill in the open fire to burn off any residual salmon oils or flavor. I smothered the 3 coulottes in a BBQ sauce that K picked out at Ray’s and put them on alongside an ear of corn. They were cooking too slowly so we carried the grill over to the campsite grill and put it over the open flames. The height of the grill over the flames and coals was just right and they cooked up perfectly. I had no trouble devouring the 2 steaks as darkness fell upon the camp. What a great day. We were still concerned about the weather, even though the prognosis for rain seemed to have backed off a little. We spent some time packing up everything we could and organizing everything that was outside the tent to make leaving quick and easy in the morning. K even took everything out of the tent we wouldn’t need, to facilitate a quick morning exit. Sleep was excellent.

We were super happy not to have had any rain overnight or in the morning. We somewhat leisurely packed up and were ready to go with no hint of rain. I didn’t want to tempt the gods, but we probably could have had a fire and coffee, but it was time to go even though we had another night paid for at the site. It was going to rain today, and probably continue for the rest of the days we were on the coast, so no point getting all wet and yucky. The only thing that was wet was the rain fly for the tent and it packed well into one of the garbage cans now devoid of firewood. We were so happy to have a very decent morning to pack up and go without the rain making things tough.

We headed straight to the coffee place we saw the day before and were stoked to find it open and without other customers. We struck up a conversation with the lady and soon were just sitting in the shop and talking to her about her Coast Guard husband and being a runner and only working one day a week and living all over the place and Eureka/Arcata, and Charleston/Coos Bay. We yakked and laughed and drank coffee. It was great.

Eventually a young guy came in and he sheepishly joined the conversation saying his family had moved to Stockton having heard we were from Sacramento. He was a super nice guy who shared a house with 2 other guys outside Ventura and did underwater construction/welding all over the world. What a guy. He was super interesting and it was great to hear a few of his adventures. By the time he left, other folks came in, it had begun to rain, and it seemed time for us to go. We thanked the coffee runner lady and hit the road.

We detoured through Coos Bay/North Bend, not really realizing Charleston was literally on the outskirts of North bend, which is essentially Coos Bay for the uninitiated. I didn’t mind driving a bit through town and along the river and over bridges as we didn’t have far to drive to the hotel in Florence and we weren’t planning to stop in Coos Bay, so this way we got a little sense of the place and saw some sights. I didn’t see anything to change my mind. After a loop or two, we were headed North on 101, The Oregon Coast Highway, often alongside miles of sand dunes of one state park or another, Siuslaw National Forest, or Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area.

A few miles up the road in Gardiner, we stopped at the Tsunami Gallery, a typical old coastal building across from the Umpqua River. The gallery was huge and had a good variety of paintings, photography, sculptures, and odd and ends. The owner was a super nice guy who spent a good deal of time with us and explained a lot about a couple local photographers and their work. We were especially taken by the photography of Charles Draper and a woman who had several infrared images. I wish I had enough money to buy one of those.

Across the street is a very trippy art gallery called the Three Rivers Gallery. It is dominated by large metal sculptures and welded pieces, but it also has some sketches and plaster type life sized art. It is very interesting, as is the proprietor. He greeted us seemingly half asleep and apologizing for still being in his “sleeping clothes”, although, it didn’t look like it to us. He was a real gentle guy and seemed genuinely touched and pleased we were in his shop. The longer we stayed and looked at things, the better his stories got. This is the guy you could end up staying 3 days with and having a life changing experience. He was taking care of his dad, and wanted to get back to the Bay Area to be near his twin brother, and all his art had a deep personal story. It was a great stop and an awesome memory.

It was raining off and on and we were happy to be inside these studios or in the rig. It was nice only having to travel the 60 miles or so to Florence and the Driftwood Inn at Heceta Beach. Despite arriving at noon or so, we thought we would try to check in or at least ask, but the lady made it clear to Kristen that we were not getting a room until check-in. No biggy; we drove back to the little “old town” part of Florence along the Siuslaw River to explore and get some grub. Unfortunately, we followed the advice of the many billboards and ate at Mo’s. Now I am usually OK with trading a view and ambiance for really good food, but this food just was not that good, and we didn’t feel that good about eating it, which is a real low bar for us. However, the river view was nice, the people were nice, and the beers were good.

After lunch we set out to see the touristy crap they had for sale in the touristy shops along the touristy main street. Florence was a bit disappointing, but we saw some interesting art, and talked to some nice people. We probably should have checked out the maps and Googly a bit more to see the beaches and sand dunes, and parks around, but it was pretty rainy and having a store or overhang for shelter when needed was a nicety, especially since we had done our best to keep dry when we were camping, it seemed silly to get soaked now, especially without access to our room.

It was nearly 4:00, so we headed back to the hotel to see if they would let us in. I had to fight with K to make her go back to the front desk because she didn’t want to deal with the hag from before, but luckily, I won out and she went in, and it was a much nicer lady working, so all was good. The rickety elevator eventually got us up to the 4^th floor and our room was fine. Nothing new, especially nice, or current, but the ocean view was awesome, there was a balcony, and it was clean and neat, so all was good. We didn’t feel much like eating, so we just scrounged in the ice chest and ate in the room watching TV and the rain fall on the beach. It was a very good day and awesome to get a good shower and into a nice, soft bed.

The next morning, I was awake early and although it was overcast, it wasn’t raining. I was already bummed that the trip was almost over, and I wanted to get out to enjoy our last day. I was eventually able to rustle Kristen out of bed and we headed to the lobby for a coffee then out to the road for a walk. Unfortunately, the neighborhood ended n a block or so so we traipsed our way through the dunes down to the beach. Wow, it was incredible. A little breezy, and little wet, but totally wild and fresh and clean. We walked a bit until it started legitimately raining. Our gear was good, but we didn’t want to get soaked so we turned around and headed back.

By the time, we were back where we started, the rain stopped and I wanted to stay and walk a bit more, but it seemed this cycle would repeat for a while and the thought of French toast entered my brain and took over. We were the first people in the restaurant and the super nice lady was pouring us coffee and juice and cheerily chatting us up in no time. My French toast was covered in nuts of some sort which totally ruined them, but the coffee was good and the lady was great. She told us about growing up in Waldport, and her husband being a good athlete and great wrestler, and her kids not wanting anything to do with sports, and gave us a few suggestions for things to see.

After breakfast, we went back to the room to change and get our day going. Both the restaurant waitress and the nice coffee lady in Charleston suggested we stop at Yachats (Ya-hots), so we headed there, assuming I could get gas there or along the way. You know what they say about people that assume, and sure enough, we barely made it into Waldport for gas. The two young stocky guys that came out to pump the gas for me were super nice and we talked the whole time. I still wonder if I was supposed to tip them. We crossed the bridge over the Alsea River just because, and then headed back to Yachats. We serendipitously parked in front of the rock shop, so while K went to look elsewhere for otherwise, I went in to the holy place.

Oh my. What a place. Styx Stones n’ Bones had me right away and I immediately started a pile on the counter. There were so many cool pieces; some nicely presented, labeled, and priced like in a retail store; some in dusty piles on a metal shelf like a lab. Big, fantastic, colorful pieces mounted on posts and little plain obscure fragments in a box. I could hardly focus. Marc, the proprietor was a husky redheaded fellow with a great sense of humor and personality. We were basically just calling back and forth across the store. Then he would help other customers and then come back to see what I was looking at. I figured I should stay under $200 and he said he would make me a great deal, which I really should have worked harder on, but when K came back, I felt a little bad about spending the money and taking so much time. I was just enthralled.

K helped me pick out the last piece. I am sure we could have gotten a much better deal, probably another $75 piece thrown in, but I was very happy with my pieces. One more big showy number would have been sweet, but my collection looks great at home and I am happy with it. We stashed our big heavy box of morsels in the truck and then began to hunt for the café that the nice coffee lady in Charleston recommended. We roamed a little and then found this sweet little old cottage turned café. We sat in the front window in the full sun soaking up the warmth and looking out over the ocean and mouth of the Yachats River. I had 2 local beers and K had a great cocktail. My frittata was great and we left full, but still thinking about food. We were thinking about Game 4 of the Astros v. Yankees game later that night, so we decided to order a pizza and watch the game in our room. We scampered across main street/101, and went into the Drift Inn bar and restaurant.

The young girl said we could order the pizza at the bar, so we went up and grabbed a seat. The bartender was super friendly and we ordered and decided to have a beverage while we waited. We wandered outside to the cool patio and garden area, and saw the pizza oven. It was a really cool set up with a colorful history going back to the early 1900’s. It was a great stop. Heading South back down the coast towards Florence, I had wanted to stop at the Devils’ Churn that the hotel waitress had recommended. This was a very cool natural feature.

We nabbed a great parking spot right off the bat, and ambled down the path to see what there was to see. Right off we saw a huge spray of ocean water shoot high into the air. Whatever was happening down there was big. At the end of the steps, we could see a deep cut in the rocky shoreline; a channel starting at about 30’ wide and narrowing to a 10’ tall rock ledge that the waves smashed into, but crashed well over as well, resulting in huge splashes over and over again. As the waves receded out of the wedge, the ocean water would spill back out from the gorge above the ledge, pouring down the rock face creating an intermittent waterfall.

All would be calm for a few moments and then a gentle kind of push or rush of ocean. Then a frothy wave as the new surge crashed into the preceding wave trying to get back out to sea. Then calm; then a huge curling wave would sweep all the way into the inlet and thrash up against the rock ledge resulting in a huge splash and misting of the path. And the cycle continued over and over; big waves, little surges and everything in between busting into the core of the earth. I teased a German tourist that I would rent him an inner tube so he could ride all the thrashing waves in the middle of the gorge. We followed the path around to a sweet little bay where Cape Creek spilled into the ocean and took in the sun and views for a little before heading to Heceta Head.

We didn’t know it at the time, but a couple more natural features, similar to the Devil’s Churn that are worth checking out are Thor’s Well and Sprouting Horn. Next time maybe. We almost died trying to make the sudden downhill turnoff on a sharp turn to Heceta Head Lighthouse. The Cape Creek Bridge crosses Cape Creek right there and is a super cool old style bridge worth checking out. It was under repair at the time, but still very cool. It was drizzly on and off, but we decided we should still walk up the path to the lighthouse. By the time we got there, a group of kids were packing up and we had the spot to ourselves. It was really spectacular, even, or maybe especially, in the drizzle.

As we walked back down, we wandered over to the Lightkeeper’s house and saw that it was a B&B. How sweet would that be? It was pricey, but a really special place. We got back to the car as a legitimate rain started and were happy to have the shelter of trucky. Now just a few miles North of Florence, it was time to get home and enjoy the room, pizza, beverages, and the Astros destroy the Yankees. It was the last night of the trip and we were going to enjoy it.

Sleep was pretty good, but it was now exciting to think about getting home and the kitties, and the fishies, and the garden. We got a good early start, and had a full tank of gas from Waldport, so we headed East on 126 and were on the outskirts of Eugene before long. We really have to do a better job on the road with Googly because I had seen that the route they wanted us to take was a huge loop from the SE corner of town way up around a “Beltway” that would loop North, East, then South again right back to where we would be if we just kept going straight East until we came to 5.

Once we got there though, the sign just said “To 5”, so I took it and immediately regretted it. I bailed as soon as I could, but didn’t want to retrace our steps to the turn, so I just went cross country and oh my. It took so long; we were always in shitty parts of town, we didn’t know where we were; we missed seeing any part of the U. of Oregon campus, (which we would have gone right to if we had stuck to our guns). The whole thing pissed me off and wasted time and energy so to hell with Eugene! We were hungry and wanted to eat in Eugene, but with nothing but scary places and fast food, we found ourselves speeding down I-5 instead.

We tried to find options along the way, I missed one exit that seemed to have potential, although we were wary of numerous billboard recommendations since our Florence restaurant mishap. It wasn’t until Roseburg that we simply had to pick a place and stick with it. K used Googly to find the Parrott House restaurant. Following Googly directions, which is ALWAYS a mistake, we ended up in a narrow ally in a residential neighborhood staring at some children play in their front yard. Assuming this wasn’t the place, we drove around the block a few times, until we noticed some open gates that appeared to lead to something more than a house. Sure enough, this was the place.

Although a bit out of sorts from the drive, we were happy to see such a cool place, a remodeled Victorian, on such a beautiful setting. We were greeted and seated and then the waiter came. He was a handsome young guy, but my only guess is he was very inexperienced and his brain only worked intermittently. We got a drink, and could have had another or more, but eventually our food came and it was quite good. Trying to get his attention was like trying to get the cats out of the house at night. It was comical. The best was K noticed a girl asking for some lemon for her tea. The guy returned with a lemon, a whole lemon, and just handed it to her. She really tried to be polite and thank him and keep from bursting into laughter until he left, or at least he had turned away. At that moment the whole table erupted and K giggled out loud having watched the entire encounter. The place is really nice, and the food and drinks were good, but either they must have just opened or nobody had any experience. Hopefully it gets better.

Filled up and ready for the last stretch, we blasted on down South. We got gas in Yreka and were again, always absolutely blown away by Mt. Shasta. We were home about 7:00 and an hour or so later Mike came to stay overnight between music gigs. Unfortunately he had bad news about Edna’s sister; not Nancy whom we knew was just starting cancer treatment, but Mary whose breast cancer had returned and instead of helping Edna with Nancy’s treatment, would now have to focus on herself. It was a rough ending to a fantastic trip, but as always, it was great to be back home and continue my wonderful life with my sweet honey, the love of my life, and my most favoritist person in the world.

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