This answers the age-old question: “What does a yurt in a city look like?” Well, in Oregon, it looks like this. So this isn’t really an age-old question, but should anyone have been wondering, they now know the answer. What would be more helpful for me personally would be to have an index of trip notes per state that we’d check prior to leaving for a place with warnings of where we don’t want to return to. As I lamented in yesterday’s blog post, the police sirens put a serious damper on what should have been a better visit to one of Oregon’s state parks.

Do you see that pristine blue sky? It was accompanied by below-freezing air. The idea of being out here alone as people recovered from yesterday’s festivities proved wrong, with some hearty individuals braving the cold with us. Shortly after starting our walk north, we came upon a guy standing in the surf fishing this early Friday morning. Not far past him, though, was a really tough guy: while the first fisherman was wearing waders, this second one was in shorts and neoprene booties. Now, we were thoroughly impressed and maybe a little embarrassed that we were bundled up for a snowstorm here on a sunny day.

Incredulous is the only way to describe Michael, who is wearing nothing more than shorts and a healthy dose of determination. He strode with obvious intention to head into deeper waters. Without a second of hesitation, he was aiming for the waves. We stood there, gobsmacked that he had the cajones to play the role of Iron Man. There was a woman nearby who seemed to be waiting for him, so we struck up a conversation. It turns out that she’s his mom, and he does this every morning in order to start the day stress-free. We were impressed with this idea of tackling the most difficult moment of the day head-on and by choice.

We can only scratch our heads as to why the jellyfish that wash ashore do so without tentacles. A couple of days ago, we had to Google the toxicity of dead shore-bound jellies as Caroline wanted to touch them, and no matter whichever idiot in my youth convinced me that even onshore, they are poisonous, I carried that and insisted that my wife leave them alone. Upon finding out that it is mainly the man o’ war and bluebottle jellies found in warm tropical waters that can be problematic (yet rarely deadly) and that cold water jellies, while they may act as an irritant, are never deadly. With this knowledge, we take license to finally know how gooey, slimy, and jelly-like these animals from the Cnidaria phylum are.

This creature hails from the Phylum Mollusca in the Class of Gastropoda. In German, she is known as Schnecke to those who love her. I effortlessly celebrate her most every day – unless she’s being truly difficult, but even then, I am never very far away from knowing how symbiotic I feel with her. It’s as though she’s the snail’s body and I the shell.

When I told Caroline that I wanted to walk to the houses down the beach, she balked at the distance, but that was nearly where we made it. A call of nature at the Road’s End State Recreation Site had the requisite facilities become our turnaround point on this all-morning 5-hour walk up and down the beach.

Remember I told you it was freezing here on the coast? Where freshwater was running over the beach to the ocean, we would occasionally pass ice, but in some places, we’d see these crazy crystalline patterns created by the frozen water sitting atop the sand.

Also, on the sand, we found more jellyfish glistening in the sun. A family trying to examine these specimens was leery about getting too close, so Caroline picked one up and handed it to their teenage son, assuring them it was safe. The kid was delighted, begging his sister to make a video of him holding a jellyfish.

By the time we were done examining everything on the beach, including every jellyfish we came across, it was time for coffee and lunch. Sadly, this might be the one trip to Oregon where we have to forego a Dutch Bros. as they have been incredibly busy yesterday and more so today due to so many people enjoying the great weather on the coast over the long weekend.

A German place called Autobahn 101 was our lunch spot, and just as we’d expected, it was fairly mediocre, but we’d eyeballed it on previous trips through the area and knew sooner or later we had to give it a try. We followed this up with a trip to the giant corporate bully of a coffee franchise that was downright slow compared to Dutch Bros. We were now ready for one of the longest drives of this leg of the vacation, with nearly 70 miles to get us to our destination in Wheeler Bay.

Don’t think for even a minute that during our relatively long drive (said with maximum tongue-in-cheek), we wouldn’t pull over at every location we could. We took a break in Neskowin with the intent of mailing postcards when, in the small parking lot at the end of Neskowin Resort (location of the post office), there was a sign pointing to Neskowin Beach and Proposal Rock. We’d never stopped here before, so that’s all we needed to demand a look.

While the time of day worked against getting a good shot of Proposal Rock, this flock of plovers was a great alternative. I could watch these fast-footed shorebirds for hours, but they are never in one place for more than a few seconds, and if I get too close, they’ll fly away.

In this photo, our next destination is shown, though we didn’t know it at the time. For now, we are content walking on this beach and being in this moment.

It was Caroline becoming enchanted by the rippling sun and shadow playing on the sand of the freshwater in Neskowin Creek that had her pull me over to see it for myself. The rapidly changing scene didn’t let me capture the nearshore parallel lines that would pop up, lengthen, and just as quickly dissipate, morphing into other shapes.

The thumb of the rock (Cape Kiwanda) sticking out of the ocean that can be seen here is the same one I took a photo of from Neskowin; see two images above. We are now standing on the Dune Ridge Trail segment of the 4.8-mile loop known as the Nestucca Spit Trail at the Bob Straub State Park in Pacific City, looking north.

This path started on an arm of the Marsh Trail segment, which, due to its deep sand, is a bit of a slog to walk over. The problem with the depth of the sand is that it’s a very fine powder with deeper pits carved out by the hooves of horses that are obviously frequent visitors to the park. The thicket we are walking through up here on the dune ridge is quite overgrown in parts, making us question if we are still actually on the trail. We’re not too worried, though, as there are plenty of places to dip down to the beach to walk it back to where we parked the car.

Beach circles made by alien spaceships because there is no other explanation.

Grass lines were also impressed upon the earth by alien spacecraft.

Looking out a dry marsh that continues off to the right and over to the brighter green trees. On the other side of that tree line and before the hillside is the Nestucca River that flows into the Nestucca Bay. We couldn’t make it all the way to the end of the spit on this visit, but we’ll be sure to take the full 4.8-mile loop on a subsequent trip to Oregon so we can make our way to the mouth of the bay, see more of the marsh and hopefully walk a bit of the river trail. Across the bay is Porter Point which also has my curiosity and is one of the stretches of beach we’ve yet to explore.

I’m fairly certain these are Sitka Spruce pine cones, which makes me think of the Spruce Goose seaplane built by Howard Hughes that we visited in McMinnville, Oregon, back in September 2011. It was called Spruce Goose even though the plane was made mostly of birch. Thinking about this had me go on a detour to find the blog entry for that particular trip to Oregon, but it turns out I never posted anything as I was neck-deep in writing my book about the Grand Canyon. So now I’ve been over-checking out that six-day vacation that saw us flying in and out of Portland with a ton of reminders of places I’d enjoy revisiting. There can never be enough time and money to do all the things Caroline and I would like to do in life. It probably would have been easier being born as a Sitka spruce pine cone and living in one place to one day just drop to the ground and have a horse hoof grind my remains into the sand before pooping on me.

Those deep holes are from the hooves of horses that passed this way before Caroline and me.

What is it?

Update: I’ve since learned it’s likely from the willow family, one of the Salix varieties.

Heading out towards Whalen Island, looking north. Click here to see a different perspective from 2008 and what is likely my favorite photo I’ve shot from the bridge we are on.

Turn around on the bridge, and this is the view looking to the area that constitutes the largest part of Sand Lake. We’ve not explored this area very well as the island itself is a popular destination with the OHV crowd, and hence, hippies on foot looking for quiet and solitude are probably misplaced.

After making our way up the coast, the road was about to take us inland on the way towards Tillamook. Instead, we opted for the scenic route instead of expediency. Our hope was to capture a glimmer of sunset, and while we didn’t get to exactly where we might have hoped for, we were in for an indulgent surprise. The view is of the Netarts Spit and is a clue about our upcoming stop and why this tiny detour is being made.

Passing Netarts Bay with barely a hint of sun on the horizon, we are about to enter the town of Netarts. Caroline breaks out the old memory machine to start reminiscing about sharing an incredible dish at the Schooner Restaurant and Lounge we’d enjoyed on a previous visit. As a matter of fact, we had already driven by when we decided that an appetizer and a drink wouldn’t hurt our dinner plans, so a quick U-turn was made. Ahh, the joys of spontaneity and not finding disappointment when you walk into a place you have great memories of. Caroline started with a cocktail called Three Gingers and a Red, which was made of Yazi Ginger Vodka, New Deal Ginger Liqueur, ginger simple syrup, and cranberry with a fresh cranberry garnish, while the Oysters Rockoyaki was the only food option for us. What exactly is this appetizer we are so fond of? From the Schooner’s own menu: Netarts Bay oysters wood oven roasted with pork belly, greens & garlic motoyaki sauce. This, of course, asks the question, what is motoyaki sauce? From Wikipedia: Motoyaki is a style of cooking involving baked food topped with a mayonnaise-based sauce served in an oyster shell.

Time to finish the drive to Wheeler Bay and get more dinner at the Salmonberry Saloon. When we started the day, we didn’t know we’d be eating at a saloon for dinner; that idea came after I called the Wheeler on the Bay Lodge to let the owner, Martha, know we’d be there a bit later if that was okay. You see, we’d been through Wheeler many other times and had spoken of staying here. So far, we’d always forgotten; this time, we didn’t. What we weren’t sure of though, was does Wheeler have a place for dinner? Martha told us that there was a great place next door, and without hearing about the menu, we decided that no matter what the fare, we’d support another small business in this tiny roadside town. What a great treat the Salmonberry is, we’ll be back for a second round for sure.

Martha at the Lodge is an amazing host and might be the most enthusiastic person on the Oregon coast you’ll likely meet. Her place is right on the bay, and had we known then what we know now, we’d have booked room #9, which has to be one of the most romantic rooms out here. Room 9 is the Mermaid Room and has the best view, a deck overlooking the bay, and the greatest bathtub in a cedar paneled room, while the bedroom also has a fireplace. Seriously, it doesn’t get better than this. Actually, it does because the Handy Creek Bakery and Cafe is a 5-minute walk away, but that’s for breakfast, and I’ll get to that in tomorrow’s blog entry.