This is the road through Cape Lookout. On a previous trip, years ago, I was, in fact looking out when I spotted an owl in the trees over the road. It was much like a day like today, but then again, it seems like nearly every time we’ve been up this road, there’s a section in the clouds.

Pulled over to get out of somebody’s way as we plodded along at tourist speed. This is a nice stop we’ve been to before. It affords us the opportunity to look back at the mountains we just drove through. The water next to us is part of Netarts Bay and the home of The Schooner Restaurant, but we won’t be able to visit this year. To the astute, you may have noticed this place is mentioned often here at johnwise.com; well, if you ever had the chance to try their Oyster Rockoyaki and you like oysters in the first place, you’d understand the obsession.

The last time we were in Oceanside, the tide was too high for us to feel comfortable for a quick walk in the tunnel that’s at the bottom center of this photo. This rock that juts into the sea stands about 100 feet tall and has a nearly vertical face. But to travel under it, the walk is a mere 30 feet or so to the other side.

The tunnel is rough-hewn, and at one point, nearly to the other side, the water got too deep for my hiking boots, but Caroline’s rubber boots that we picked up back on the first days of this peace-of-mind trip took her right through.

This was the first day that the wind seemed biting cold on the cheeks, but we were prepared with a wool base layer, fleece, a heavy rain-proof shell, and a beanie. I should point out that having the masks handily about our necks allows for quick pull-up for a bit of Balaklava warmth on the face. It was a short walk back to the car as rain started coming down shortly after snapping this photo.

When signs are as entertaining as this, they must be remembered and celebrated even.

Simply a lot of love for a forest that will hug the short drive down to our next stop.

This is that destination: the Cape Meares Lighthouse. It’s been a while since we were last here, but it was back in 2005 that I took one of my favorite photos of this lighthouse. That image is so deeply seared into our memories that we knew something was wrong with this picture. I don’t really know how we had phone service out here, but we did, and with it, Caroline discovered that back in 2010, two drunk young men thought it was a great idea to empty their guns into an irreplaceable fresnel lens. First, why is it always men? Second, they drove this winding road at night drunk while carrying guns. Why couldn’t they have taken their car off a cliff instead? I know that’s not very polite, but I feel the treasure in this 130-year lighthouse is worth more than their lives and what it cost us in repairs and the price of incarceration after putting them to trial.

While this looks like we’re doing stuff and not nothing, it’s actually very little compared to our previous trips when we’d be out at the break of dawn. Today, we hung out in our Airstream, having a late breakfast of scrambled eggs with leftover hamburger from two days ago; you remember the 8-pounder from Newport Cafe? Well, that actually was part of breakfast yesterday too. It was going on 11:00 when we hauled ourselves outside and got in the car to do stuff before falling victim to doing nothing. Now we’re out here, and things are about to get far more interesting.

Back on November 21, 2012, Caroline and I were out on this very road. We’d visited the lighthouse just as we did today, but instead of continuing down the Three Capes Scenic Road to Cape Meares and around to Tillamook, we turned around to return to Cape Lookout, where we were spending the night in a yurt. It turns out that on that day eight years ago a landslide had begun that was producing “bubbling” on the road. By January 17, 2013, the road had shifted 9 feet, and the county moved to close it. It’s been closed since.

We hadn’t been up here to the lighthouse since 2012. On subsequent visits to the coast, we knew there was a road closure up here and that we couldn’t drive through, so we concentrated on seeing other areas in between that had been neglected, such as Pacific City, Netarts, and Oceanside. Seeing that the blocked road was right at the entrance to Cape Meares Lighthouse and there were no signs against trespassing, we decided to walk down a bit to see if we could find where the slide happened.

While the road is decaying and being taken over by forest it wasn’t until we got to this large buckle that we thought we understood the extent of what caused the closure. Thinking there could be more, we continued on our walk. By the way, on this side of the mountain, there were no winds, so our walk was comfortable and dry, too.

Along the way, we had to be on the lookout for newts, as they now rule the road.

We’d been hoping to stumble upon an overlook that Caroline remembered stopping at on some previous trip, but we couldn’t find it, so we finally turned around. There was a memorial sign next to the road in memory of Walt Gile that had me wondering why that sign was here while all other barriers, signs, and road artifacts had been removed. I walked over to snap a photo so we could look him up at a later date. Approaching the sign, I could see that an overgrown road lay beyond a berm, so we went to investigate.

Shortly before we got to this view, Caroline thought was extremely similar to the one she remembered; there was a seismic sensor embedded in the fading asphalt. That made me a bit nervous as we’d not seen one of these yet. Maybe a dozen or two feet from there, the road took a strange turn up as though it had been lifted. Is this what was meant by a “bubbling” road? There was something peculiar about getting closer to what seemed to be an edge, and that was because, just past this, the land simply dropped straight off.

Wherever this road once went, it no longer goes there. This is no little bit of road buckling or bubbling, the earth just slid away and is now deep below. Now my minor nervousness is compounded by my sense of vertigo, and while it’s irrational to think that just because we’re standing on this unstable land, it could slide while we are on it, I’m still leery, and we take off.

Further research this evening reveals that it looks like a bypass will be built and that fundraising has already begun. Someday, we may once again drive this road, but today, we were able to walk about a mile down the middle of the street without a worry that someone would come racing around the corner and run us over. Instead, we had to worry if racing land might run us over.

Anyone who’s seen a blog entry from us about the Oregon Coast should have seen this one coming. A turkey, cranberry, and smoked brie sandwich from the Blue Heron Cheese Company is obligatory, even if we do have to eat it outside in our car this time. We also bought three wheels of smoked brie to bring home in our cooler. Something of a coup was the pastry-wrapped wheel of brie with huckleberry that we’ll be baking tomorrow, as one shouldn’t eat too many desserts in one day. For those who don’t know, the Blue Heron is in Tillamook, and if we are in Tillamook, you should be able to guess what comes next.

Socially distanced Tillamook ice cream straight from the factory is what came next. If you are reading this from outside America, Tillamook is famous for its cheddar cheese, but here in town and across Oregon, the factory has an ice cream counter that normally has hundreds of people in line waiting for some fat scoops of flavors such as Marionberry Pie, Mountain Huckleberry, along with tried and true varieties like chocolate and vanilla bean. Today, we tried a scoop of Coffee Almond Fudge.

But that wasn’t all, as a Cold Brew Milkshake captured our tastebuds, and before I knew it I was suffering from a wicked ice-cream headache.

Knowing the crash was coming, it was off to where else but Dutch Bros. This selfie turned out so GREAT that it’ll be our holiday cards for this year if we sent out holiday cards. Instead, it’s a grim reminder of what we look like tanked up on smoked brie, ice cream, and soy latte with an extra shot.

This steak traveled far to be grilled up here on the Oregon Coast. About a month ago, I received a dry-ice-filled box with six ribeye steaks. Not just any steaks either; these came from the Cattle Exchange in Canadian, Texas. Back on the 4th of July long weekend in 2006, Caroline and I were staying at Arrington Ranch, as seen in the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks when we decided to grab some dinner at a local steak house. We were expecting the worst, as who finds a good steak in some small town?

Cattle Exchange doesn’t do good steak; they make a great steak. So great in fact, that I finally bit the bullet and ordered some online; they weren’t cheap. The first one of six is being had tonight; we are splitting it. We kept this 1.2-pound (half-a-kilo) steak frozen these past two weeks until we could start it thawing yesterday. While I had to grill on it on a cold night in between rain showers, it was yet one more incredible highlight to this amazing day of doing almost nothing.

While out grilling dinner, the clouds were breaking up and scattering quickly with the ocean over at Pacific City Beach heard in the distance. Sadly, we are too full, too lazy, too warm, and cozy to go hit the outdoor shower tonight. Hopefully, in the morning, we won’t chicken out from taking a hot shower in the freezing air as we really do need to take advantage of that flower-lined cabin outdoors.