We landed in Portland last night, grabbed a room, and slept through the anticipation of what awaited us in the morning. After breakfast at Kenny & Zukes Deli, it was time to worship at the shrine of books – Powell’s. Now, with a new book each and a box being sent home by the helpful folks at Powell’s, Caroline has another stop that has become a de rigueur mandate: visit a local yarn store. This one is called KnitPurl and is one of the few places to find Loft yarns – she chooses four skeins; I take three that suggest they’d make for a nice new cap. Another stop for some food and gear, and finally we are driving south, aiming for the Oregon coast. For 70 miles, we slog down the freeway, not our favorite thing to do on vacation, but an occasionally necessary evil. At exit 228, we are turning off in the direction of Newport – on the ocean. Four hours later we arrive in Port Orford.

On the Oregon coast, we find a gray and dreary day, but don’t confuse dreary with dreadful. These solemn, quiet days are a welcome respite from our sun-everyday existence in the desert. While muted tones make for less than perfectly dynamic travel photos, they give us a reason to snuggle into warm clothes and enjoy some solitude.

I’ve said it before and would hope it needn’t be said again, but I suppose I must: it seems a day doesn’t go by that the sun doesn’t part the sky to smile its kindly rays upon our happiness. We swoon in delight at the beauty and take inventory once more of our incredible luck.

Normally, we stop here to walk up the railroad tracks to a rock feature in the water that has appeared before on my blog, but today, the crossing itself is the center of attention. Oh, how I love these pleasant little surprises.

The view from Umpqua Lighthouse State Park overlooking the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. We’re still driving south and can’t help but pull over to take in some of our favorite views.

Not quite all the way from our perspective, but certainly a double rainbow.

Hoping that we’d arrived with plenty of time, we raced down to the fishing dock and found that the restaurant we wanted to eat at would be open until 8:00 pm. Great, back into the car and hurry the six miles we still need to travel in order to check into our campsite at Humbug Mountain. It’s dark, but it’s not raining! With our tent set up and sleeping bags tossed in, it’s once again time to jump back into the car, but this will be the last rushing around on this trip.

Here we are at Griffs On The Dock. For years, we’ve wanted to eat here but have never managed to arrive during business hours. It’s not that we know anything special about the place; it’s just a matter of being in love with the location and the building. Many a time Caroline and I have sat on this dock and watched the ocean churn with the most ferocious waves and hammering winds. We can sit in the car next to the stone wall, dry and cozy, armed with hot coffee,  and stare out at the sea forever and have done just that. Tonight, though, little is to be seen under the dark, overcast sky, and anyway, our stomachs are yearning to be fed.

Dinner starts with a bowl of steamers before moving on to the lingcod special. After yumming over that, we got yummier with a shared slice of marionberry pie served a la mode. As we are finishing, the last customer for the night comes in. Interested in what we might recommend, we suggest he try the special. Stating he’s a fisherman and is looking for something yummy, we offer our assurance that this is indeed a good choice. Turns out he was up from Los Angeles and hoping to get some serious fishing in before the worst of the anticipated storm set in. The talk continues with gusto as we learn he fishes out of Yakutat, Alaska – the same place we exited our summer rafting trip of the Alsek River. Small world.