The affinity Caroline and I have for these yurts cannot be understated. Although the price has nearly doubled over the time we’ve been staying in them, it is well worth every penny for their location, proximity to the beach, usually the quiet during this time of year, and the cozy factor. You could say it is our version of glamping.

Out of the yurt, it was a short walk to the still-steaming Devils Lake, which is the namesake of the state park we have been staying at. Our first night in a yurt was 12 years earlier at Harris State Beach near Brookings down the coast. We stayed in the Winchuck unit, and over the years, we’ve incorporated yurts into our travel plans on at least eight of our intervening trips up here. At times, we’ve opted for motels as when we fly into Portland it’s often easier to grab rooms than pull our bedding along with us, but we’d prefer if every trip would see us staying in an Oregon State Park.

Living on the lake here is that beautiful.

We must be driving south today because this is the Depoe Bay blowhole in the town of Depoe Bay. The tide plays a large role in how explosive the ejection of water is going to be. Behind me is a spot when the tide is right, shoots water up about 70 feet, and will certainly get you wet on a hot summer day; not so great here on a cold fall day, though.

That’s Yaquina Head lighthouse out there, and so we must be fairly close to Newport, Oregon. Again, we are further south, and it was time to see if I had any notes regarding this Thanksgiving vacation; sure enough, I had a loose itinerary that showed a reservation for the William M. Tugman State Park down by Florence, Oregon. So now we know just how far we’ll be driving today; it will be about 108 miles or 172km for the rest of the universe. You can wager that with these skies, it will continue to be a spectacular day.

Sand that is wet or sand that is dry. Sand that is black or white as snow. Sand that is blowing or being dragged back to sea. Sand is a magnificently varying and shifting thing that requires as much observation as the waves, the clouds, the tide pools, and the shells. You never know what kind of patterns might greet you at a beach, so you should just plan to stop at them all as we try to do, even if it takes many years.

We’ve heard that it never rains here, and it’s perpetually sunny and warm; in our dreams. Now, if this were further south near Santa Barbara, California, that statement might be mostly true. Today meets our dreams of relatively warm and certainly very sunny.

Blue-gray lichen sitting on a branch…I thought as I started writing this that I was going to be able to carry it forward with a limerick, but it’s late as I press into the midnight hour in an attempt to finish writing this entry. Maybe someone else will come along and offer up some witty continuation of my half-hearted attempt.

This is the main highway traveling south, but I could be looking north for all I know. No matter which way I look, it appears to be quiet without the crush of traffic one would expect down south on the California coast. For all these years, visiting mostly in November, Caroline and I have often felt that the coast was ours.

Something (probably the waves) caught our eye (could have been the rocks), and so we pulled over (likely was the birds) and stopped a minute to have a look (you never know when you might see whales in the distance) and enjoy the sound of the ocean (oh yeah, the sound) and the little tide pools (well, we hope for tide pools because who doesn’t like seeing starfish) before getting back in the car to investigate what else is beckoning us from further south.

Ah, it was this trail that drew our attention and made us stop. Just look at this trail, the green, the blue, browns, and a path that takes the visitor to a spot to gaze at things from a perspective not yet seen. Certainly worthy of our attention and awe.

I know that this doesn’t look like a forest trail or an overlook from our previous stop; that’s because we moved on. As for what’s up the trail? That mystery is for you to solve should you be able to find it. As for what is in the picture? That’s my wife, Caroline, and that smile on her face is a legitimate bona fide smile that originates in her heart. I can affirm this fact with you because, after 26 years of exploring our world together, I can interpret those eyes better than anyone, including her. Those are the eyes of happiness (as worn by a nerd).

The tide is going down as the day grows late, and sea life is thrust into the open where its watery environs have temporarily abandoned it. I have to satisfy myself with these mussels because down here we’ve never seen chitons or sea cucumbers on the Oregon coast. Now, if we were up on the Straits of Juan de Fuca in Washington, I’d put money on finding me a chiton or two.

Tide pools rock. We never tire of seeing anemones, starfish, barnacles, sea snails, tiny crabs, and other tiny little seathings scurrying about. Too bad the tide has to return….then again.

We explored around those tide pools as long as we could, and then it was once again that time of day that suggested some dinner, and finishing the drive to our lodging was probably a good idea. I’m glad we did, too, because somewhere down the coast, this perfect spot to take a photo of the sunset presented itself as a kind of magic, making Caroline and I swoon in even deeper love as we bask in the incredulity that this should all be for us.

There were no yurts left at the Umpqua State Park and Lighthouse when I made my reservations, but luckily, there was a free unit down the road a mile or two. A visit to this lighthouse feels as close to a Thanksgiving tradition as Caroline and I get. We don’t care about turkey, family get-togethers, or football. We’re most content out on the coast sipping coffee between walking and exploring the beaches up and down this amazing state of Oregon.