Remote Self-Isolation

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Near False Klamath, California looking out at the Pacific Ocean

After spending nearly all day yesterday driving, we did more of the same today. With a destination 1,200 miles (1,930km) northwest of home, we broke up the segments into two nearly equal distances by driving from Phoenix, Arizona, to Fresno, California, yesterday, and then today, we finished the trek. It rained most of the day, at times coming down heavy, making for some white knuckle moments on the narrow Highway 101 through the Redwoods of Northern California. Normally, there’s nothing particularly troublesome about driving in a bit of rain but we’ve not seen the stuff since sometime earlier in the year, as in back in January or February. By the time late afternoon had rolled around, we were resigned to the imagined fact that it was going to rain all day, but then, just as we reached False Klamath on the ocean and our first opportunity to find ourselves oceanside, we were offered this view above.

Caroline Wise on the beach at Crescent City, California

But the sky wasn’t done with us yet as it cut itself in two with this bisection that seems to suggest, “Leave this gray from down south behind you as on your right and to the north, Oregon is about to smile upon you.” Had the heavens closed up after our first stop, we would have been content to have had a minute to admire the silver sea. Besides, who could have asked for a moment of molten gold ocean to pull us from the car just 20 minutes later? By the way, in an alternative universe, there is a similar picture of me in silhouette, as it was Caroline’s idea to snap a photo of me with her phone as I stood in the same place. Seeing her image, I told her to assume my position, and I took this one of her. On more occasions than I wish to publically admit, though that’s just what I’m doing right now, my wife has some really good ideas and is quite inspired. Just don’t tell her I said this, as it will all go to her head, while it’s her modesty that lends itself to her better qualities.

McVay Rock at sunset in Oregon

Our minds are blown as little could we have imagined that we’d make the southern Oregon coast by sunset and that we’d see it in all of its spectacular glory at an overlook we’d never visited. As I’ve shared before, this is our 20th visit to Oregon in the past 18 years, and while I might brag that we’ve seen every inch of this beautiful isolated stretch of the Pacific coast, on every visit, there seems to be just one more place that we’d somehow missed. Today, that stop was at the McVay Rock State Recreation Site, which is less than 3 miles from the Oregon and California state lines. How had we missed this?

Our final stop was a few miles up the Pistol River at the Fish Inn that we found on Airbnb. This place off the beaten path is more than a dozen miles away from the nearest town with Brookings to the south with its population of 6,465 and Gold Beach to the north and its population of 2,293. We’ll be spending the next few days on this 35-mile-long sparsely populated stretch of coast in a kind of remote self-isolation as we try to have as few encounters with other people as possible, minus the requisite stops at Dutch Bros. for coffee.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 6

JWise Food, Photo of the Day, Travels

We should have known just how cold it was going to be on the coast overnight when we found a second heater in our yurt. Both heaters ran all night, and by morning, when we ventured out of our cozy little den by the sea, the car was frozen over. The grasses on the way to the bathrooms were crunchy, and ice was everywhere. While waiting for the sun to show its face and the temperature to rise above 30 degrees, we took the opportunity to hang out for a while. I wrote, catching up a bit on filling in details about our second day out here, and Caroline continued knitting my next pair of socks using yarn she had bought in Portland on a previous trip.

Well aware that we were choosing comfort over clear skies, we pulled our tails out from between our legs and, like big dogs, left the nest to find adventure in the great unknown. Okay, so it isn’t really all that unknown by now after so many visits, but with my aging memory, almost everything I do these days feels like the first time ever. I’ll give you a tip about this strategy because it is, in fact, a strategy and not just the way things are for the old guy. You see, years ago, back when I was but a young man, I’d read from Herr Friedrich Nietzsche that the hardest thing for a person to learn is how to forget. So I’ve practiced this fine art of doing just that, forgetting. What advantage does this have, you probably are not asking. Bad restaurants continuously have the opportunity to be good, people I don’t really like are considered multiple times for friendship, and the really stupid shit I’ve said and done is relinquished to the good philosopher’s abyss where the monsters live.

Once we were out on the road it was over to our old standby Newport Cafe, opened 24/7, 365 days a year. This place has one of the best-mixed seafood scrambles. With far too much food in us, we needed an equal amount of walking to burn off some of the gratuitous calories. Out to the ocean at the Yaquina Bay State Recreation Site for a stroll on the ocean.

Silver sparkly reflections of our star bounce off of small pools of water while ripples in the sand cast shadows into the water, creating this kind of scene. The sun does many other amazing tricks with its commanding expertise of bedazzling us bipeds who have eyes and brains tuned just for this kind of pattern hunting where things out of the ordinary beg for us to examine them in great detail. What better way to carry something forward for further research than to snap a photo, take it home, and try to figure out just what it was that I saw in this scene that obviously enchanted me? Otherwise, why did I take 41 photos of essentially the same thing?

OMG, all this beachcombing has finally paid off with us finding this pristine and intact ancient crystal sea tentacle. We’d read about them in an old Assyrian papyrus scroll that, while of Middle East origin, was actually found intact in Pompeii, Italy, during World War II by Caroline’s marauding Nazi great uncle Siegfried Handarbeit and brought back to the Fatherland (now known as modern Germany). I know it’s hard to believe, but he brought back a couple dozen of these scrolls, one of which talks of a recipe for a kind of lamb taco that was a Turkish invention; who knew? Yet another speaks of predictions that were to happen in the coming 4,000 years, but that stuff is kind of sensitive, and we’re not ready to share that yet. Anyway, back to the crystal sea tentacle, it is said that the person(s) who come into possession of this Akkadian mystical relic will forever experience pure love. I can attest to the power of the myth as that is surely just the way it’s happening as I write these very words.

By now, I might have thought Caroline and I had already walked every major stretch of beach here in Oregon, but it turns out that there are large parts of it that are unexplored. Last year we had this recognition at Moolack Beach just north of here in Newport. The mouth of Yaquina Bay has a jetty we are walking towards as I look for an angle of the Yaquina Bay Bridge to photograph. Caroline is not bothered by this errand as she’s in love with bridges as much as she is with walking next to the surf, picking up small pieces of trash on the shore, staring at the birds eating crabs or those that run next to the edge of the pulsing shoreline or admiring the clear blue skies without a cloud in sight that seems to be a good indicator of what kind of weather we’ll have today.

This is the moment when I realized that these grasses that are always brown, in my experience, may not always be so. I wonder how different things would look if, instead of the warm browns, tans, and orangish colors of fall, things were in the vibrant hues of spring or early summer.

As we make our way down the jetty, we follow the rocky shore that continues along the bay ultimately passing under the bridge before a path on the other side brought us into the Newport Historic Bayfront. Many of these iconic bridges, such as this one right here, were designed by Conde Balcom McCullough back in the 1920s and ’30s. Sadly, in looking this information up, I learned that one of his designs, the Alsea Bay Bridge between Waldport and Bayshore, was stricken with fatigue as it aged and was replaced, which has me wondering how many of these iconic parts of the landscape will still be standing 20 years from now? There are remains of the old Alsea Bay Bridge at a wayside on the north end of the current bridge that I didn’t learn about until after our trip, and neither of us has seen it on the many crossings of the new bridge. Yet another reason to return to Oregon.

It’s Thanksgiving Day morning, so the streets of Newport here in the old town are empty. This works out perfectly for me as we can window shop, but there is no dipping into shops, or is there? These crab pots are ready to go to sea; just stuff in some bait before throwing them overboard, and the crab climbs in. Time for cranky old John to make an appearance in drawing a metaphor for the similarities between crabs and people as when you look at the box of plastic we call TV and fill it with the bait of some stupid show, watching the viewer crawl right in, trapped and ready to be used.

This is not a sea lion, not even a little bit. While to my right and just below us are at least a couple of dozen of the grunting, bellowing giants, most of them dozing on some floating docks. They are catching glimmers of the sun but are mostly in the shade. This makes photographing them particularly difficult, so instead of sharing a bad photo (yes, I am aware that any photo I post here could be seen as bad), I’m offering up this image of the ubiquitous seagull. I was surprised by its patience after I asked it to hang out, and it let me come closer to snap its photo. While it kept a close eye on me before heading aloft, I was able to get the sense that it might have been posing.

Say hello to Mr. Victor Firebear, originally of Montana but now a man with a wandering nature where anywhere might become home for a spell. Singing and playing violin streetside here on Thanksgiving, I gave a nod while raising my camera, silently asking if it was okay to snap a photo; he obliged me. Caroline and I hung out for a few songs of his spontaneous concert. This nomadic busker was incredibly gracious and enthusiastic about knocking out the songs for an appreciative audience that included us and a couple of women who were here representing Jehovah’s Witnesses. Mr. Firebear is half Northern Cheyenne and half Crow, with both parents having been full-blood Native Americans from their respective tribes. You should be so lucky to have the opportunity to hear this guy sing on a street corner some cold fall day; you can rest assured we extended our thanks to him for giving us this serenading.

By now, we were 4 miles into our walk, and it was well past noon. Back up the hill, over and around the old lighthouse, we returned to where we parked the car so we could go find lunch.

Caroline Wise burger in Newport, Oregon

It seems fitting to me in our non-traditional pursuit of Thanksgiving experiences that we should forego the staid old turkey and stuffing dinner and instead go back to the Newport Cafe for a Monster Burger. Weighing in at a puny 3 pounds, I let Caroline talk (coerce) me out of ordering the 8-pound Super Ultimate Monster that I’ve been wanting for YEARS!

Having had a late giant breakfast, we weren’t all too sure we were even hungry enough to finish the 3-pounder, yet we polished it off, leaving the bun as the only evidence that there had been a burger on this plate. With post-feasting naps typically not appreciated at restaurants and an abundance of great weather, we waste no time getting back on the road.

Ah, Moolack Beach by Moolack Shores Inn has fond memories for us. No time to walk this stretch of coast today, though, as we have some unscheduled unknown date with someplace up north that we’ll figure out when we get there should we find what it is we are looking for today.

This is the Otter Creek Loop that runs parallel to Highway 101 offering better viewing opportunities of the ocean. Did we find what we were looking for here? Not exactly, although places like this on days like this can come close to filling the gaps or refreshing memories of places we’ve been before, so there’s that. By the way, can you tell from the position this image was taken just after the curve on a one-way road that I might be “that guy” who doesn’t use a lot of caution when seeing a photo I must have?

Still on the Otter Crest Loop enjoying quiet roads with the majority of Americans safe at home with their families, watching football, getting stuffed, napping, and ultimately arguing before heading home, swearing off another Thanksgiving with all the accompanying drama.

While at Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint, we failed to find the creek, but this was our first time here, so we’ll simply have to make a return visit to pay closer attention to the finer details that skipped us by.

It is through Rocky Creek that we got to this overview of Whale Cove. Some years ago, near the edge of this cove, construction began on what would become a hotel called the Whale Cove Inn. It’s a great-looking place with a spectacular location, but at $500 a night and above, it remains out of our grasp. Sure, we could splurge and grab a couple of nights, but let’s get serious, as the $1,000 would pay for 21 nights in yurts up and down the coast. I guess this is where I should share our motto, “Live frugally and live large.”

Heading back through the Rocky Creek wooded area, there would be no glimpse of the Buffalo Bills, Detroit Lions, or Dallas Cowboys, who were all playing football today. How do I know what teams were playing? I had to look it up after the fact. There were glimpses of the ocean, a happy face on Caroline, a rich palette of colors basking in the sun, and walking with more walking that kept bringing us to a ton of ooh and aah moments. As I sit in a coffee shop writing this, I wish to feel the forest floor under my feet again.

Following some small roads through a residential neighborhood, we came across a small parking lot for Fishing Rock. There was no doubt that we’d have to take the walk. I can’t emphasize enough that Caroline and I are surprised by the number of places we’ve not visited yet. After so many trips up and down this coast, we feel that by now, we’ve likely seen the majority of locations where one can get out to gain a new perspective of the scenery, and yet that’s just what we’re doing over and over again.

A still wet, muddy, and steep segment of the Oregon Coast Trail heads down to the beach in front of us here at the Fishing Rock State Recreation Site. While we couldn’t walk this particular stretch of beach right in front of us, if you look well into the distance, we’ll be out there on Gleneden Beach, though we didn’t know it yet.

The trail here offers some great views, or maybe they’re only great to us because we’ve never seen them before. There are other parts of the trail that are falling into the ocean, which asks the question, how long until Fishing Rock is in the ocean swimming with the fishies?

Any other twisted gnarl of wood would be just that, but this is Oregon Coast Gnarl being bleached by the sun, salt, and sand, so in my eyes, this rises to the level of art.

Gleneden Beach was another one of those wandering around residential neighborhood finds. If the shadows don’t clue you into the time of day, the next photo will.

For the first time ever, Caroline and I are present at Gleneden Beach to watch the sunset. Of the multitude of places we could have been, this is where we ended up. One has to ask, how lucky was that?

Arriving at Siletz Bay for the remaining glow of sunset is a dream. I often wonder how these serendipitous moments just keep occurring in our lives. Make yourself available for life’s surprises and rewards, and the universe delivers. If you are smart, you’ll try to grab your fair share of the extraordinary as all too soon, it will all be extinguished as our fleeting encounter of knowing time comes to an end.

Dinner at Maxwell’s was meh in comparison to everything else that happened today, but Caroline was satisfied with her turkey dinner and craft beer. The yurt at Devils Lake State Recreation Site was kind of meh, too, as it is the one park on the coast that’s within city limits. The Lincoln City police were far too aggressive with the use of sirens here on Thanksgiving, disturbing the tranquility of the evening; maybe it was their anger at not being allowed to enjoy the day with their loved ones.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 4

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

We left our yurt at Umpqua Lighthouse State Park late this morning. Late for us anyway, as it was after 8:00. We might have been earlier had it not been for the sound of rain lulling us into wanting to stay snuggled in the warm luxury of our bed. A small heater has kept most of the cold at bay, and both electrical outlets were utilized to keep our stuff charged and my CPAP running. There is no toilet or shower in our yurt that sleeps five. There’s no mirror in here either, and due to the time of year, the window coverings are lowered in order to help insulate the place from the cold.

When we are finally forced to get up due to the demands of bladders that can take no more, we reluctantly peel out from underneath our down comforter. While we may sleep in what some will consider primitive conditions, our bedding consists of a Pendleton blanket on a cheap futon topped with a sheet, our pillows, and a down comforter inside a favorite duvet cover, which all adds up to luxury to our senses which are well experienced in the joys of coziness. The unheated shower and toilet facilities are across the way and have to be gotten to this morning in the near-freezing rain. Life is great.

Caroline Wise at Little Brown Hen Cafe in Florence, Oregon

We found breakfast nirvana on the Oregon coast, and it’s to be found at the Little Brown Hen Cafe in Florence. Never have we been so impressed with the first meal of the day here on this edge of the Pacific Northwest. While Portland certainly has its trendy joints across the city, the rest of the state can be a bit of a food desert. My Dungeness crab omelet topped with avocado paired with some amazing crispy real hash browns (meaning not the usual factory-made, bland Sysco type) was great, and Caroline’s avocado toast was so awesome that we knew we’d have to come back down the coast tomorrow for another breakfast right here. As we finished, Caroline, quite out of character, ordered a dessert for her meal, really pushing the boundaries of decadence. The brown rice pudding was too compelling to pass her by and was every bit as good as one might fantasize about.

Icy rain hitting our windshield in Florence, Oregon

It was forecast to rain the majority of the day yesterday, but somehow, we were spared. It was supposed to rain the majority of today and it did. Not only did it rain, but it snowed here on the coast, too. At first, we had some hints of how cold the rain was getting, as I noticed ice in some of the raindrops as they hit the windshield. We had to dip into Fred Meyers for a couple of things, and when we returned to the car, it seemed like it was getting colder. With more signs of ice, we sat mesmerized by how they struck the wet window, so we sat awhile watching a kind of liquid fireworks exploding on impact.

Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

With the wet weather not relenting, we decided to explore the cultural side of the Oregon coast with a visit to a local museum. Our destination was the Siuslaw Pioneer Museum, which is housed in the old Florence schoolhouse. While we took refuge from the rain, we saw snow flurries blow through, only to be long gone before they sat on the ground even a split second. If it hadn’t been accompanied by driving rain, it might have been fun to go out into it, but a cold 37-degree rain with a strong wind was playing a large part in why we were in the museum, so frolicking in the snow was out of the question.

Turns out that the local museum is a treasure of history from the immediate area with a terrific focus on life in Florence from the late 19th century through about the 1940s.

Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

Prior to us leaving for Oregon, a friend of ours brought up that he and his significant other are considering visiting Florence, Oregon, next year in recognition of the 50th anniversary of the exploding whale. Well, it just so happens that the museum here features a number of vertebrae from that whale that nearly killed people in this small town on the Oregon Coast. The story goes that a big, stinking dead carcass of a whale had been fouling the fine coastal aromas of the local seaside, and it had been decided to do something about the body. A wallop of explosives blew the thing into chunks, but some of them were so big that a nearby car was totaled in the mayhem as onlookers scrambled to find safety from the raining rotting blubber and meat that filled the sky. I’m sure that just like with the JFK assassination, people in the future will ask, “Where were you on the 50th anniversary of the exploding whale?” Hopefully, Caroline and I will be able to answer, “We were there, and it was like our generation’s Woodstock!”

Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

This driftwood framed sculpture is a sight to see, with hundreds of pieces fitted together just so. Most of them are out of frame, but I wanted to share some details in order to capture the organic feeling and great coloring of a piece of art made of found objects right out of the person’s environment that made this and another smaller work on display here.

Caroline Wise at the Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

An old unnamed loom is currently being worked by volunteers who come in to demo the art of weaving. As one might imagine from a museum focusing on the time frame, it is there are plenty of examples of items used to care for lives before the age of mass global production. To think that we used to have to make our own clothes and socks, find a neighbor who could repair shoes, play an instrument for music to be heard in our homes, and books so we could practice our literacy. Now, with all of our free time, we enjoy as work has been reduced to only 40 hours a week and the burden of things like acquiring food, transportation, and entertainment has been solved; it would appear that instead of gathering greater knowledge, we are content doing nothing of any real import.

Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

Back in the old days, people had friends who’d fawn over their bold fashion statements, and maybe that person would be the talk of the town as people spoke of the daring young lady who bought a fancy hat. How will future generations look back at our current time capture in a museum how somebody, making duck lips with clown makeup on with a camera held just so overhead so as not to capture any drooping facial features, posed in front of a place and generated the adoration of 100’s of thousands of followers and for a moment became famous to a bunch of other anonymous people?

Siuslaw Pioneer History Museum in Florence, Oregon

The man who built this bit of handicraft did so in his home over the course of a number of years. This represents an entire lumber mill in great detail and lucky us that the museum accepted his generous donation. We are reluctant to leave the museum as the snow continues with flurries here and there, but we need to get up the road.

Snow on the side of the road at Haceta Head in Oregon

On the drive up past Heceta Head, we encountered snow on the sides of the road. It isn’t all that much higher in elevation but obviously, it’s enough that the snow stuck around. It’s not even 4:00 p.m. at this point so I’m a bit nervous just how much colder it’s going to get and how low this snowline will go.

Caroline Wise in our Yurt at Carl G Washburne State Park in Oregon

Then, if the snow wasn’t enough when we arrived at our yurt at Carl G. Washburne State Park, we opened the door to find that there was no electricity to our unit. The camp host walks up after another minute carrying a lantern with him that he hands off to us, telling us that a nearby power line is down, cutting electricity to the entire camp, but it should be repaired tonight.

Well, now, do we take our chances and stay or grab a hotel room? We’re wondering this as not only will it be in the very low 30s tonight, but without electricity, my CPAP will be rendered useless. The decision is to wait until after dinner up the road in Yachats and decide things then. Before dinner, though, we need a coffee, so without many choices, we stop at a diner to camp out at a table to knit, write, and sip coffee. We’re not there 10 minutes before I get a text from my little sister up in Seattle telling us to be careful regarding the “Bomb Cyclone.” Great, one-hundred-miles per-hour winds are expected on the Oregon Coast down to Northern California.

Oregon coast between Carl Washburne and Yachats, Oregon

While it took a while to learn the boundaries of this rapidly forming surprise storm, it only made things more interesting regarding our options. If we chose to return to the yurt and see how things played out, we might need to get in the car in the wee hours for a drive north or south. Both directions would suck as the north would take us out around Cape Perpetua while on the southern route, we’d be back out on Heceta Head. Either way would put us deep in trees and close to some cliffsides. Turns out that the storm is only supposed to affect Oregon up to about Coos Bay, where we were yesterday. Inland, the southern part of the state, is supposed to see some heavy snow, but we should be good up here.

Finally ready for some dinner, we visited Luna Sea Fish House, also here in Yachats, for a bowl of steamers and an order of fish and chips made from halibut. Learning that they open at 10:30 in the morning has me reconsidering whether we’ll return to Little Brown Hen or opt for more crispy, deep-fried fish and garlicky clams. We skipped dessert as we reversed the order of things by having a hot cinnamon roll with our coffee at the diner; we were on vacation, after all.

Back at the yurt, the electricity was on, the rain was still falling but the winds were being held back with the forest calm and cold on this late fall day. Tomorrow, the weather might be cloudy, but the rain is supposed to subside. It’s 9:15 p.m., and our eyes are falling shut.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 3

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Smith River near Bolon Island in North Bend, Oregon

Saturday and Sunday came on with a speed of wow as the sun catapulted Caroline and me into near-constant motion. With expected rain replaced by delightful blue skies, we used every moment to wander in the good fortune raining down upon our shoulders. After a weekend of this warm embrace by Oregon, we let ourselves celebrate that if this were the totality of our vacation we’d be satisfied by what we’ve already had. We also know that come next Sunday, after we’ve been out here for nine days, we’ll be lamenting that it’s already over.

Bolon Island, Oregon

Today we face a chance of rain, except we’ll never let it put a damper on our enthusiasm. We come to Oregon at this time of year by choice with the full knowledge we are flirting with the encounter of what others would call bad weather. We see this as offering us a full break from the oppressive nature of our Arizona summer while satisfying our need for winter.

Smith River near Bolon Island in North Bend, Oregon

The only problem that can really impact our time out here is that we are too busy and consequently too tired to tend to our respective crafting objectives. Caroline is always ready with the knitting needles, and me with a pen and paper or the virtual version which utilizes the keyboard I’m writing with right now.

Winchester Bay, Oregon

Heavier clouds are trading places with the bit of sun that moments ago was still smiling on us through the windows of where we were having breakfast. We need to put getting caught up with this side of our vacation on pause and leave the comfort of the great indoors for the adventure of the great outdoors.

Bridge at North Bend, Oregon

Our attempt at finding something to do started with Bolon Island, which wasn’t very well marked, so after a short drive up the river, we turned around and tested fate by driving the nearly 30 miles south to the South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston. With a 70% chance of rain today, we figured that no matter what we did, we’d be in our raincoats, but the weather held for our drive.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

The Seven Devils Road that passes the slough has been driven by us more than a few times, but never did we put things together that up in this mountainous terrain, a path would cut through the forest, taking us down to sea level. There are a number of different trails that take us out to the slough, and with the threat of looming heavy clouds offshore, we choose an out-and-back trail that, if the weather proves too inclement, we can see a small corner of the wetlands and head back to the trailhead.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Down the often steep trail, the forest is dripping on us more than the sky. Another vibrant green magical environment has been discovered enchanting us with our first encounter. The path has been cut through a hillside that verges on a cliffside where the growth is so thick there are patches that look as though it’s the evening in there. Deeper we venture.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

We cross a few bridges and, along the way, see some of the densest mushroom groves we’ve ever seen, veritable forests of mushrooms. Ferns, mosses, rotting multicolored leaves, barren branches, and evergreens are seen in every direction.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

It dawns on me that had Bolon Island been better marked, we may have spent the morning there, and while on some future visit, we might still learn that we missed something grand there, we are astonished in being here. That word, astonishment, is likely used a bit too frequently here on my blog, just as beauty, love, wonderment, and a few more that lend themselves to extolling the sense of wow are also used more than I might wish.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Do you think these mushrooms make my blog look fat?

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Let me beat a drum I’ve played on with many a previous blog entry where I’ve had to fawn over the people who cut these trails, built boardwalks, hauled steel and concrete into remote and difficult-to-access corners of our country so that on some random weekend people from all walks of life and a multitude of countries can take a leisurely stroll in nature.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

How many people who live in western Oregon would question what is so appealing about this environment blanketed in luscious green moss? If they came to the Arizona Desert would their own poor vocabulary be reduced to a few superlatives used to exclaim their surprise at the contrast to what they know from back home? Then again, they may be part of the majority who travel over our planet and fail to see the intrinsic beauty to be found in every corner, even in the humble tumbleweed.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

It’s not until we are approaching sea level and an overlook of the estuary that the rain starts to come down, and for a minute, it really comes down, but only for a minute. That one-minute cloud burst was nearly it, though we’d have one more moment of drizzle before we made the decision regarding which trail we’d take to return to our car.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Before that, we have plenty more to explore down here, where saltwater pushes deep inland to mix with fresh water. Much to our surprise, considering we feel like we are in the mountains or at least tall hills, we can hear the ocean from here. It makes sense when one considers this being an estuary and all, but it feels seriously far from the ocean.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

There are remnants of an old rail line down here that was used for logging back long ago when all of the Redwoods were being removed from the coast. It’s as though our ancestors might have thought those trees were an ugly blight on the landscape that required clearing away for some faster-growing trees that could help create a thriving land-rape economy. That was back when fishing, too, was a lucrative business here on the coast. As long as greed was able to function, the rape continued unabated until depletion set it. Of course, depletion is just code for government intervention and control from Washington D.C. at the expense of jobs for hard-working people. If you think about this for a moment, if we are going to rape the land, why would we not want to rape the sea too? And seeing that our oceans are so much bigger, we’ve been able to do a lot more raping.

Maybe you are thinking that the smiling face of the guy in the red handknitted cap can’t be all that grumpy to talk in such dire terms about how we treat the land and sea? I am, after all, an aging white guy, born in upstate New York, married to a German (and we all know about their history), so I must be part and parcel of the herd of idiots who interpret everything through the filter of conspiracy and that the “man” is trying to keep down the righteous working man, right? Fucking wrong. I’m a tree-hugging (cactus, too) liberal bent on giving away everyone else’s hard-earned money to welcome the illegal alien zombie apocalypse onto our shores with free university and health care for ALL their babies as long as the trees and trails are kept clean by their children who are stealing all of our janitorial jobs.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Can you recognize the smoke coloring the reflection of the clouds in the water? That smoke is from the piles of unwanted tree-shit that are being burned to ash across the way where they are clear-cutting my soul. The haze of obfuscation created by lies might be another apt description.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

This is the end of our trail as it has tipped over, taking our path with it. All of a sudden, I start to have images of the narrow spit of land we are walking on doing the same, and I have to fight the urge to flee.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Caroline, on the other hand, took off running. No, she didn’t, but that’s about the extent of the humor I can bring to this part of the story.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

About now, I start thinking, even asking myself, why am I including so many photos that I’ll feel compelled to write about? The answer is easy: I have to because if I were reading my blog and saw these photos, I’d start to recognize that these moments are just one small part of a single day. If all of these beautiful images represent approximately nine late-fall/early-winter hours of this couple’s day on the coast, then imagine what a person could experience if they were out on the Oregon Coast on a summer day when visitors receive nearly 16 hours of daylight!

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Not only would this visitor be able to explore the coast nearly every waking moment, but they’d typically do so in the effervescent brilliance of sunlight instead of the muted tones of an overcast day. So why don’t we see that luxury? Because we also understand this wetland would be infested with mosquitoes and overrun by families and pets screaming and shitting on every surface, meaning the soundscape and the trail my boots must go. At this time of year, the earth is primordial and apparently inhospitable to those who only find comfort in front of a television or smartphone. The earth is thus given over to Caroline and me alone.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

We opted for the long way back. Enjoying each and every sight and smell down here, we could have stayed all day, though we felt we were still racing against the rain that would return. The rain never materialized after that earlier quick soaking; good thing we stopped the night before to pick up a raincoat for me just in case.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

Some might see this scene as inanimate, but I see the person at home as having less life than plants. I’ve heard the stories that people cannot afford to travel like we do, that we are especially lucky. I can hardly believe that, though, seeing we are a high school graduate and a high school dropout. We didn’t inherit money, nor do we live off a trust fund, and yet this is our 211th venture away from home in the past 20 years. I simply think that people do not want to have a life outside of their convenient excuses used for why they can’t afford anything. The truth is they desire the bitterness of being a victim because of the lack of discipline to get what they want from life. Without an imagination fueled by reading and learning, their mind’s eye withers into a myopic cyclopean deformity stuck in the tunnel vision of repetition.

South Slough National Estuarine Research Reserve in Charleston, Oregon

I feel like I’ve gone off-trail, and I’m ranting as I’m apt to do when I can’t leave well enough alone and rely on some flowery language to describe the oohs and aahs of delight found by my sappy side that would be well adorned with flowers in my hair. This is one of the pleasures of blogging for nobody but myself as, in my view, nobody ever reads these missives anyway, so I could just as well write blah blah and get the same response. Someday though, when I’m old and no longer able to put myself in these situations where we’re exploring nature or I’m looking down my nose at the masses, I’ll have Caroline or my newest smartphone reading this crap back to me so I can relish how pretentious I was in my mid-50’s.

North Bend Oregon driving toward Horsfall Beach

Hmmm, pretentiousness is kind of like the road to nowhere in that it will not bring your soul to happiness, just as the road to nowhere will not take you to a place. But what if the road to the unknown is painted in golden and silvery light? I suppose the destination can only be deciphered by what you’ve brought with you in your head that can be used to interpret what you’ve seen.

Bridge at North Bend, Oregon

The metaphors across the landscape keep coming, but how will I use this bridge to help fill the story of this third day exploring the coast? How about I give it a break and let you know that this bridge is being posted for no other reason than it is one of Caroline’s all-time favorite bridges as far as iron structure, color, form, and placement between land areas are concerned.

Horsfall Beach in North Bend, Oregon

This photo right here would have been a great finish to the day with a kind of Eye of Horus look of things, but we weren’t done with using every ounce of daylight that was offering us different perspectives of the universe around us.

Horsfall Beach in North Bend, Oregon

A portal or bay window on our spaceship is showing us the horizon of a distant planet. Instead of finding these views on the movie screen, we have opted to find them in reality.

South Umpqua Jetty in Winchester Bay, Oregon

That’s rain in the distance with the approaching storm blotting out our sun and our hope of seeing the stars. There’s a silver lining here (or gold in our case): if it rains, it’ll make our last night here at Umpqua Lighthouse all the better as the patter of raindrops on a canvas yurt is the elixir of sleep.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 2

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline Wise and John Wise on the Oregon Coast in 2019

When starting the day on an Oregon beach, we don’t need the sun to make our faces shine. These smiles are produced by location, love, and the thrill of being able to wear warm clothes that rarely come out of storage in Arizona. This is south of Face Rock in Bandon, the same stretch of beach we were on yesterday during the sunset.

This is European Beachgrass, an invasive species found here on the Oregon Coast. We only recently learned of its negative effects on the coastline and how it changes the habitat in some radical ways. Still, I find it beautiful.

With a good long walk down the beach, we feel better about heading out for breakfast. A few other people with dogs and a young couple with an enthusiastic toddler were the only others out here this morning. For decades, Caroline and I have seen the sad reality that given the option of waking late, staying cozy next to a TV, and minimizing the effort of getting out, people opt for just that. While this lazy behavior has offered us quiet walks on beaches from the North Sea to Hawaii, I still can’t help but lament how uninspired the general population feels to me, with empty beaches perfectly exemplifying our state of woeful affairs.

Stewart Lane seemed like a nice shortcut through the woods, but wouldn’t you know it that the not-so-trusty GPS maps that show the gravel road connecting to another backroad we’d like to take no longer goes through. So, was Stewart Lane a waste of time? Nope, we quite enjoy these little forays into the abyss of having gone nowhere.

That backroad we were just on that took us nowhere was supposed to connect to Lower Four Mile Lane, which looked like it might let us get to a section of the sea we’d never visited. By the end of the lane, we turned around, having failed to find access. Just as we were giving up, a small sign (not this one shown above) caught my eye that directed us to the Four Mile Creek Trail. Skirting the edge of private property (see above sign), we took a nice short walk towards the Pacific.

Four Mile Creek enters New River as seen standing on a giant piece of driftwood. This was about as far as we got as New River stopped us from venturing further. Had we brought a couple of handy dandy foldup kayaks with us, we could have crossed the narrow river over the island you can make out on the right. Instead, we stood around enjoying the sound of the crashing surf we couldn’t see and imagined the adventures that could have been had on the deserted island.

This is the biggest piece of driftwood we may have ever seen. This gray hunk of whale size tree is the hulking remnant of a Redwood. How’d this get so far up the coast from California, you might wonder? So did we.

It turns out there used to be Redwoods in Oregon, and supposedly, there’s still a very small grove tucked away, but due to people’s efforts to harvest every single tree of size, ensuring there are no old-growth forests remaining on earth, Oregon is no longer known as a place that is home to these majestic trees. A local told us this tree is rumored to have been sitting right here for about 100 years now. What a sad and tragic reminder of how quickly we are ready to despoil our lands and oceans in order to move money around.

This may look like where we just were, but it’s a mile down the road. It’s still the New River, but it’s in a section of the park that once was called the New River Nature Center but appears to be the New River A.C.E.C. now, which stands for Area of Critical Environmental Concern.

This is one of the few mushrooms that was still standing upright. While there are signs everywhere asking visitors not to harvest mushrooms, they are of little good as that is exactly what is happening here every day. What isn’t stolen by people looking for a cheap meal or sold to others is knocked over to spore more growth so the next harvest is better than the previous. While we were here, we saw a group of three people from California parked next to the road, one of the passengers getting out with a backpack disappearing off-trail into a thicket to poach mushrooms.

Fortunately, moss and lichen are not very palatable. While some are edible and are eaten by people in the Arctic, they are left alone by humans here along the coast.

If only the mushroom hunters would stock up on these and devour a toxic dose that would remove them from the gene pool. Leave the wild mushrooms for visitors to wildlands, you ugly thieves of nature, and give greater opportunity to tourists to find more reasons to return, thus leaving their dollars in your local community. The same goes for the clear-cut trees, but I’ve written about that before.

To someone walking along the path, this is a beautiful sight. It’s a rare sight that must be sought after, as the majority of trailside mushrooms have been kicked over and broken into 20 pieces.

Manzanita trees feel as amazing as they look. How we could walk by them and not stroke their luxuriously smooth surfaces is beyond my imagination because once you touch manzanita, the manzanita has stroked your senses.

Can you tell that I decided to bring the macro lens with me? Hmmm, did I already mention this in the previous entry? Oh well, so now you know for certain it is with me, and you should expect a few images that look at things in greater detail than previous blog entries about Oregon. Far too often, I’m focused on the landscape with a look to the ocean as we are entirely enchanted with those views, and having more of them for our memories is quite satisfying, but we also are in love with the many details we see in between along the way.

There are maybe a dozen large-sized cities on the 363-mile-long Oregon coast. The largest is Coos Bay, with about 16,000 people, so by large city standards, these are small towns. While the more typical nationwide chains have some presence out here, such as Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Walmart, we are never very far from nature. Once out on a trail or a quiet stretch of beach, it feels as though we are even further removed from the rush of city life, not that there’s a lot of that here anyway.

Finding the images that will feature not only the visual impact made by the many vistas but also those things that are integral parts of a complex landscape that is so much more than trees and ocean is a large part of my exercise. Just what needs to be seen that will fill the gaps of intricacies that are easily overlooked?

Branches reaching out leafless and white serve what purpose here in the forest? Do they have a method of using nutrients that offer a symbiotic relationship to some part of the ecosystem that is invisible to the casual observer? What are the light green golf tee looking like things? I think they are a fungus, but don’t really know.

Dendrites come to mind when looking at these branching arms.

Newts on trails seem like a bad mix but are welcome hiking buddies that make us smile. Astute readers will know that it’s likely everything we see puts smiles on our faces. If I think about that for more than the second it takes to write such optimistic thoughts, I’d have to take pause and find honesty that litter and dog shit definitely do not put smiles on our faces; scowls come to mind.

The dock at Port Orford would be the one southerly point on the coast we try to get to if we are within 50 miles of it. In bad weather, this spot is a dynamic churn of chaos that has astonished us with its fury. During calm seas, the idea of heading out of the small bay for a day of fishing is an attractive fantasy that maybe one day we could be heading out with a local skipper. Behind me is Griffs on the Dock, which serves up some decent seafood, and on my side are some water tanks where a local entrepreneur has taken to growing red dulse, which is an edible alga.

Most of these fishing boats have been here for years and the majority of them we recognize from year to year. One of the guys who captains the red one there in the middle of them all told us how the boat to his right is owned by his brother. That turquoise boat was rescued from salvage for a steal after it had flipped and bobbed in the surf, tearing it mostly apart a bit further up the coast. We were talking to him as we noticed that for the past couple of years, the crab pots that are usually on the dock haven’t been out. He informed us that the season has been getting a later and later start due to the small size of crabs that need to reach a certain size to harvest.

It’s kind of funny that for the many times we’ve been down here on this dock, we’ve never seen one of these boats in the water. Maybe we could time a future visit to coincide with them pulling a boat or two out of the water.

Humbug Mountain is about 50 miles north of California, and it is the furthest point south we’ll travel on this vacation. We’ve been meaning to climb the trail up this bulwark even though we’ve read it doesn’t offer any spectacular views, but to date haven’t been able to fit it in. On another occasion, we had the time but didn’t have the gear for the amount of rain that was coming down.

When we pulled over on the north end of the mountain next to the road, we jumped over a barrier that keeps cars from careening off the cliff, though there are plenty of other locations to do just that if this were your inclination. Expecting dirt and trash, we were surprised by the moss and something else that I’ll show you after the next photo of a sunset.

I could have skipped this gratuitous inclusion of yet another sunset photo as there’s another that shares some similarity to this one, but the warmth, clouds, golden glow, and fog in the distance are so enchanting I just had to share it.

Bear tracks. We had no idea that we’d ever really see bear tracks this close to the ocean and on a cliffside next to the road, that means it had to cross that highway to get over here.

So the story behind the inclusion of this sunset photo that shares some resemblance with the one above is that this one has Brush Creek illuminated by the setting sun, and Caroline insisted I take this photo for her.

Here we are back in Port Orford because one can never visit this town too often. The particular stop is at Battle Rock Wayside and is the same place Caroline lost her phone on a previous visit.

This is why one can never visit Battle Rock Wayside too often. The timing of being here at low tide for sunset was not planned for. Other than where we are staying, there was no fixed itinerary for what we might be doing while up here in Oregon. The hope is to find new things to do should we realize that we’ve visited a particular location one too many times, but like all previous visits, we drop in on our familiar haunts with all the enthusiasm as though it’s the very first time we’ve ever seen the place.

I’d swear Caroline is in another world when she’s at the ocean. I’d love to know her perspective and how she sees this seascape in front of her. While I look for photos, sounds, words, and other things to record in my mind to convey here at some future date should I find the time, Caroline is over somewhere else searching and observing her happy place in a way I can never fully appreciate. She’s never gone long, I should point out, as we reconnect every few minutes and then walk together for a while, sharing a kiss, a hug, a snuggle, an exchange of words that profess our love for each other.

Are these the same gooseneck barnacles we’ve seen here before? The likelihood is pretty good that they are, as some barnacles can live as long as ten years.

At home in Phoenix, Caroline works hard and often long hours but one of the luxuries of having committed so much to learn to do what she does is that she usually has great benefits. While health care takes greater and greater importance in our lives as we age towards our 60’s it is time off that is the best reward. Knowing how to use that rare commodity for things other than the mundane becomes our greatest treasure, and getting out for traveling is the best use of that time we know. If Caroline could correct me here on the blog, she would likely add that having time at home for weaving, spinning, knitting, and other fiber-related arts is also of importance to her.

One of our encounters where the smiles at the situation become too much to bear for one person, and to balance the load we reach out to each other and blurt something or other out about how lucky we are or how much we love each other. There’s a lot of telling each other how much love we feel and how happy we are to be out here once again.

Starfish were in short supply on our last couple of visits, but they have bounced back this year. The tide also appears to be one of the lowest we’ve ever witnessed here. These windows into coastal life are extraordinary but could be so much more interesting if Oregon were to recognize the value of knowledge sharing out here and give us digital docents so we could listen to audio tours of information regarding each section of the coast we are visiting. Explain to us how clear-cutting helps the environment or business or whatever. Give us info about the wildlife refuges and estuaries. Bring in marine biologists to tell the stories of the ebb and flow of habitats and species.

If this isn’t a sexy pose, I don’t know what is. It looks kinda hot, huh?

Chitons are the kevlar of the sea. At least, I’m fairly sure they are bulletproof. This type is known as Katharina Tunicata or, more commonly, the black Katy chiton. I’ve read they were good eating by indigenous California tribes but how they are harvested is beyond me.

As I said, we’ve never seen the water this low. By now, we are only enjoying the setting sun as checking out the wildlife has grown more difficult in the fading light.

We took a good long time to leave the Battle Rock Wayside here at Port Orford, even though we knew we had a long drive ahead of us. Not too long but long enough, plus we would need to stop for dinner.

Dinner was back in Coos Bay and was another forgettable meal at a place not worth mentioning, but we’re not here for culinary delights. Our lodging this evening is close to the Umpqua Lighthouse in the state park that bears its name. This is our first night in a yurt on this trip; two nights will be spent right here while we’ll be in various yurts for a total of five nights this week. While it’s difficult to see in this photo when it’s presented so small, there are many a star in the sky this evening. What else can’t be shared is the strange silence of the light penetrating the night sky and illuminating the fog and flashing on the trees as the light turns. Somehow, it feels like the two white and one red light should have some kind of tone or pulsing sound as it slices through the darkness.

Number 19 of 17

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Caroline Wise and John Wise on the Oregon Coast November 2018

Here, at the last minute, we decided that we’d go north. The destination we are heading to is Oregon, the coast specifically; it will be our 19th visit during the past 17 years. Only seven of the previous journeys into the state were made outside of late fall and winter, with our inclination to spend time on the rocky coast during the quiet season. The photo of us above is from last year somewhere along the Oregon coast.

Three Arch Rocks March 2002

Trip 1: Back in March 2002, we made our first visit to the Oregon coast and were smitten within minutes of arrival. This is the view from Three Arch Rocks National Wildlife Refuge, seen from Oceanside Beach near Maxwell Point.

Cleetwood Trail Crater Lake July 2002

Trip 2: By July of the same year, we were once again underway on our way up through California on our way to Oregon. It was the long 4th of July, 2002, and we now knew that the drive that far north wasn’t all that difficult, so off we went. The trail took us past a remote corner of Death Valley, through a ghost town, and up to Crater Lake National Park before we turned around to race home to Phoenix, Arizona.

Mount Hood November 2002

Trip 3: Hey, it’s now November 2002, and we’ve just gotten started exploring Oregon with so much left to find. Here’s Caroline standing in an ice-cold mountain stream at the foot of Mount Hood. If you think freezing cold water phases my wife, you’d be sadly mistaken. We are now attempting to see all four corners of the state and the interior, so we have a better idea of exactly where we want to return to on future visits.

Harris Beach Yurt and Caroline Wise in Oregon November 2003

Trip 4: November 2003 and where better to go than back to Oregon. In the intervening time between visits, we’d learned that more than a few state parks along the coast have yurts as part of their accommodation offerings. Back then, they were incredibly cheap in our eyes and seemed romantic from afar. With this here, our first night staying in a yurt, we fell in love faster than it took to unlock the front door. We knew we were hooked. This photo of Caroline was taken at Harris Beach near Brookings, Oregon.

Horses near the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon

Trip 5: Barely six months had gone by before the call of Oregon summoned us back. Emboldened by the ease we were getting to places we thought were too far for 5 to 7 days, we took on this July 2004 summer drive back to Crater Lake. From there, we headed over the Columbia River and up to Washington to see Mount Rainier before driving out to Olympic National Park. Our return was via Oregon and California back to Phoenix, where the scorched desert awaited us. The photo was taken somewhere between John Day and the Columbia River in Oregon.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Dutch Bros in Grants Pass, Oregon

Trip 6: This one was almost missed as we were only in Oregon for 2 hours after leaving the Redwoods down in California to head up to Grants Pass for a cup of Dutch Bros. coffee. It seemed like a great idea at the time. November 28, 2004.

Cape Meares Lighthouse in Oregon May 2005

Trip 7: May 2005, and it was time to share our affinity with the Pacific Northwest with my mother-in-law, Jutta. With Caroline and I now quite familiar with some “best of” places, we took her mom to Death Valley, the Redwoods National Park, up the coast of Oregon into Washington, and then over to Glacier National Park in Montana before dropping into Yellowstone for her second visit to that park and then down across Utah before stopping for her first-ever visit to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The photo is of the Cape Meares Lighthouse near Tillamook, Oregon.

Caroline Wise at Cape Ferrelo Viewpoint in Brookings, Oregon

Trip 8: Oh, it’s Thanksgiving, and there’s no better way to escape family obligations around the holidays than for us to be out on the road. November 2006 was the witness to this short 7-day excursion up through San Francisco with a quick jaunt into Oregon for a couple of days before heading down to Santa Cruz, California, to spend some time on that coast, too. The photo of Caroline was taken at the Cape Ferrelo Viewpoint near Brookings, Oregon.

Carl Washburne State Park in Oregon November 2007

Trip 9: This is becoming a trend where we pack things up for a road trip that somehow keeps ending up in Oregon in November because here we are in 2007, testing the question of, “Will it be boring this time?” The answer was a resounding “NO!” This photo was taken in the Carl G. Washburne Memorial State Park, home of the most southerly temperate rain forest in the United States.

Rocks rising above the water in Siletz Bay, Oregon

Trip 10: You can pass Siletz Bay near Lincoln City, Oregon, one hundred times, and this view will always look different. I’m not sure we’ve stopped here that many times, but on this November 2008 trip along the coast, we were taken by the silhouettes etching out a perfect scene as our day was coming to a close. It was difficult choosing this photo of Siletz Bay when this was also the trip up the coast that had us stopping at the Devils Churn near Cape Perpetua for a sight that enchanted us for a solid hour or more. Click here to see an image from the Churn that is still one of my favorites.

Caroline Wise Kayaking in Garibaldi, Oregon September 2011

Trip 11: Oh my, it’s been three years since last we visited Oregon though we have great excuses why we couldn’t make it. In 2009, we visited Yellowstone National Park for the first time during winter. In May of that year, my mother-in-law Jutta spent two weeks with us in the Eastern United States. In 2010, we visited Yellowstone in January again, as the year before was so fascinating. Then, later in the year, we rafted the Colorado River through Grand Canyon National Park for nearly three weeks. Enjoying the idea of boating, we stretched out on our 10th trip to Oregon for some kayaking here in Garibaldi in September 2011.

Near Heceta Head Lighthouse in Oregon November 2011

Trip 12: A second visit in one year is kind of extraordinary, but we apparently have an addiction problem, and I don’t mean mushrooms. This trip saw us bringing a friend along as maybe they can corroborate our sense of amazement for Oregon or they can point out why our regard is too high, and we can back off this incessant need to visit the state every chance we get. The mushroom was photographed near Heceta Head Lighthouse in Florence, Oregon, in November 2011.

Oregon Coast November 2012

Trip 13: Rafting in Alaska this summer wasn’t enough for us, so here we are in November 2012 for our 12th visit to Oregon. With some research, information about the location of this photo could be found but I’m feeling kind of lazy about this time in trying to write this blog. You see, when I started this entry, I thought we’d made 14 visits, but then I discovered a few more trips about which, for one reason or other, I never blogged. With no photos posted here, I had just assumed my blog showed all of our visits; wrong.

South Coast of Oregon May 2013

Trip 14: Out with my daughter Jessica in May 2013 because we’d never seen the state of Oregon with her in our company; seemed like as good a reason as any.

Oregon Sunset November 2015

Trip 15: It’s that time of year again. Here we are in November 2015, and once again it’s Oregon on our minds. We missed last year due to me starting a new company to build a Virtual Reality world, only to end up neglecting ours. True, we did raft the Yampa River up in Colorado and Utah with friends, and we visited Los Angeles and San Francisco during 2014, but it was truly the slowest travel year we’d experienced in over a dozen years.

Depoe Bay, Oregon November 2016

Trip 16: November 2016, did you think there was any chance we’d miss the opportunity to visit Oregon at this time of year?

Caroline Wise at Rockaway Beach, Oregon April 2017

Trip 17: Are we bored yet? Do we look bored? One doesn’t ride the wild corn dog if things are not top-notch. April 2017 marks the first time ever we’ve been in Oregon during this month: wow! So now we’ve visited this amazing state in March, April, May, July, September, and November, leaving only six other months we’ll have to plan visits for. Where do you find this exhilarating ride? In Rockaway Beach.

Boiler Bay in Oregon November 2018

Trip 18: By now, you must have already guessed that this was shot in November 2018. If you guessed that date, you win a trip with us to Oregon on one of our next visits. You just have to pay your way and pass a compatibility test with us grizzled travelers, and maybe you’ll be out exploring such fantastic sights such as this one on a late afternoon at Boiler Bay near Depoe Bay, Oregon.