Oregon – Page 11 – John Wise

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 8

November 30, 2019 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Wheeler, Oregon

Deep down, I was hoping for poor weather with bland gray skies after I saw how cold it was outside. Instead, I need to bundle up and brave the elements in order to capture a view I want to remember forever. While difficult to make it out in this image, there is a ton of ice on those docks, the matter of fact is that everything is covered in frosty ice out here.

Wheeler, Oregon

This is the opposite view of where I was just looking; I hope you can sense the appeal we feel when we are passing over the road out of view on my right that we typically keep driving over as we pass through Wheeler. Enough of the great outdoors for now, as the fireplace in our room is required to bring me back to that toasty warmth and comfort of our room with a view.

Wheeler, Oregon

We had to wait for the clock hands to approach the nine o’clock hour as our breakfast joint didn’t open till then. Even so, it was difficult leaving our spot next to the fire compared to the previous days in slightly chilly yurts where once outside of our down comforter, most of our sense of the cozy was broken, and we had more to gain by bailing out of the yurt and heading for breakfast or just accepting the cold and going on a walk next to the ocean.

Wheeler, Oregon

I suppose for someone who lives in a location where winter is a normal occurrence, photos such as these are well understood and are simply a part of your normal. For Caroline and I, they are extraordinary appearances of something not well understood and even somewhat forgotten.

Wheeler, Oregon

Ice crystals sprouting off of leaves, is this magic or what? What should have only been about a 5-minute walk to the bakery takes more and more time as we pause to investigate this phenomenon known as the approach of winter.

Wheeler, Oregon

Handy Creek Bakery here in Wheeler was our breakfast stop. We have to blurt out that this place is noteworthy and that it will become a regular stop on future visits to this corner of America. If you are in a hurry, this is not the place for you, and you should go elsewhere. How slow? We spent a total of 90 minutes here before paying our bill. Of course, we complicated things by starting with coffee and a warmed homemade cinnamon roll, followed by our breakfast proper before total indulgence set in, requiring us to share a brioche with strawberry mascarpone. A type of pastry that I believe I could survive on for the rest of my life. I will forever now ask my wife why I let her talk me out of taking a half dozen of them for the road.

Regarding the frozen puddle pictured above that intrigued us so much with its weird patterns, it took a bit of thinking, but I think I figured it out. As the temperature drops overnight and the edges of the shallow puddle start to freeze, it pulls in water from the deeper section, creating a ridge of ice that appears as a ring. This pattern continues toward the center until most, if not all, of the water from the puddle is absorbed by the ice above.

Manhattan Beach, Oregon in Tillamook County

Our shadows are bundled up and snuggling, trying to stay warm as they explore the shore, free of the whining owners who are waiting in the car with the heater on.

If you are wondering how we got this crab to stop and pose for us, you’d be mistaken. It is dead with its life force sucked right out or pecked, depending on how accurate I should be. The shell was upside down with NO legs attached whatsoever, just another victim of a seagull that plucked it from its watery reality and used it for sustenance. A bit further down the beach, we spotted the legs scattered about, probably distributed by waves that were moving them around. We collected the puzzle parts and Frankenstein-like tried putting it back together, but without a heart, this crab wasn’t continuing its journey down the yellow brick road. It was a dead end.

Manhattan Beach, Oregon in Tillamook County

While patterns are everywhere in life, there are some that are more appealing to the aesthetics of each human being. Caroline and I happen to be in lockstep when it comes to tripping out of crazy patterns left in the sand by things such as water flowing over its surface or footprints left by some creature or other.

Manhattan Beach, Oregon in Tillamook County

We rarely find an intact sand dollar on the shore, though that doesn’t stop us from looking for the next perfect exemplar of its species that I’d want to carry home with me.

Manhattan Beach, Oregon in Tillamook County

We’ve been exploring Manhattan Beach here in Tillamook County on our way back south. Why are we backtracking? We arrived last night in the dark, and our destination to the north is only 18 miles from the lodge, so we might as well be certain if we’ve seen all that we should have. This particular beach is just north of Rockaway Beach, which is another location we’ve stayed at along the Oregon coast, but this stretch of the ocean didn’t register with either of us as having been walked next to before, so it was certainly deserving of our gaze.

Steam Train in Garibaldi, Oregon

From Rockaway Beach all the way to Garibaldi, I tried getting a decent photo of this old steam train we’d never seen running before, and we’ve been here countless times, so you’d think we’d get a glimpse of it if even for just a second, right? Well, it turns out that here in the town where the train originates, I would capture the image that would satisfy me. There are no electricity lines, street signs, or cars, but what’s more, is that there are logs in the background and with Oregon being known for its forest products 100 years ago, this seemed fitting.

Garibaldi, Oregon

On our last night in the yurts, we’d noticed when packing up our bedding that our pillowcases were wearing thin. No, we do not have a second set we could change into when we get home, as our particular pillowcases were handmade by Caroline and are quite special to us. Knowing they’d have to be retired, we spoke of needing to buy fabric so she could make us new ones. Well, it turns out that a small shop in Garibaldi called Swift Stitches sells fabric, and they’re open. Our new pillowcases now have the fabric that is destined to rest under our sleeping heads. Bubbles will be on one side, and the crabs will be on the other. Our current pillowcases were yellow with tiny snails, but they’ll soon be retired for these reminders of our vacations to Oregon.

Garibaldi, Oregon

Hungry again, we looked for something to eat out at the Port of Garibaldi but didn’t find anything that caught our eye.

Garibaldi, Oregon

The scenery out here at the port though certainly enchanted us, getting us out of the car to walk around and inspect the world from this point of view.

From here, we had a little further south to drive before arriving in Tillamook with the hope of lunch. Fast food was our choice as it was a mindless decision in a city notoriously difficult for us to get something good to eat. Yes, we’ve eaten at the Blue Heron French Cheese Company, but on holiday weekends, that place is packed, so we’d rather not deal with that side of traveling over Thanksgiving.

We knew that the Tillamook Cheese Factory would be inundated and was out of consideration for a stop this trip. Ice cream from the place, though, is hard to pass up, and after already having passed Tillamook, we said to heck with impatience and turned around to indulge our vacationing selves. We found parking right away and were certain we’d be partying with marionberry pie ice cream just minutes from now. The two lines were both at least 30 minutes long, which convinced us simultaneously that we didn’t need this as badly as we’d been thinking minutes before.

Silver Point Interpretive Overlook south of Cannon Beach, Oregon

Silver Point Interpretive Overlook south of Cannon Beach is a good indicator of what was going on with our weather. By the time we were going to reach Cannon Beach proper, it would be almost dark, and there was not going to be a chance for a spectacular or even mediocre sunset, so we headed to Seaside to visit a favorite bookstore and the yarn shop next door. I’m going to save those stories for the last day of our trip to Oregon, as we spent a good amount of time there. That last day is the one that follows this one.

Cannon Beach, Oregon at night

This really is a photo pointing at the beach and surf in Cannon Beach, not just a black rectangle. We needed a walk as our step count was not yet at 10k. Though it was cold and windy with a good amount of darkness, we headed out into the unknown. Not expecting rain until later in the night, it had already clouded over, so there’d be no help from the stars and moon for lighting our way, but that didn’t stop us from getting in a good mile and a half walk. The trail took us south of our lodging out to Tolovana Beach. Tomorrow’s forecast is calling for rain for the majority of the day; here’s to hoping they were wrong.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 7

November 29, 2019 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

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.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 6

November 28, 2019 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 5

November 27, 2019 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

John Wise at our Yurt at Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

If I’ve got to be an old man, I’m happy to be this one in the photo. Gone from those eyes are the angst of youth. I see a guy happy and comfortable where he’s at, cozy too, with all that wool wrapping him up warmly. Like many others have said before me and have done so with a flair, while the youth may be gone from my appearance, it still rages hard within my spirit. Of course, my wife might interpret that as me still being half an idiot or that I’ve forgotten that I’m technically the age of a grandpa, though she’d also insist that I’ve mastered the poor humor of such an old guy.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

Can you find Disneyland in a cold, wet rainforest on the central coast of Oregon under gray skies? We can; it’s right here at Carl G. Washburne State Park on the China Creek loop trail. What I mean to say is that this trail we’ve taken countless times here has all of the appeal and entertainment value of a place others hold as an essential must-visit at least once in your life kind of place.

Take this lichen here that is commonly called dog lichen; it belongs to the Peltigera genus of lichens of which there are 91 species. How do we know this? Caroline went on a super-sleuthing task after I failed to find anything about it while searching for variations of mushrooms and fungi. Once she identified this as lichen, it took another half-hour until she stumbled upon the name of the orange things, which turn out to be ascocarps and are part of the reproductive structure of the lichen, carrying spores. So, this particular species appears to be Peltigera membranacea.

Along the way, while researching this and then getting lost following a ton of other threads, Caroline came across a lichen called Icmadophila ericetorum which has a way cool common name: Fairy Barf.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

There are no thrill rides here, but there are thrilling views that will never all be seen, no matter how often you visit. This forest is dynamic, and while many things, such as the trees, seem to remain static at first blush, if you look closer, you’ll soon notice that is impossible. Even if I marked the location of this tiny garden of some sort of sprouts (or maybe they are fully grown, but tiny plants), whatever they are, I’d bet a dollar this wouldn’t look the same a week from now.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

Look at a newt from where you stand, and you’ll likely think to yourself that not only is their gate a strange one, but their pace is on the slow side. Now get down at their level and put a camera in front of them so you can attempt to get a close-up of their face, and you’d swear they were pretty snappy in their step. We learned some time ago that they are mildly toxic with a substance on their orange undersides that is an irritant. Considering that this likely occurs when they are threatened, we’ve decided not to pick them up anymore to admire their beautiful eyes, feet, and locomotion of their curious steps.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

While just three atoms make up a molecule of water, there are 5.01 x 10²¹ atoms in a drop of water. I can’t tell you how many drops of water are in this photo hanging from this bit of a plant. The plant itself is made of cells that are as complex as human cells, with its own DNA for passing on genetic traits and RNA for making proteins, etc. The number of cells in a gram of plant or animal tissue is another exponential number like the one above for water, though not as many. My point is that we are looking at trillions of atoms and at least billions of molecules in a complex system where water has to be exchanged with the plant and the cells in the plant, transferring information through a complex network of channels while growth is at work.

Most of us will look at images such as these and never comprehend the complexity of just what’s before us. We’ll go through life ignorant of how symbiotic the entire interplay of atoms is for the support of life, not just ours but of all the systems that must work as a tight patchwork of essential subsystems in an ecosphere where consciousness took flight. If only humanity could see this intrinsic nature of reality, we might come to the conclusion and realization that we are coexisting in a fragile environment that could only benefit from more awareness of its greatest destroyer.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

Now, extrapolate the numbers above to just this section of trail in one incredibly small corner of a place somewhere on the coast of a single state that is actually a tiny spot of a continent and try to realize how relatively insignificant your own bag of cells is to the bigger picture. You are so incredibly lucky to have all of the attributes of consciousness with sensing organs to move through the infinity of a reality that might be the only one you’ll ever know. Do you decide to take advantage of this awareness and maybe find delight in the undiscovered sights, sounds, and potential knowledge that is all around you, or are you content in a staid existence where you allow yourself to remain in situ like so much moss on the forest floor?

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

If I told you that I witnessed a tiny elf scurry out from under this mushroom, would you really be able to challenge me? I could tell you that it exists in a spectrum of light invisible to your vision and that its body is made of a mix of nitrogen, argon, carbon dioxide, oxygen, hydrogen, and various particles, all using photons as their energy source while harnessing neutrinos as a communication network. What I’ve just described is exactly what you are seeing that is invisible in this image: the air we breathe. While neutrinos are not used for communication as far as we currently know, I’d like to postulate that we may not yet know if things from the ether are able to exist outside of our realm of knowledge. Now, to be honest, I did not see an elf, gnome, fairy, or sprite dancing under the mushroom cap or scurrying out of sight, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t magic being captured of the reality before my eyes.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

The whispers of the forest are faint, but their poetry of hushed tones might be heard if you remain still and observant of the relationship of things that create this universe. We cannot truly experience this world where spiders can take refuge out of sight or are in plain sight but have merged into the natural camouflage of the environment. On the surface of what we see are yeasts and bacteria we cannot see. Without learning more, how can we ask the right questions or begin to guess what their role is here in the shaded woods? The roots, tendrils, webs, and invisible trails through the thicket are alive and teeming with life; try as I might, I cannot grasp the order or balance of things. Now if this is a Liberty Cap mushroom, which I’m in no way certain of, though I think we could be in agreement that the opportunity to find psychedelic mushrooms across the Oregon landscape is a given, then we can dig another step deeper into questioning why is nature supplying itself with hallucinogens if it is not in some way self-aware?

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

Witch’s butter, as it’s sometimes known, is also orange jelly fungus, or by its Latin name, Dacrymyces palmatus. This fungus grows on wood, and while we didn’t know it at the time, it is edible. While walking along, it’s easy for bright contrasting colors to catch our eye even when they are tiny spots in the larger picture, such as the ones up near the top of this blog entry. So if the brighter colors draw our eyes in, what about all the species that miss our casual gaze and blend into the scenery, not wanting to be seen?

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

This is China Creek, and while I’m uncertain if this is true, I believe it’s the first image of the trail’s namesake I’ve shared here on the blog.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

All great old things grow beards. Old dogs have white whiskers on their chins. My wife has the occasional goat hair popping off of her still soft and delicate chin; I’m sure she doesn’t mind me sharing that. True, young hipsters have beards, too, but that’s just because they recognize that on the path to greatness, one must possess a tuft of hair on the bottom half of their face to allow for focused contemplation. Trees are the masters of beards. Moss must have come about in order to demonstrate wisdom as it grows in places where reverence of things extraordinary and wise is apparent.

I noted above that there are 91 species of lichen, and while they are the granddaddies of the plant kingdom, having appeared over 550 million years ago, there are nearly 10,000 species of mosses. These hairy fellows are relative youngsters who have only been hanging out in our woods for about 290 million years, but you have to admit their prolificness.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

A phallic appearance was not the intention when I knelt down to capture this blue-gray mushroom poking out of the forest floor, but phallic is what I got. So, beyond the obvious comparison, what else is there to know about this particular mushroom? I don’t really know, as I’m not going on a search to identify exactly what it is, but I can share some interesting facts about mushrooms for those who might be curious.

There are four major categories of mushrooms. The first is the saprotrophs that help decompose the materials around them. They recycle organic waste by releasing acids and enzymes that digest the dead matter, which in turn feeds the mushroom. Then there are the parasitic mushrooms that take over plants, ultimately killing them so the Mushroom King might live on, kind of virus-like really. Mycorrhizal mushrooms rely on a more symbiotic relationship with plants, where they supply nutrients to the plant while the plant offers a food source the fungus needs to survive. Finally, there are the endophytes. Endophytic fungi are essentially parasites, too, but they do not kill their host. One last item of note, there are over 10,000 species of mushrooms currently known. If you can send me an email listing the names of all of them you’ll be entered in a contest to win some undetermined gift. Exciting stuff, huh?

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

Okay, so the mushroom trivia may not be the most exciting content here on JohnWise.com, but this photo of sunlight falling on the mossy forest, spilling over trees, and warming our cockles should bring out some happy cheer from those of you fortunate enough to know how terrific sunshine feels to those in a rainforest late in November.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

You’ll beg for me to stop posting all the mushroom, fungus, liverwort, lichen, and moss photos by the time this day is finished. If I had a microscope with me, I’d also be taking photos of the cyanobacteria, a.k.a. blue-green algae, to share with you. Speaking of cyanobacteria, did you know that there are only 2,698 described species of this branch of algae out of an estimated total of 6,280 cyanobacteria species? Not only that, but it’s been estimated there are between 30,000 and 1,000,000 different species of algae; just imagine if there were even a couple of dozen species of humans walking the earth. And no, idiots are not a species unto themselves.

Carl G Washburne State Park in Florence, Oregon

That’s about it, as the trail simply disappears into the edge of the forest where we and everything we’ve ever known or seen ceases to exist. This is the black hole of the rainforest where the event horizon is paved in electric green psychedelia. On the other side, we emerge 20 minutes younger though that might also be attributed to the fact that our hearts and minds have sung themselves into younger versions of the people that entered this magic land.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

The Devil’s Churn at Cape Perpetua in Lincoln County, Oregon, could also be known as the place where John will have to take hundreds of photos in an attempt to capture the ferocity of the frothing gnarl of the sea that comes crashing into a narrow inlet, building up explosive energy as the water is compressed with nowhere to go but up. I could sit here for hours watching these fluid sculptures exist and disappear in fractions of seconds. I never really considered this before, but maybe these are quantum communication forms that have been transmitted to us by an alien species that believes everyone knows how to read chaos in the churning foam.

Driftwood Beach in Seal Rock, Oregon

Just out of frame due to poor photography skills by the author is the signature of Bob Ross, dated 1994. I think I might have found my very own version of a Banksy image painted right here in the Oregon sand.

Driftwood Beach in Seal Rock, Oregon

If you are starting to wonder if this day ever ends, the answer is a resounding NO! The impressions we gathered will live on with us, and while they can never be experienced by anyone else, we appreciate that they are uniquely ours. Nobody can ever go back and see these things just as we did. While everyone can watch a rerun of Game of Thrones and see the same things millions of others have seen, our adventures into reality, painted with the filters of interpretation we bring into our imaginations, will never be known or fully understood. We choose to the best of our abilities to be the atom on the beach that is part of the molecule creating the scene which becomes the cells making up the body of reality.

South Beach in Newport, Oregon

The reality we perceive is a fleeting image like these plovers who, for a moment, lend themselves to an unimaginable scene but just as quickly flock in what is nearly a murmuration to fly away, never to be seen again. You then must ask yourself, were you trying to witness your own reality enhanced by the serendipity of life’s rare moments, or were you content to remain fixed to your chair, staring into the abyss of nothing?

South Beach in Newport, Oregon

The light is fading fast with hopes that the impressions it helped illuminate will persist long into the days that see us growing older. This is how you live 100 days in one.

Oregon Coast 2019 – Day 4

November 26, 2019 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 19^th 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 50^th 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 50^th 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

November 25, 2019 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.