Oregon and the Pacific at last!

What follows are the remnants of a spur-of-the-moment-after-a-week-of-thinking-about-it plan. What that means, is that I had an inkling, but not a drive, until the last second. On FRIDAY before a three day weekend, after leaving work at 1:30, on the ride home (1.5 miles) I decided, "I'm going to the COAST!"

So I did. I wrestled with the drive, the money, and the time. But, it was such a beautiful day on Friday and expected to be another one on Saturday...well, I had to. Plus, I needed to escape town yet again...I think I'm looking for an answer to something, what, I do not know...but it's out there somewhere.

I left at 0730 in a thick fog, but no one on the road. Within an hour for home I had to pull off Interstate 90 to make sure I didn't miss my turn. (Yea, I had a VAGUE idea of where and what I needed to look for...exits? Landmarks? Planning? WHAT?...there was a definite purposeful lack of planning there.) So, I checked the map and sure enough, I was doing well. I exited onto 395 at the proper time and broke out of the fog. It was simply gorgeous! Low clouds, prairie, small farms...large farms...and no one on the road but me. Dwight Yoakam and "A thousand miles from nowhere" playing on the radio, and I was in perfect "I'm-in-vacation-mode" leaving it all behind. Unfortunately, you cannot leave your MIND behind, because I thought of everything from soil to dirt, from fog to sun, from loneliness to freedom, from acquaintances to love. Funny how closely those certain comparisons are comparable and interrelated. Go ahead, drive for 8 hours alone...see where YOU come out. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Anywho, I ended up at the tri-cities and obviously took the wrong turn because I ended up on "surface streets" as the cops call them. I wove my way toward the Columbia river because at least I knew I needed to cross it. I crossed it. Wound my way through the cities and ended up headed toward the Dalles. I desperately wanted to see the Columbia river. When I broke off the plateau, I saw the river! I saw the river socked in with fog! So...all the way to the Dalles, I saw nothing but fog. Bummer! Mt. Hood? What? I saw that for about 30 seconds. Amazing hill, then I found out some guys were trapped on it later. Now I know how scary that must be...it's a tall mountain.

But, I reached the Dalles and saw the river for a little bit.

Then I reached Portland. Ahh, Portland. Those people are braver than I am. Since I had no idea which highway I needed and therefore, which exit...I was at the mercy of traffic and large signs mentioning a coastal town I recognized. I ended up on Hwy 5 headed south to Salem, figuring if I could get out of the traffic and the city, then I'd be able to peel off easier to the west. Soon, I was again on surface streets..headed into the heart of Beaverton and then back to Portland! Crud. Luckily, after almost rear ending a truck with bad taillights, I had enough time to take some deep breaths and find an exit to follow toward Astoria and Seaside! Semi-gridlock is sometimes I good thing for an out-of-towner. I left that bustle and onto a highway that boasted a ridiculous speed of 55 mph. Uhm, really? I struggled and so did everyone else. But, after we all saw a highway patrolman pull someone over, it was slow and steady. Up a hill, down a hill, up a hill, down a hill...trees getting thicker and thicker...skies getting darker and darker. I was 4 miles from Seaside and topped the laaaaast hill to drop to the ocean thinking I'd get an incredible view..no. The fog rolled in, it started to rain, the clouds were at treetop level, and the spray from the road onto my windshield obscured everything but the taillights in front of me.

I made it to Seaside. Blah blah blah, turn around, look at the map in a Jehovah's witness parking lot, turn around again...then start looking for hotels. "What IS it with all the people here?" I thought to myself. Then I thought that out loud (using different language) after waiting through a single traffic light four times. I drove through the narrow streets in the blowing rain. Waited for people to jump out of a truck on a bridge and check their crab pots, then inched along to the hotels. No rooms.

At the next hotel I found out why. There was a basketball game in town that night. Everything from there to Tillamook was booked, I (and many others) found out the difficult way. We traveled in a leap-frogging pack. At one point, we began recognizing each other...so when the other pulled into the hotel parking lot...I, or the others could say, "nothing here. Down the road!" (Most of us ended up in Tillamook at the Shilo.) At a mere $112 a night, it was a steal in a rainstorm and it getting dark. Did I mention I was OUT OF GAS? I tried to go to a station in Bayview, 10 miles from Tillamook, but as soon as I got out of the hotel with a no-go, the station was closed. Yes, closed at 1700 on a Saturday night....only in Oregon. So I got to Tillamook, got a room for two nights, then went to the gas station.

I drove over an air hose. It was weird.."what's THAT doing there?" I swiped my card, put the nozzle in the tank and then this guy came running at me waving his arms and shaking his head! "What the hell?" He said I couldn't pump my own gas in Oregon. "uhm, okay." He raised the handle on the nozzle (his job) and we stood there and chatted. "This is going to take awhile....yeah, I'm on fumes and it's a 30 gallon tank." So that done, and he doing his "job" and me keeping him company, I found a Subway, got a sandwich and simply FLOPPED on the couch. What a day.

So, I decided to walk downtown and check out the nightlife. Yep, a mile and a half (I found out later) no one out and about...a crappy bar...one beer...and then I walked back to the hotel. Luckily (I say this slathered in sarcasm) I woke up with shinsplints. Who would have thought, ...dehydrated except for gallons of coffee on a nine hour drive and walking on pavement for three miles...would wreak havoc on your shins?

At 0630 I got up, headed south, then headed west to the beach. The first was a miserable disappointment. Many people; too many people. I left after walking 50 yards on the beach, not my scene. I ended up a little later at a State Park on a peninsula, hiked down a little over a mile of switchbacks to a beach and had it all to myself for three hours until I left. On the way up the trail, many many unfriendly people were headed down, so I felt good for leaving early.

I drove and drove along the coast. Ended up in Pacific City and then got back onto Hwy 101 back north toward Tillamook. I tried to go to the air museum there, but it was closed for maintenance. I tried to go to the cheese factory, but it was crowded with tourists and RVs and children and generally, just not my place. So I continued up the coast and hit every beach access I could. Luckily, the partly cloudy skies started clouding over and spitting rain. I say luckily, because every time a spurt of hard rain turned up...everyone would run for their cars and leave. Leaving Tom alone on the beach! Fantastic! I studied waves and tried to figure out their pattern, but after an hour in one spot...simply couldn't do it. I need to learn more about waves obviously, because it's bugging me. "Sneaker waves" kept running up the shore and overtaking people, causing them to shreek and yip like small animals. Almost comical until I figured out they were likely doing it on purpose. Why? I don't know. I was almost busted by one early that morning after crossing a large creek entering the ocean..after crossing the creek and filling up my boots with ice-cold water, I had my back to the waves and suddenly heard a large "whoooosh" behind me. This wave had flooded where I crossed the 6-inch deep creek with about 12 or more inches of water. I stayed there and watched the tide come in and waited for those waves..watching them at less then a foot away...eroding the banks of sand. I cannot even imagine a tsunami...these little waves made me nervous enough. So, I learned to never turn my back on the ocean.

Ok. So after struggling with my urge to get off the road, to see the ocean, to maximize my time on the beach...I left the ocean at about 1630. I again got a sandwich and retired.

The next morning, I woke in a pounding rain at about 0800 and left at 0830. Rain until a little outside Portland, which went well...got through it just fine at around 1000. By the time I left the Columbia, I was in a trance and ended up almost to Pendleton! Realizing my error, I consulted the atlas, turned around, made my way through some small towns and back onto the correct road. PACKED with traffic all the way home. The wind was blowing up to 50 mph gust (I found out later) on the prairie...explaining the terrible time I was having keeping the truck on the road. I murdered many tumbleweeds under my tires by accident. (I didn't swerve to kill even one, I swear!) ;) Tenacious little bastards...they keep going after you wound them!

Got to Post Falls and entered blowing rain. Entered Coeur d'Alene and found sleet, rain, snow, and severe winds. Good homecoming!

All in all, it was a fantastic trip. I was glad I was alone, but at the same time lonely. I have a hard time going to interesting restaurants alone...thus, the sandwiches. But, I get fed up with people easily, so it was fortunate that I was able to leave a crappy beach and find my own for three hours. (The urge to get away from people definitely goes both ways.) I saw things and thought things. I was nervous, scared, apprehensive, happy, joyous almost to the point of running and singing, uncomfortable, perfectly happy, overwhelmed, proud, courageous (in my mind), steady, secure, insecure...all in the same three days...at all hours, in many different combinations.

I had a great time.

So, what follows are pictures. Backwards, as it turns out. The topmost is the most recent, the last picture is the oldest. (At the bottom, I wanted to show what a $112 hotel room looked like)But, this is some of what I saw. Enjoy.