Oregon to Arizona – Day 11

John Wise and Caroline Wise in Eugene, Oregon

I’ll never know you, creepy passenger in seat 2A, but someday, an artificial intelligence algorithm will identify you and tell your descendants that it found an old photo of you, and they’ll see you peering our way to see what we were photographing which was nothing more than us on a plane out of Eugene, Oregon.

Flying over California

Last night as I was checking in for our flight, we were offered an upgrade out of peasant class, where the likes of us belong, to sit among royalty for only $92 a person extra. We couldn’t turn down this bargain as our checked bag was now included, we were among the first dozen to board the plane, and we’d certainly have overhead bin space. While waiting for the cattle to load, we were offered coffee fitting our new status with promises of more luxuries to come as soon as the curtain was closed between us and “them.” Once in the air, our three-course white-glove breakfast service was brought out with silver dining utensils. When this part of the formalities was finished, there was nothing left to do but for Caroline to kick back and enjoy her mid-air pedicure.

Flying over California

Eleven days ago, flying over California on our way to Oregon, shamefully, as just two more cows in peasant class, I cracked open Bruno Latour’s After Lockdown. I was certain I’d finish it while out on the coast, but it turned out that I never found a moment to read even one more sentence. As we were taxiing this morning, I was struggling to write legibly, but as soon as I put a period to this paragraph, I’ll be turning back to the book to see where he takes his ideas on metamorphosis.

Flying over Arizona

Providing size comparison that the earth is merely 0.14% the weight compared to the weight of energy the sun emits, Latour posits that, in effect, we live in a thin biolayer of existence much like a termite, though we’ve tricked ourselves into believing we have the autonomy to go where we want. Lockdown thus turned us into the termite and changed our perception of who and what we are.

Flying over Arizona

If women and earth are feminine and men and the universe are masculine regarding our species’ evolution so far, when will we recognize the need for more humans to be caregivers and nurturers? This need to have men accept roles that have traditionally been female roles will change the way men see themselves. Maybe we are already seeing this change.

Flying over Lake Pleasant in Arizona

That’s Lake Pleasant out there, which is at the edge of Phoenix, meaning we are almost home. Time to close that chapter from Latour and put the Oregon coast behind us before settling into a long slog of trying to document another incredible vacation.

Deep Surprises in Oregon – Day 10

Yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon, Oregon

Welcome to the tenth and final day of our coastal vacation that saw us waking in this yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon, Oregon. We watched a rafter of turkeys stroll by, and while I tried to get a decent photo, it just didn’t work out with our car as background, a curb in the shot, the motorhomes across the way, etc. So, with the sadness that arrives at the last moments of all of our getaways, we pack up one last time, say fond goodbyes to inanimate things that don’t care that we were here, and offer wishes that we might return again one day.

Cosmo the Tufted Puffin in Bandon, Oregon

Might not have been able to capture a nice photo of a turkey, but Cosmo the Tufted Puffin had no problem keeping a pose until I got something reasonable. Cosmo took up its perch here at Coquille Point back in 2018 in celebration of Earth Day. Made from recycled materials found on Oregon beaches, it was the efforts of Angela Haseltine Pozzi and her non-profit Washed Ashore that brought Cosmo to be a fixture here on the southern coast. This tufted puffin is likely the only 6-foot-tall bird made of marine debris on our entire planet.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

In poor light and an angle that doesn’t exemplify what others see, this is Elephant Rock. Don’t bother trying to catch sight of what I’m failing to bring attention to; let it suffice that the arch is the place between its legs. While Face Rock has always been obvious to me, I just learned that this one is officially called Elephant Rock, and I fail to see why.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

With the weather holding, meaning it’s not raining, there’s no time left to waste if we are going to get some beach exploration in.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

And so, down we go.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

This will not be further musings on the world of barnacles, though this is definitely one of the largest clusters of tiny ones. I’m more curious about the blood-red rock sandwiched in the surrounding metamorphic rock. I just learned that the sacred Sae-Tsik-Na (“Grandmother Rock”) that used to stand out here was quarried out of existence for the building of the Bandon jetty back in 1900. Well, that sacred rock to the Coquille people was made of blueschist speckled with red garnets, and if this is some ancient metamorphosized sandstone with a high amount of iron oxide in it, this would be the deepest red sandstone I’ve ever seen. I understand that the red rock is not translucent, so not likely to be red garnet, but could it have been on its way to becoming a gemstone had it remained in the deep miles below the surface for a bit longer?

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Looking up the rocks standing out here, I learned that they are called knockers (cue John’s childish giggles) and are formed after the softer rocks and soils wash away. The really cool thing is that some of the rocks out here formed hundreds of miles apart, but thanks to millions of years of subduction, they’ve ended up here.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

All of a sudden, the gloom of the sky, in a sense, lifts, and I see the beach here in Bandon in a whole new light. If we might have thought that this trip to the Oregon coast might be our last, it is nearly certain that we’ll have to make a return as there are obviously things that require deeper examination.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Between two sides of the beach is an outcropping with a cut in it that is filled with boulders and large pieces of driftwood. We only need to scramble through it to reach the other side.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Doing so without distraction is another matter, as there are thousands of details here worth scrutinizing.

Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Once on the other side, we get a better view through the arch between the legs of the elephant, except for the backed-up water that obscures the view.

Seals at Coquille Point National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

I took more than one photo of these seals, and this was the best of them, which is not saying a lot as they are almost unrecognizable, but they are reminders to Caroline and me that we saw them and maybe for others to gather a hint of what’s to look for while along the coast. I’m pointing this out as one of the other contenders showed a large part of the rocks above them, which to my eye looked incredibly ancient, not as in billions of years, but still quite old. Good old research to the rescue, but also bad for me as there is now ZERO doubt of our return to this area.

There are blueschist knockers out here, and of course, there are chunks of it in the jetty. This stone turns out to be very rare, as in seriously rare. The conditions for its formation are the reason: they must be near a subduction zone, and they can’t go too deep below the surface; otherwise, the pressure and heat will change the minerals into something else. They are typically not old rocks because subduction zones are chaotic places pushing large pieces of earth to and fro. From the Scientific American article I was reading, I learned that it’s easy to find examples of blueschist here in Bandon that were created under 10 kilobar of pressure, meaning these rocks were once 22 to 25 miles (35 to 40 kilometers) below the surface of land we were standing on while here in Oregon. If this means little to you, I’d surmise you have little understanding about time and should get yourself out in the world and question what you are seeing.

Highway 101 north of Bandon, Oregon

In the fog and mist, we move slowly, not really out of caution regarding the driving conditions but more out of the desire to bring to our senses as much as possible due to our event horizon coming to a close.

Highway 101 north of Bandon, Oregon

Knowing that last impressions are what we are gathering, we have to look hard at the gray environment for those things that, in years to come, we’ll hold close from our days in Oregon. These perfect examples of yet another wonderful day full of experiences are worth remembering forever.

Coos Bay, Oregon

Over the 20 years, we’ve been passing up and down this coast, this corner here at Coos Bay has held a special interest that I’ve always failed to satisfy my curiosity about. It seems apparent that at one time, long before we ever visited, this must have been a major center of the timber industry, and while remnants are still here, I get the sense that it had a much more significant presence here.

Coos Bay, Oregon

The old adage “be careful what you wish for” needs to be updated for me to “be careful what you research.” Looking for information about the history of logging in the Coos Bay region, the first thing I learned was there are 41,000 acres of old-growth trees still remaining in 1.15 million acres of Coos County. Trees older than 400 years old have been clear cut, and with that, I’ve read enough; this includes a recent 2019 harvest approved by Anthony Davis, a dean of Oregon State University entrusted with lands under their forestry protection program who axed a 16-acre tract of land because they needed the money due to cost overruns regarding a university construction project. Pardon me, but this is bullshit.

Coos Bay, Oregon

While I’m out in this beautiful place, I only want to enjoy the solemnity of it all. Now, back in Arizona and knowing that our form of capitalism will only continue to exploit everything that can make money, my wish is for either a meteorite to splash down in the Pacific and wash humanity from the surface of our planet or maybe even for a certain Russian megalomaniac to let the nukes fly so our planet can get to the business of repairing the profoundly ugly damage we perpetuate on these lands, waters, and atmosphere on a daily basis.

Coos Bay, Oregon

The presence of humans over the course of history has left impressions for centuries into the future; things like cave paintings, old middens, burial sites, certain buildings, and even some artifacts have been found. Today, though, we consume and throw away everything we touch as though some omnipotent god could wave a hand and repair the horror we are leaving in our wake. While I can pause and appreciate the aesthetic of a rusting nail from a disused dock, I’m also reminded of how little we care about what’s left behind as long as we got ours.

Coos Bay, Oregon

But if I don’t leave this track of destruction and neglect behind me, I’ll be ending this series of blog posts on a negative note, and that’s not really where I want to go.

Road to Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

So, let’s return to the intense pockets of beauty that still exist out here and share those impressions. From here I can hope that others might stumble upon these posts, not only to see what had been but to inspire them to visit and see for themselves an environment cared for and protected where not everything need be fouled for the sake of exploitation.

Road to Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

Certainly, this forest view is one of wonderment, but you might notice there are no old trees here. Maybe others in the centuries to come will be afforded the opportunity to see this place still filled with the trees that were standing here back in 2022.

Caroline Wise leaving the Tsunami Hazard Zone north of Reedsport, Oregon

Maybe instead of telling people passing through that they are entering and leaving tsunami hazard zones, we should have signs in life that we are entering an exploitation-free zone where nature is being allowed to present itself in the rawest format without anything more from humans than pathways through and maybe accommodations that leave no impact.

Highway 101 in Gardiner, Oregon

It’s not lost on me that, in effect, we modern humans are not as “modern as we might pretend and are instead half-stupid creatures stumbling through the fog of our own arrogance.

Highway 101 in Gardiner, Oregon

It’s with great sadness that we inch ever closer to the exit.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

Then again, maybe, just maybe, there’s enough time for us to capture one other new place we’ve never visited before that is to be found right here at the Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

Is it the melancholy of distance that stimulates ideas not realized while I was at a place where I should have tried pulling back from the abyss of being overwhelmed to gather yet a different perspective? In this instance, I wish to see the forest from the level of a newt, between mushrooms, while walking across the moss and sand.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

As I said, we are here in the sand dunes, among mountains of sand.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

With a lush forest growing on top of it in spots.

Oregon Dunes Overlook in Gardiner, Oregon

While the trail could have taken us to the ocean (you can see the sign points right to it), we are limited regarding goof-off time. Being mindful of that factor, we reluctantly return to the car.

North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

And then, before we know it, we are back in Florence, where our encounter with the coast began ten days ago. By this time at the North Jetty, we’ve already lunched up at the Little Brown Hen, where, for the second time, we shared a warm bowl of the best brown rice pudding you’ll find on the entire coast of this state. The need to walk off that indulgence is part of what brought us out here.

Caroline Wise at North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

That, and Caroline’s need to bring out Happy McKiteface for a final flight in the cool coastal air we’ll soon be missing.

North Jetty Beach in Florence, Oregon

If I can’t take a multi-hundred-pound souvenir with me today, I can bring a reminder.

Exploding Whale Memorial Park in Florence, Oregon

Speaking of reminders, who doesn’t want to be reminded of that day 52 years ago when too much dynamite was used to remove a whale carcass from a nearby beach but instead blew car-crushing, possibly life-extinguishing chunks of rotting whale in all directions?

Exploding Whale Memorial Park in Florence, Oregon

This warning sign at the Exploding Whale Memorial site regarding soft sand and mud should include some text that the incident did NOT happen here but somewhere on the other side of that dune. I didn’t want to visit some random place for a moment of remembrance; I wanted to stand on ground zero where said whale failed to vaporize and instead was sent off to chunkidom.

Petersen Tunnel east of Mapleton, Oregon

With a bunk memorial site behind us and Dutch Bros. coffee along for the ride to Eugene, we have now left the tsunami zone.

Happy McKiteface Over Oregon- Day 9

A Stellar Jay at Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

Good morning, Steller’s jay! I hope you enjoy your morning meal courtesy of the vanlife guttersnipes that squatted here overnight. Caroline and I have been visiting the Oregon coast for about 20 years now, and I can say with certainty we’ve never seen so many roadside freeloaders who don’t have the respect to pay attention to the “No Overnight Camping Allowed” signs. I can only surmise that their sense of being free to roam America’s roads allows them to feel a sense of entitlement that arrives with their chosen form of homelessness for the sake of social media status. Regarding the homeless situation, it has spilled out of the bigger cities and now shows up on the coast in ways we’d not seen before. From more people living in cars (not in the aforementioned vanlife configuration) to people struggling with loads of stuff being moved through town and those who will join the ranks in the coming year due to the problem of rising rents, the situation is one of ugly proportions. Back to the vanlifers, Caroline and I used to pull into overlook parking lots where we might be the only people, but when we pull in, and there are people just waking, finishing their ablutions, or putting away the cooking gear, I try to imagine what our experiences would have been like if people in motorhomes had exercised the same liberties, especially considering two large vehicles could fill up a pullout and stop anyone else from stopping for a moment. Just because we didn’t park at an ocean overlook doesn’t mean our waking experiences are any less valid or someone else’s even greater because they flaunt convention. Enough of that, I look forward to the day that vanlife is no longer a thing or I’m dead and gone, no longer able to witness the arrogance.

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

Normally, waking near the shadow of a lighthouse is a terrific thing, but driving into someone’s temporary bedroom sure puts a damper on that. Fortunately, they were soon gone after we spoiled their perfect isolation with our intrusion. Oops, I said I was done with all that, but the truth is that I’m never done once something gets jammed in my craw.

When we travel on weekends, it’s often been difficult for Caroline to connect with her mom in Frankfurt for her weekly call, but it just so happens that our brother-in-law Klaus is visiting Jutta as we were packing up the yurt and is going to bring us into a video chat. While my mother-in-law has certainly been here at the lighthouse, we have some skepticism about how much she remembers or whether she simply learned to just go along with things and agree to fond memories rather than admit these things are largely gone from her book of memories. It’s really not a problem, though, as she smiles a lot, and we know she’s still very aware that she’s been to the United States many times, even if many of the details are lost to the passage of time.

Umpqua River in Winchester Bay, Oregon

Do you remember how years ago there was a floating restaurant off in the distant corner here in Winchester Bay? We fondly do and have often wished to visit again, but it’s been closed for years. We first dined there back in 2006; such is the good luck of having blog posts to remind one of something that might have been forgotten otherwise. Today, we sit next to the Umpqua River for breakfast after choosing the place with more cars parked outside, figuring the locals know something.

Umpqua River in Winchester Bay, Oregon

Never believe in 10-day forecasts, or better yet, simply don’t look at them because would they really change your travel plans? This is probably bad advice because at least they offer some idea of how to dress for potential weather conditions. As for the location, we are on the other side of the restaurant for a post-breakfast walk under perfect skies.

Umpqua Lighthouse State Park in Reedsport, Oregon

This isn’t just any old forest; it is the forest that goes back…

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

…back to the Umpqua Lighthouse because without Tillamook Creamery around for breakfast dessert, this will have to do.

Oregon Dunes seen from the David Dewett Veterans Memorial in North Bend, Oregon

We are looking across one small part of Coos Bay from the vantage point of the David Dewett Veterans Memorial in North Bend. It almost never fails that the reflections of the Oregon Dunes catch our eye, and poetically, it makes sense that a place of such great reflection should be the site of a veterans memorial.

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

In the opposite direction, you’ll find the McCullough Memorial Bridge.

Rail bridge over Coos Bay in North Bend, Oregon

In all the years we’ve been passing through here, we’ve yet to see this rail bridge in any other position or to see trains crossing the bay. We can only guess that this is a relic of the age of forestry as it existed in the past.

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

From this fascination with bridges, one might think Arizona doesn’t have any, but it turns out that Arizona and Oregon are nearly equal in that department, which suggests that the bridges in Arizona are not remarkable in any way. Before you object: yes, we have the Navajo Bridges over the Colorado River and the London Bridge that was moved from the U.K. to Lake Havasu, along with the Black Bridge down in the Grand Canyon, but other than those, I cannot think of any other memorable crossings in Arizona. [May I suggest Roosevelt Lake Bridge?  Caroline]

McCullough Memorial Bridge in North Bend, Oregon

For 86 years, people have been using this bridge, but has anyone else taken so many photos of it?

Traveling Highway 101 south of Coos Bay, Oregon

I’m always trying to remind myself to not only stop and take photos of the most iconic things but also the mundane ones along the way, as they are just as important a part of the attraction that draws us back year after year.

Old rain shelter on Riverside Drive in Bandon, Oregon

In addition, we try to turn down side roads we might have missed on previous travels, and today, that worked in our favor when we turned onto Riverside Drive. At first glance, this might look like an outhouse to those of us not accustomed to living in rainy places but upon looking closer, it was obvious that this was a long-neglected bus stop for kids who needed shelter while waiting for their school bus.

Big Foot and child on Riverside Drive in Bandon, Oregon

That, or it was a hiding place from a marauding Big Foot and its daughter.

Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge in Bandon, Oregon

Also from Riverside Drive, a view of the Bandon Marsh National Wildlife Refuge we’ve never seen before.

Caroline Wise at the Wool Company yarn store in Bandon, Oregon

The same cannot be said of the Wool Company yarn store in Bandon that we’ve visited countless times and must have bought 50 skeins of yarn from by now. Yes, there is new sock yarn there, destined for my feet.

The famous Langlois Market in Langlois, Oregon

Another place becoming a regular stop on our journeys is found here at the famous Langlois Market, best known for the more than 1,000,000 hotdogs they’ve sold from their little roadside market in a town of only 370 people.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Not being able to remember offhand the last time we visited the Cape Blanco Lighthouse, we decided to drive down the road through the state park to have a gander.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Oooh, it’s windy and cold out here, but the sky demands that we take the short walk in the elements to nab a photo of the lighthouse should it happen that I’ve never taken one in such nice weather.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Apparently, Neptune has raised his Sword of Damocles against those who live above the surface of his vast ocean, threatening all of us should we not heed our own knowledge that we are ravaging his seas.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

And to our right, as we walk out on the spit of land that is home to the lighthouse, is this view of the deep blue sea that just yesterday was dark green.

Lighthouse at Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

At this time of year, nothing is open; the season is over. No matter, as the tower itself is not currently visitable even during the summer.

Caroline Wise at Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

As I said, it’s windy out here, which Caroline thought was as good a time as any to break out the new kite and test how it compares to the one it’s replacing. We’ll just call it love.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

Our car is out there in front of the tree line, and looking at the photo above this one, you might have noticed that Caroline was standing in the old parking lot. Even if the road to the lighthouse was still open, you should be reluctant to drive it as the adjacent cliffside is eroding.

Cape Blanco State Park in Port Orford, Oregon

This is still part of the Cape Blanco State Park, and to the left is the Historic Hughes House built in 1898 that is visitable.

Port Orford, Oregon

There are a lot of places I can say with certainty we’ve visited before, even multiple times, but this pullout looking north towards Port Orford seems to me to be one of the surprisingly many new sites we’ve stopped at during these days.

Looking southwest from the same vantage point offers up a crisp sky and a horizon nearly devoid of any fog. Of all the times we’ve been asked if we’ve been here or there, this country or that, nobody has ever asked if we’d ever had the opportunity to be out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

While our yurt at Bullards Beach State Park in Bandon is now 30 miles behind us, we have a date with a rock 35 miles ahead.

View from Highway 101 north of Gold Beach, Oregon

Persistence paid off in my attempts to figure out where the heck we were on the road, but it is mislabeled on Google Maps and is not identified at all on Bing; the address is roughly 35690 Oregon Coast Highway, identified with Port Orford, and it is NOT Foramen Arch.

View from Highway 101 north of Gold Beach, Oregon

Turn and look south, and this is your view from the photo above. To the left of the image, you can see Euchre Creek spilling into the ocean.

Wedderburn Bridge in Gold Beach, Oregon

Moving down a hill and between the bushes, we were offered this view of Wedderburn Bridge in Gold Beach. I wanted to snap a photo from the road, which gave a much better view; stopping for a photo would have been too dangerous though, so this one will have to do. It’s yet another bridge designed by the famous civil Oregonian engineer with a Hitler mustache named Conde McCullough.

Caroline Wise at Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Meet our southern date here at Meyers Creek Beach, the Shark Fin. This visit, though, now comes with 100% more kite.

Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

No more disappointment trying to fly the previous pathetic little kite that was reluctant to take to the sky, as this one is a natural.

Caroline Wise at Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Caroline is so happy with this new kite that she’s named it Happy McKiteface. Cute name and all, but I think it actually describes her.

Meyers Creek Beach in Gold Beach, Oregon

Until next time, Shark Fin, it’s been great.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

There we were, driving north as though we were doing so with purpose when, not even two miles away from our last stop, a steep road up a hillside on my left seemingly demanded that I pull a quick U-turn to investigate. Why hadn’t the Cape Sebastian sign caught our attention before?

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Seeing how we are now up here, we should check out what is down the hill, not this way but the one in front of us.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Nope, this is the view to the north, but in a second, you’ll know what I’m speaking of.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

This is the trail I wanted to bring your attention to.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

It apparently brings us out to the edge of Cape Sebastian.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Where exactly it’s going is uncertain as there was no trail map at the parking lot, and at this moment, we’ve not passed anyone else who can tell us anything more about where we are. Checking our phones is not an option as we have no signal.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

If this were as far as we’d been able to go, it would have been worth every moment and more. Around this time, we’d met a couple coming at us on the trail, and we asked how far they went; they’d gone all the way to the beach but warned us it was too late to try that as it would certainly be dark by the time we got back to where we were talking with them. Something to come back to.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

With that, we turned around for our walk back through the forest until we found a slightly different view north.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

In the distance to the south, way out there, that’s Arch Rock.

Cape Sebastian Trail in Gold Beach, Oregon

Back at the Cape Sebastian parking lot and ready to tackle the last 65 miles to the evening’s yurt accommodations.

Visitor Center Beach at Gold Beach, Oregon

We’ll still have 60 miles left after this “last” stop, but who could blame us? We’ve stopped at the Gold Beach Visitors Center, which appears to be the name of the beach, but that can’t be.

Visitor Center Beach at Gold Beach, Oregon

While I busied myself photographing the last moments of the setting sun, Caroline quietly pulled out Happy McKiteface and threw it aloft before I could protest. With that smiling face beaming at her new kite high above the beach in the fading light of day, there was no way I was going to rain on her moment of finding yet more joy.

Cold Comfort in Oregon- Day 8

Yurt at Cape Lookout State Park in Tillamook, Oregon

Stars were out in force last night, but here at dawn, the sky is overcast.

New socks using yarn from Cambria, California worn at Cape Lookout State Park in Tillamook, Oregon

Late yesterday, Caroline put the finishing touches on the new socks she’s been knitting for me. Strangely enough, it was just this past September, on our way up the California coast in Cambria, that I chose this yarn that would one day become socks. This is the shortest turnaround time ever from acquisition to socks of love, ready to wear.

Caroline Wise in front of yurt at Cape Lookout State Park in Tillamook, Oregon

It feels as though it was just moments ago that I wrote of our day that took on fairytale proportions, and here we are leaving our yurt when I spotted this fairy land-salmon snailfish poking its head out of an ancient tree. I tried capturing it, but in an instant, it was gone, and so were we.

Cape Lookout State Park in Tillamook, Oregon

The car is packed up but before we take to the open highway, we’ll revisit the beach we walked on last night.

Cape Lookout State Park in Tillamook, Oregon

Had a stream too wide to cross at the south end of the beach not turned us around, we wouldn’t have gone north. From a distance, I pointed out this sea lion to Caroline, but she wanted to believe it was driftwood until she saw the driftwood moving without the help of the ocean. Something was wrong with this poor creature, though. It dragged its hind legs, and we didn’t know at the time that this was a sign it might be suffering from a disease called leptospirosis, which is described with symptoms including dehydration, increased drinking or urinating, vomiting, depression, and a reluctance to use the hind flippers. We already know to keep a safe distance from wildlife, especially those that might be distressed; this photo is a cropped image taken with a 200mm lens.

Heron at Netarts Bay in Netarts, Oregon

As a matter of fact, the lens used to photograph the sea lion was the same one used to capture this great heron on Netarts Bay.

Oceanside, Oregon

Caroline voted to head inland to Tillamook, but I failed to take that advice and brought us to Oceanside at the end of the road.

Oceanside, Oregon

The hordes are emerging from their turkey-induced mal de puerco and are cluttering the serenity of the beach on this foggy day; just look at them all.

Oceanside, Oregon

Fine, we’ll just go this way where the beach will be all ours, probably because it’s raining on this side.

Oceanside, Oregon

Welcome to the Blue Agate Cafe, where we took refuge from the cold and wet to warm ourselves, have our first coffee of the day, and get something to eat. I can’t tell you how many times on this trip alone when our breakfast involved seafood and this day was no different as we both ordered their seafood scramble. We sat next to the front windows, watching the rain fall and enjoying the gray from our cozy spot. Sipping our coffees, we met Aspen and Sarah, learning that Aspen was a member of a band called The Helens with a new album on the horizon called Somewhere in Nowhere.

Tillamook, Oregon

With the first meal of the day over and our drive to Tillamook having reached its zenith, it was time to head into the Tillamook Creamery and Cheese Factory, as we had serious business to tend to.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Tillamook Creamery in Tillamook, Oregon

It was time for breakfast dessert because, on a gray, rainy day, nothing says cozy indulgence like hiding from the elements to enjoy a bit of ice cream. I should point out something that’s been nagging me this entire trip: things don’t feel as busy out here as they have during previous years. Of course, 202o wasn’t busy, but that was due to the pandemic, and after a booming summer for vacationers, I thought things up this way might have returned to normal. These days around Thanksgiving at the creamery, you’ll usually find the place packed with long lines for sandwiches, ice cream, or to check out in their gift store, but not so this year. For that matter, the beaches haven’t seen the same numbers of visitors, at least from our vantage point.

South of Tillamook, Oregon on a foggy road

We left Tillamook and headed right back out the way we came, through the coastal range.

South of Tillamook, Oregon on a foggy road

From there, we went further in order to keep going deeper into the mists hovering over the landscape.

Sand Lake at Clay Myers State Natural Area in Cloverdale, Oregon

Under the gray cover of the day, we approached the Clay Myers State Natural Area at Whalen Island and saw very little. The calming effect of so much solemnity winked at our yawns and suggested that we pull over in Pacific City to replenish our waning caffeine levels. Stimulus Coffee, that’s the name of the shop, was where we pulled in for some of their steaming hot java. With the rain comes the temptation for baked goods, and no good temptation is worth a thing if it doesn’t have at least some power over you and the power it had over us. The barista asked, “Take it for the road?” Are you crazy? The weather etiquette must be honored, and that means that we’ll sit down by a window and use the opportunity to sample our indulgences posthaste. Refreshed by pastries and coffee, we depart for the remaining 123 miles still ahead of us.

D River State Recreation Site in Lincoln City, Oregon

Maybe calling one of the earth’s shortest rivers Tiny D (although, compared to other things, it might be considered quite the Big D) became too rude and obvious comparisons, and so the people of Lincoln City called it D River in a compromise to not appear vulgar. That, or I’m reading too much into things.

Boiler Bay in Depoe Bay, Oregon

While a king tide is in effect and it’s raining, it’s not necessarily stormy, so places like the Spouting Horn and Boiler Bay here in Depoe Bay are not spitting and roaring. While the raucous ocean we love to witness is relatively calm today, the dark green color carries its own intrigue.

Caroline Wise at The Kite Company in Newport, Oregon

Over the previous days, Caroline’s attempts to bring her pocket kite aloft were met with mixed results. She was never quite happy with how things were going. Earlier today, while in Tillamook, I was assured that the shopping aspect of this vacation was finished, in large part due to the most expensive candle we’ve ever purchased, though it’s a cute one. This little candle sits in a glass bottle shaped like an old-fashioned milk bottle, albeit a small one about the size of venti coffee. The scent is listed as Trees of Tillamook and it cost us $33. Getting home, the smell might be better compared to Pine Sol. Okay, back to the kite shop, a young woman, upon listening to Caroline’s sad story about her sad kite, took her over to what would become her new kite. I tried insisting it would never fit in our bags, but when she started crying, I had to relent while informing her I’d just have to throw away my underwear to make space.

Brays Point in Yachats, Oregon

Maybe it was due to the large breakfast, breakfast dessert, and the pastries, but somehow, we skipped lunch, which worked out in our favor as we were able to take a late lunch/early dinner at Ona in Yachats. This being our third and final visit of this vacation, we revisited those things that quickly became favorites, such as the smoked Maitake mushroom pâté, beet salad, and the seafood pasta in saffron cream sauce.

Heceta Head Lighthouse in Florence, Oregon

We left before we gave into dessert, as one dessert a day is all that’s allowed, even on vacation. What we can never have too much of, though, are lighthouses, and with this one at Heceta Head and the one we’ll be staying next to near Winchester Bay, we make do with the eye sweets.

Umpqua Lighthouse in Reedsport, Oregon

We reached our yurt, made our bed that will certainly be the coziest ever, and headed over to our favorite lighthouse on the Oregon coast. Why this one? The red and white light pattern is the answer. When we first visited Umpqua, I thought the lighting configuration was something special for the holidays, so its festive display instantly became a favorite. I’m sure Caroline knew that this kind of red/white signal was something normal as she knows everything, but it was magic to me, especially how the silently turning fresnel lens throws spotlights on the surrounding forest behind the towering beacon.

Falling rain, short days, cold weather, all the makings for prodding one to an early sleep. Instead, we fell into conversation and talked away the void of nothing to do. Caroline had finished my socks and I wasn’t feeling the compulsion to write. The rain continued as it mostly had for the previous 11 hours, but this only added to the comfort of being in a yurt, as nothing sounds as nice at night as the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the canvas.

Reaching Expediency in Oregon- Day 7

Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Up before the sun and the tide, up before Caroline, who’s not ready to unwrap herself from our lair, and up before the place opens where we’ll be stopping for breakfast once we begin our trek north. It’s Thanksgiving today as we bail out of the Shags Nest for our next destination, Cape Lookout, up near Tillamook. With merely 95 miles (150km) to cover, we’re confident we might accomplish this in under 10 hours and before the sun sets.

Governor Patterson Memorial State Recreation Site in Waldport, Oregon

Somehow, there was some miscommunication between the staff and ourselves at the Drift Inn Cafe yesterday. We understood they’d be open for breakfast today, but it turns out they are serving brunch starting at 11:00. To offer more than 3 hours to the time gods would likely mean we’d be arriving at our yurt well after the acceptable check-in hours of 4:00 to 8:00 p.m. and so we’ll skip this first meal of the day to cover the 24 miles between us and Newport where we are certain to find the Newport Cafe open, but will we be there for breakfast or lunch?

By now, the routine is well known: the best of intentions will be tossed right out the window after that blinking billboard of a sign imploring us to stop right here at the Governor Patterson Memorial State Recreation Site in Waldport proves to be an effective tool and gets us to leap out of the car for a stroll on the beach early in the morning. [Private note to my editor, Caroline: please do not fix this slight exaggeration and tell the reader that the sign is small and that we’re simply unable to avoid any empty beach that catches our eye. – Duly noted, CW] From the size of the crowds amassing here on Thanksgiving morning, you can tell that we only choose the popular places to explore as the intelligence of the crowd is undeniable.

Governor Patterson Memorial State Recreation Site in Waldport, Oregon

What may not be evident to the casual reader is that the Governor Patterson beach and bridge (pictured here) are already 16 miles up the road, meaning what would typically require a couple of hours has been accomplished in a quick 20-minute spurt of solid driving. We call this “Vacation Discipline.”

Driftwood Beach south of Seal Rock, Oregon

I must cop to utter failure as the pullout for Driftwood Beach just south of Seal Rock means we only made it 3 miles before the distraction of desire intruded upon those intentions I just claimed were thrown out the window. If one were to think an intervention right about now was appropriate for Caroline’s and my obvious addiction, I wouldn’t be able to deny that we probably have issues.

Driftwood Beach south of Seal Rock, Oregon

Imagine my astonishment when, after walking out onto the beach here at Driftwood Beach, we spot this giant piece of driftwood that’s almost more of a giant chunk of tree but with barnacles attached to its bottom side (not unlike on my wife’s by this point in the trip). It’s easy to see that it’s been out to sea and probably just drifted in for us. What makes this so peculiar, it’s kind of like those roadside signs that tell of the wildlife in the area that’s never seen.

Driftwood Beach south of Seal Rock, Oregon

You must be thinking at this point, “Hey John, nice that you stopped here at this wide open beach so I can see with my own eyes that I, too, must one day visit Driftwood Beach, which appears to only have one piece of its namesake, but that’s okay as like so many of the other places you stop at, there is nobody out there with you.” Right about then I start backpedaling to explain that this is not reality but a simulation, a private AI-generated vacation for people who like to be alone with each other.

Driftwood Beach south of Seal Rock, Oregon

With a dearth of driftwood on Driftwood Beach, Caroline is relegated to looking for stones, which, as you can see, are ubiquitous.

Driftwood Beach south of Seal Rock, Oregon

I know I’ve seen this somewhere else: this alien form of 3-dimensional sand braille that can also be deciphered using an advanced Morse Code tool whose name we forgot at home.

Lost Creek south of Newport, Oregon

No, say it isn’t so, “Are you guys stopping yet again? Have you even driven 6 miles yet?”

Lost Creek south of Newport, Oregon

Wow, these questioners really know their geography, as we’re almost exactly 6 miles further up the road. But please believe me when I tell you that if my hunch was working on overdrive, we’d never have stopped. The sign said something or other about Lost Creek, and my intuition screamed at me, “You can find this lost creek that’s been missing for the better part of a century.” Sure enough, here it is, the long-lost creek of infamy and lore so big that if I attempted to share it now, we’d never reach breakfast in this story.

Breakfast and crafting at Newport Cafe in Newport, Oregon

With plans as fluid as the ocean, we arrived at the Newport Cafe for a Thanksgiving Day breakfast of seafood, eggs, and potatoes at 10:00 sharp, an excellent time for breakfast. And while we wait, don’t waste a brain cell thinking we might find some simple conversation when we are prepared to engage in crafting, me with pen and paper, Caroline with needles and yarn.

If you are thinking that the name Newport Cafe sounds familiar and somehow it is associated with a kind of ecstasy, you’d be 100% correct. It was just two years ago when I finally convinced Caroline that it was time to graduate out of the little leagues and go big or go home, and with my victory at hand, we ordered the 8-POUND SUPER ULTIMATE MONSTER BURGER from Newport Cafe and almost finished it with only about 6 pounds remaining…that we used for leftovers for probably 3 or 4 days max. Should you be curious about what a thing of such grandeur looks like, visit my old post here and see for yourself, especially Caroline’s look of wonder and delight.

Hummingbird at Moolack Beach in Newport, Oregon

With only 62 miles to go before checking into our yurt, maybe we should slow down or consider longer walks along the beaches we’re bound to stop at anyway. Just then, while spacing out looking at the ocean, a food-coma-induced flashback has this hummingbird flying up, hovering, and telekinetically speaking to Caroline and me, saying, “Indeed, you are moving much too fast, and if you really think a hummingbird is talking to you, maybe your breakfast included a tasty magic mushroom; this is after all Oregon.” Whoa, I’m tripping, was my thought, just as Caroline took on the shape of an anemone and was about to start feeding the hummingbird, yet suddenly whipped out her fighting tentacles for battle.

Bird at Moolack Beach in Newport, Oregon

“Tsk-tsk,” sings the song Sparrow and laughs at the silliness of us listening to a hummingbird.

Moolack Beach in Newport, Oregon

This is Moolack Beach with Yaquina Lighthouse off in the distance, and sadly, we didn’t return to the old blog post regarding the monster burger because it would have reminded us that earlier on that particular day, we had come across a recent landslide with a bunch of exposed fossils that were just incredible. It would have been dreamy to visit that spot one more time.

Devils Punchbowl State Natural Area in Otter Rock, Oregon

This is the Devils Punchbowl near Otter Rock. This is not our first time here, yet I was foiled again on getting a decent photo down in the punchbowl itself as shadows, and the balance of light are difficult to balance at the best of times, or downright impossible as it was on this visit. No matter, the surroundings are just as extraordinary.

Devils Punchbowl State Natural Area in Otter Rock, Oregon

For example, this is the view south of the Punchbowl.

Devils Punchbowl State Natural Area in Otter Rock, Oregon

And this is the view north, nice, huh?

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

We are not at Grassy Knoll Beach; there isn’t even something called that in Oregon. We are at the Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint near Depoe Bay.

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

If you’ve read the posts from the previous six days, you are likely noticing that I’m making mince meat of this post and getting through it without being quite so verbose, and that’s because I’m afraid I’ll still be writing about this trip to Oregon in early 2023. It’s the day after Christmas when I finally got to write about this day.

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Tranquil sandy beaches couldn’t be cast in greater contrast to these rocky coasts where waves don’t simply break upon the shore; they claw at the craggy escarpment, always threatening to pull the land back into the sea.

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Wherever that creek is located that Rocky Creek is named after, it’s good that this section of the coast is hard rock instead of sandstone as this place takes a beating.

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Hard rock or soft sandstone, the ocean will ultimately win as it’s relentless in the work it performs at the edges of lands we live upon and visit for recreational purposes [or to be mesmerized – Caroline].

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

The allure of big water is inexplicable as, in many places, it can be seriously dangerous, but still, it draws me into its seductive maelstrom.

Rocky Creek State Scenic Viewpoint in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Countless times, I’ve witnessed these watery eruptions where waves crash into a rock or cliff, and the explosive energy shoots water 50 feet and higher into the air. It’s what I see in my mind’s eye happening when people stand too near the edge of a cliff.

Spouting Horn in Depoe Bay, Oregon

This being Thanksgiving, we were fairly certain that there’d be no stopping at the Spouting Horn here in Depoe Bay due to crowds and traffic. However, we’ve seen more traffic at other times and are pretty surprised that more people aren’t here, especially during a king tide event. There was no need to hunt for parking but an abundance of spots everywhere. You might also notice that, yet again, the forecasted rain has not materialized.

Depoe Bay, Oregon

Saltwater can be harmful to us and our plants, but it’s also the main source of rainwater that feeds our plants and aquifers, thus supporting us. It is so profoundly beautiful that I never tire of trying to photographically capture it in its wild state, though I also admit that writing about it so frequently can be daunting.

Boiler Bay in Depoe Bay, Oregon

Understanding the importance of this vital natural resource seems to have been largely overlooked by previous generations, who apparently saw it as an infinite self-healing body that allows humans to dump what we’d like into it. Not only were our ancestors, and those currently still exploiting it, happy to take as much fish out of it and kill as many whales as possible, but they have also been responsible for dumping millions of pounds of trash into the ocean.

Boiler Bay in Depoe Bay, Oregon

If others treated our personal homes in a similar way, coming in to collect what they could for food and then depositing trash in our bedrooms before spilling harmful chemicals in our kitchens, we’d suddenly have a different relationship with those who are violating our living space, and yet this is in essence exactly what we are allowing.

Boiler Bay in Depoe Bay, Oregon

When the crabs and sea stars are gone, when plastic trash piles up on every beach, and swimming is no longer allowed, might we recognize that the ocean was never ours to deplete and poison?

Siletz Bay in Lincoln City, Oregon

We’ve reached Siletz Bay in Lincoln City, a place I don’t believe we’ve ever just driven past.

Siletz Bay in Lincoln City, Oregon

I can’t say that this spot on the coast has ever been anything other than one of tranquility, but the tree trunks we walk over to get closer to shore have obviously seen life in the water, meaning something like a tempest has thrown them up here.

Spatchcocked grilling chicken in Lincoln City, Oregon at the El Torito Market

The smell of something grilling piqued my homing skills, and in a quick second, we pulled a fast right turn into the parking lot of the El Torito Mexican Meat Market and Grocery here in Lincoln City. How in the world is this place open today and just as strange, how have we missed this on previous visits? We hadn’t missed it, as they only opened in April of 2021. The man performing the grilling duties informed us to go pay inside and that with our receipt, we’d be able to collect our spatchcocked chicken. Wow, this store is the single greatest ethnic store on the entire coast of Oregon, a treasure.

Roads End in Lincoln City, Oregon

With our macheted chicken dismembered into eight individual pieces, we took the bagged bird over to nearby Road’s End and enjoyed our grilled poultry that amounted to our Thanksgiving dinner. A beachside picnic with nothing to clean up except our greasy fingers was a dreamy way of creating yet more indelible memories. The beach access path was half-heartedly barred because of the king tides expected these days, but plenty of people ignored and circumvented the obstacle. Knowing our time was running out, we opted not to join them down below and instead continued north.

Neskowin State Recreation Site in Neskowin, Oregon

Looking at the map, Caroline found a Ghost Forest on the beach near Neskowin. I admittedly didn’t understand what this meant at this point on the trip. If you’ve read the previous day’s posts, you might have seen that I wrote of Ghost Forests back on the third day of this journey but that was due to other research about some of the geological features found out here. Had I known here on Thanksgiving the specifics of how these occurrences happened and what we might expect to see, we would have made a greater effort to see the ghost trees.

Neskowin State Recreation Site in Neskowin, Oregon

There’s a bit of a problem reaching the often submerged remnants of the forest: you have to arrive during low tide, and since four creeks meet here, you’ll have to walk through the main combined stream. Maybe there isn’t so much water during the summer months, but the times we’ve been here, the “creek” is a minor river. The trees are on the south side of Neskowin Creek, a private community, so crossing the creek is the only way there.

Neskowin State Recreation Site in Neskowin, Oregon

On this day, the tide was exceptionally low due to the fact that when the coast is experiencing a king tide, it often sees the opposite effect with a negative tide, meaning that this would have been an ideal time to see the 100 or so tree stumps poking out of the sand if I had only known back then what I know today! All the same, as you can see for yourself, there was plenty of beauty to be had.

From Nestucca Bay looking towards Chief Kiawanda Rock in Pacific City, Oregon

Looking across Nestucca Bay towards Chief Kiawanda Rock in Pacific City.

Chief Kiawanda Rock in Pacific City, Oregon

That is Chief Kiawanda Rock out there, sometimes known as a haystack rock. The other things are people, and as you can tell, this beach was quite crowded compared to those we visited earlier.

Nett Hier Baden-Württemberg meme seen in Pacific City, Oregon

If you only could have heard Caroline’s laughter at seeing this sticker, that hadn’t caught my eye in the least. This was/is a meme that went globally viral, at least for Germans. It reads Nice Here. But have you been to Baden-Württemberg? For those who don’t know, Baden-Württemberg is the state in Germany where Stuttgart is located (home of Mercedes-Benz, the carmaker) as well as the Black Forest and apparently a healthy dose of self-confidence.

McPhillips Beach in Cloverdale, Oregon

See those tire tracks leading out to the beach? We are at McPhillips Beach in Cloverdale, just north of Pacific City, and Caroline was having nothing to do with my idea of driving on the beach. And that just because a long, long time ago, I got our rental car stuck in the sand since I don’t know how to safely drive on a beach. Sometimes, that German logic stops the potential epic fun [stupidity], we might be able to gather from being spontaneous because “one” of us believes they know better.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at McPhillips Beach in Cloverdale, Oregon

So, instead, we walked out onto the beach, and I had to fake this smile of happiness.

McPhillips Beach in Cloverdale, Oregon

All I could think of looking at this scene was how much better it might have been had we been barreling down this part of the beach with the windows wide open, water splashing as though we were on horses riding bareback, crushing all of those poisonous jellyfish in the shallows, while hooping and hollering at the immense enjoyment we were experiencing. But no, all we did was stand here going blind, looking into the sun.

Caroline Wise at McPhillips Beach in Cloverdale, Oregon

Ultimately, I had to just leave with Caroline still standing there, blind and unable to move.

View over Cape Lookout State Park and Netarts Bay in Tillamook, Oregon

Right down there is Cape Lookout State Park, our next and final stop of the day.

Cape Lookout State Park and Netarts Bay in Tillamook, Oregon

Checked into our yurt, made the bed, and took off for a quick walk along the beach. We are only 10 miles from Tillamook, meaning the Tillamook Creamery and Cheese Factory, and we are already dreaming of picking up an ice cream there tomorrow, but with 145 miles of driving ahead of us tomorrow, is it a good idea to stick around until 10:00 when they open? By the way, that drive takes us south, which might beg the question, why’d we drive so far north today if we just have to turn around and drive south already?

Back in May when this trip was being planned, we were going to drive from Phoenix, Arizona, to Brookings, Oregon, which takes a solid day and a half. According to that plan, we’d hit Cape Lookout and do some hiking up this way before visiting Tillamook for lunch at the Blue Heron French Cheese Company for smoked brie sandwiches and taking a few packages of smoked brie home with us in the ice chest that would have been traveled with us in the car. In May, the flights and car rental were just too expensive to reserve, but when checking on a whim in early November, I saw the prices were now a lot more reasonable, and I even found a non-stop to Eugene, Oregon, that is only 75 minutes away from the coast, we booked flights. The problem was we also had all of our accommodations reserved, and yurts are not easy to come by around the holidays.

The original plan had us enjoying our last night in Oregon at the Umpqua Lighthouse, where we are driving tomorrow. Seeing we were no longer staying the night in Trinidad, California, I canceled that and hoped to book a second night at Umpqua, sold out. Had we canceled Umpqua, there’d be no refund, and while it’s only about $50, we love that place, and a second night at Cape Lookout wasn’t available either. Carl G. Washburne Park only has two yurts, and those are in high demand, so that was sold out, too. I found availability in Bandon at Bullards Beach in the south, so that would have to do, even though it meant a lot of yo-yo driving.

Going to sleep only lasted seconds before something that was irritating my lower leg earlier in the day really started to bother me. I reached down to investigate and realized I either had the biggest zit at a place on my body where I’d never experienced one before, or it was a tick. Panic riveted me out of bed. I grabbed a headlamp, and – the horror of horrors – I found a tick embedded in my leg and nearly wanted to throw up. Wow, Caroline packed the tweezers and, to the best of her ability, grabbed hold of the ugly monster and yanked most of it out of my leg. Now I have to try sleeping with its mouth parts still attached in the depths of its burrow; this is the stuff of nightmares.

A Coastal Fable, Oregon Style – Day 6

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Welcome to Day 6! The first five days of the vacation are behind us, and in 5 more days, we’ll be arriving home, but I’m getting too far ahead of myself. This was a crazy day for taking photos, but fortunately for you and me, I was able to avoid using the nearly 1,000 I shot and am presenting you only 63 of the best ones. By this time, unless you are going in reverse chronological order through these posts, this image should be starting to look familiar; it is our view south of the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven.

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

All my original notes about this day were handwritten in the evening and have found their way to the bottom three images of the post. After nearly 20,000 words penned for the previous days, I might like to tell myself I’ve reached an impasse, but, like the waves of the ocean, things must keep going forward and arriving at the shore.

Ocean Beach in Florence, Oregon

Even rocks do not stand in place forever as the elements of time work to disrupt them, nudge them, and break them down to the point that upon their return one day, they’ll be but a part of the sand others will walk upon.

Ocean Beach in Florence, Oregon

If reincarnation was a thing, one might wish to be brought back as a rock. Imagine you were cast out of the earth from a firey volcano 70 million years ago at the Black Rock Desert volcanic field in Utah. Through heavy rains and flooding, you are carried into the Great Basin and stepped on by dinosaurs until one day, a cataclysm kills them and buries you in ash but not so deep you can’t make friends with microbes and bacteria. You are submerged for millions of years until further flooding deposits you in a river bed where you watch fish swim by, and mammals arrive on your shore for a drink. In the 1920s, you are scooped up and transported to the Oregon coast, where you (and many more rocks) are used to reinforce the area next to a highway. One day, you fall into a ravine and are carried to the shore, where you sit on a beach, waiting for the ocean currents to pull you into the deep sea, where another million years will pass before you are sand. Knowing your existence is fading fast, you hold your ground, denying the ocean your presence, but it’s just a matter of time before you disappear to be reincarnated as a bristlecone pine tree.

Ocean Beach in Florence, Oregon

Right there in the watery mist, moves along John the Neutrino, passing through a droplet on his journey elsewhere. Reincarnated in the sun 8 minutes 3 seconds ago, was just passing Earth when he bounced through the atmosphere on his way to distant galaxies. Having already been a tree, a rock, a mussel, a man, and a molecule, it was time to try out being an exotic particle. If it were possible to choose our next iteration, what might we pick? I think most would lean towards becoming the same thing they were last time as we are creatures of habit, stuck in routines that hopefully don’t present us with too much uncertainty.  However, I believe that our very lack of intentional energy creates uncertainties that lead to emotional turmoil and great unhappiness. But if that’s what we’ve normalized, then that’s our reality. I’m out here normalizing dreams, fantasies, designs on the interpretation of realities, thoughts about the lives of things we don’t consider sentient and love that’s bigger than the moon.

Ocean Beach in Florence, Oregon

Just imagine there are 57 more images I have to write to following this one; I’d wager you are riveted by the anticipation of what comes next.

Highway 101 north towards Yachats, Oregon

In a normal universe, this road would be busier than the line for Pirates of the Caribbean, but we live in a kind of Fantasyland, which is ironic because Caroline and I are currently in a real Adventureland, although my reference points to the book by Kurt Anderson titled, Fantasyland: How America Went Haywire: A 500-Year History.

Neptune Beach South in Yachats, Oregon

Into the enchanted forest, they ventured, not knowing what they would find.

Neptune Beach South in Yachats, Oregon

Oh, is this an emerald-covered fountain of wealth or just a long-neglected drinking fountain covered in moss?

Neptune Beach South in Yachats, Oregon

His and hers?

Neptune Beach North in Yachats, Oregon

After our brief forest interlude, we took a look at Neptune Beach South, which had been our destination in the first place.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Slowly meandering north, we’ve made it to the Devils Churn yet again. While walking down the path, we came across three golden hairs we’re taking with us in case they come in handy.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

It is a finicky thing, the Churn, because it has a bit of Goldilocks nature and needs all conditions to be just right. If the water is too low, the surf just washes in and out, too high, and while it’s splashy the crazy foam being randomly shaped into psychedelic form misses the mark.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

From the nearly 100 photos I took hoping to capture something I could call art, this was the best I got, and while it shows some minor potential, it’s nothing compared to when this work of the devil is producing perfection.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

The reward for biding our time down below, waiting for the perfect wave, was this display of crepuscular rays.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Hey, is that a leprechaun over there? No, you are confusing your folktales, but I did catch sight of a dwarf; remember to be nice to him.

Yachats, Oregon

Right here, through this window across the way and above the mirror image, are the loaves of bread that will fend off the grumbly lions of hunger, allowing you to return to the Water of Life in order to save yourselves. While the flock of birds to the right in the shallows might be easy to spot, can you see the sea hare? Probably not.

Yachats, Oregon

There’s a narrow road that runs along the seashore on the south side of Yachats. We were desperate to find it because, according to a sign a couple of hundred feet south, it would lead us to a state park. Unsure if we found the right place while turning on the unmarked road, it was just a bit further down that a sign showed us we’d reached Oregon Coastal Site 77, a.k.a. Yachats Ocean Road. I’m guessing it’s now unmarked due to the high-priced homes with their snooty residents that sit behind the road who’d like it to be a private drive for their own enjoyment and not us tourists. We stopped for a minute at the water spout, happy that we had managed to see it at the right time.

Yachats, Oregon

Not only are we on the other side of the inlet, but we are also on the other side of breakfast. Across the way in the left half of the photo is the Yachats Ocean Drive I was just writing about; as a matter of fact, you should be able to make out the spray from the spout I captured in the other image.

Yachats, Oregon

If you know us, you know that we love Yachats, so how is it that not only had we never driven the Yachats Ocean Road, but we also failed to visit the Yachats State Recreation Area north? Today, that has been rectified.

Dolphins in Yachats, Oregon

For our efforts to see it all, we are rewarded with the view of a pod of dolphins surfing waves. Not having time to change lenses as they traveled south, I snapped off a few images, but even with the best one I got, I had to zoom in so far that the inclusion of this photo was in doubt. Caroline insisted that I include it as a reminder that not only were we experiencing more blue sky days than we’d counted on, but we were gifted the opportunity of seeing dolphins, too.

Yachats, Oregon

Should we one day become witness to a sea maiden, we’ll be sure to strike no deals as we have no sons to promise her, and we are now too old to bear children, even for a plentiful harvest of fish or certain knowledge. This is in reference to The Sea-Maiden, which in its original Scottish Gaelic language is A Mhaighdean Mhara. This fairytale has two versions, one by John Francis Campbell and the other told by Joseph Jacobs; both effectively tell the same story with minor differences. In Ireland, the tale is known as Tom Fisher and John Fisher; in Canada, look for Mac an Iasgair Mhóir  (The Big Fisherman’s Son), while in the United States, a version is titled The Witch From the Ocean Waters. All of the stories are about someone seeking something, a sea-maiden offering assistance, followed by trials to retrieve or gather what was desired.

Yachats, Oregon

Returning to the ocean with my sea-maiden Caroline, the quests of what we seek are relatively identical from year to year, but the narrative of the fairytale changes ever so slightly in each subsequent visit. The seeds that are planted within us bring us back to the shore in an attempt to discover what deal our imaginations have made with this force of nature. Certainty of what tasks must be completed to reveal truths is never fully revealed, maybe to keep our own fairytale alive.

Yachats, Oregon

Excuse me while I go collect my Pot o’ Gold.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

If Cetus were not already stone, I could imagine that sea monster walking right out of this corner of the ocean in an attempt to destroy my very own Nereid, Caroline the Hag Fish Queen. And before you history buffs get started, I don’t care that we are at the Pacific Ocean and the myth I’m referencing is from the Aegean Sea; this is my story.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

Meanwhile back in reality, we are at Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua and were about to visit an old shell midden that’s protected by a wood housing while surrounding vegetation is allowed to grow over and around it, probably to better hide it. It appears that a proper trail once brought people out to the midden; a fading sign tells of what’s being protected (hence, we know it’s a midden), but learning anything else about its history cannot be had as it is mostly illegible.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

The trail continued, and we had little better to do than continue our exploration on a path we’d never traveled before.

Spouting Horn south of Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

When the trail forked over on the left, we were offered this view of the Spouting Horn, only to be seen at high tide. Thor’s Well is nearby; if you look closely at the shadows on the right, you can see someone standing near the famous “Drainpipe of the Pacific.” What we didn’t know at this time was that we were starting to move past high tide and that by the time we got over to that side of Cape Perpetua, the Spouting Horn would be done performing for the day.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

Lucky for us a couple of people came walking around the rocky coast, which gave us the idea that we could go a little further and maybe have a gander to the north.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Whoa, we are at the mouth of the Devils Churn on the oceanside, and while we’ve seen crazy people venture out this way from the Churn side of things, we’d never seen people walk in from this side, but that’s exactly what we are getting to do this afternoon.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Seeing I already shared a couple of photos from the Churn earlier in the day, I opt to share what the turmoil at the mouth looks like.

Devils Churn in Yachats, Oregon

Instead of returning the way we came, we chose to close the loop on the paved trail that would take us back to Cove Beach.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

We now return you to the regularly scheduled programming.

Cove Beach at Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon

Right over there, can you spot her? She’s a little whispy shadow of a fairy, ephemeral and rare, but if you look real hard, you just might catch a glimpse of her, and with that breath, she was gone.

Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

And with a slightly bigger wave, I think those two guys standing at the precipice of Thor’s Well might have been quickly gone, too.

Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

This is the vantage I prefer, far away and with nobody out there triggering my anxiety that casualties might be part of the sights we took in today.

Caroline Wise at Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

And, of course, Caroline needs a closer look, and in keeping with my feeling that she’s responsible for her actions and that she’s not careless, I gird myself, cross my fingers, and hope she doesn’t get too close.

Caroline Wise at Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

I present you with Wanderer above the Sea of Ocean, which is not a painting by German Romantic artist Caspar David Friedrich.

Near Thor's Well at Cape Perpetua Scenic Area in Yachats, Oregon

Mirror Mirror on the Ground, Who’s the Fairest of Them from All Around?

Cummins Creek at Neptune Beach South in Yachats, Oregon

We searched high and low to no avail; the promised troll or ogre we anticipated finding was nowhere to be found, not that we thought it would come with a Pot O’ Gold, rainbows, unicorns, or magic, but still, it’s about time to see a troll or ogre out of folklore after having had to encounter so many human versions.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

If darkness was descending right now, I’d be nearing the end of this post, but we’d returned to Rock Beach for a reason, and it had a little something to do with all of these rocks you are seeing.

Anemone at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Yep, it’s low tide, seriously low tide and we are not ones to miss the opportunity to further push our adventure into the realm of mythological experiences.

Barnacles at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Did you know that a round cluster of dragon toes is called a bordello? Yeah, I just made that up, and not just the bordello part; these are not dragon toes.

Barnacles at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

I wonder if tiny barnacles tell each other folk stories on ancient barnacles that used to rule the oceans back when they were bigger than whales and could eat an entire school of fish with a single flick of their feeding apparatus instead of being relegated to eating plankton down here in their tiny barnacle gardens.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

While searching if there’s a condition afflicting certain people with a need to always be on the search for beauty, I came across some writings about Stendhal syndrome, where people become ill when taken in by too much beauty. Named after a French writer who is quoted as, “My soul, affected by the very notion of being in Florence, and by the proximity of those great men whose tombs I had just beheld, was already in a state of trance. Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty, […] I had attained to that supreme degree of sensibility where the divine intimations of art merge with the impassioned sensuality of emotion.” Followed by, “As I emerged from the porch of Santa Croce, I was seized with a fierce palpitation of the heart (the same symptom which, in Berlin, is referred to as an attack of nerves); the well-spring of life was dried up within me, and I walked in constant fear of falling to the ground.”

So if he can have a syndrome named after him, I’m offering the world a new condition to be known as the Wise Malady, where one is refreshed anew in the ecstasy of aesthetic awareness, budding knowledge of the world, and a searing desire to learn more.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Regarding the persons afflicted by this incurable Wise Malady, you will notice their need to overshare about their adventures; they may show you minor iterations of images that, to the normal person, appear quite similar, but the sufferer can distinguish vast differences that create significance. Take this image, two photos below you’ll notice that the sky is almost identical, but because this one shows sunlight reflecting on the beach and the other shows the reflection of the man’s wife in a pool with larger rocks before her, he felt that this distinction warranted the inclusion of both images. Obviously, this man is in the throes of being ruined by the Wise Malady.

Barnacles at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Take this scene here: just stupid barnacles that have no economic value, an arm of a sea star pokes out of salty water that is undrinkable, and a background that the photographer cut off, thus depriving viewers of the opportunity to appreciate the greater landscape. I’d go so far as to call this photo a perfect example of la merde, thus proving the contempt of the person capturing this and their blindness to the fact that not everything can be beautiful.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Obviously Photoshopped in order to serve the delusions of a Wise Malady sufferer. Tragic.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

As the guest narrator of this part of the blog and an expert on the described condition we are discussing, I am free to inform you that should I share with you the reasoning behind the author/photographer believing this was worthy of posting; you’d request the Société pour l’Application de la Laideur to make an immediate arrest.

Barnacles at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

They really do kind of look like dragon’s toes, don’t they?

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Photo number 4 in the long sequence of “Sunsets That Last an Infinity.”

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Yesterday, I was wondering out loud about what appeared to be a place where barnacles once lived and that it looked as though they were scraped off. Here I am today, looking at something that appears similar, and I’m left thinking that this is fungi.

Caroline Wise at Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Sigh, my fairy queen of the hagfish, magical empress of snails, bewitched goddess of the banana slug, and precocious princess of the wandering anemone taking a moment from her mission of non-stop coastal discovery to smile at me; such a treat.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Now, excuse me, my terrific wife; there are moments of the sunset that demand my attention.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

There are 916 mussels, 1742 barnacles, 121 anemones, and five sea stars living on this rock. I know because we counted them.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Give me a second while I calculate the decreasing number of moles of photonic energy that are reaching us and thus cooling the air. I’ll return as soon as the math is finished, which will give us a good idea of when we need to seek shelter from the encroaching night.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Bidding adieu to this type of day is a long process as the eyes have grown greedy by now. We are not willing to turn away and risk missing a moment, knowing that not everyone is afforded the luxury of witnessing such things, so we must see it for them.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

And then, just as you think it’s about to end, something shifts, and it all starts again.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

You look to the north and sure enough, incredible beauty that way.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

Look to the south, and astonishment drills the senses with magnificence that can only exist in fairytales.

Sunset reflected in the windows of the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Once upon a time, there was this perfect day when, under a glorious sky, a couple allowed themselves to get lost, first along an azure shore followed by a meandering path through a verdant forest. They were not on their way to grandma’s house; they were not looking for gingerbread; they thought they were on their way to breakfast.

For nearly four hours, they walked along without a care, with the magical sea and enchanted forest delighted to lead them astray in mesmerization. Each successive turn demanded another step forward as forces beyond their imagination pulled them into this day.

Big waves at high tide and big trees with the radiant sun dispersing its light into the mist were working insidiously to distract the pair from their goal of reaching food. The glistening waters offshore threw millions of sparkling points into their eyes, as though nature knew that the two wouldn’t be able to turn away and consequently could not leave. While the trees painted the way forward in shades of green from which humans find it nearly impossible to turn away.

John Wise and Caroline Wise at the Shags Nest Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

When they finally break away, another sign from the heavens (or was it the Oregon State Parks?) throws up a figurative stop sign with subliminal directions to again turn towards the sea. It starts dawning on this naive nature-loving duo that they’ve entered a puzzle, maybe of Twilight Zone gravity, that inexplicably is only allowing them to cross the 8 miles from their cliffside nest to breakfast in the nearby village at barely a walking pace.

Out on beaches, trails, through the forest, over bluffs, and careful steps across treacherously slippery rocks, the more they hold hands, tell one another of their love for the other, and exclaim their appreciation of the beautiful morning, Old Mother Nature starts to lay down the breadcrumbs that led the twosome to the Drift Inn Cafe where breakfast was had. Utilizing the lowly razor clam, Dungeness crab, and shrimp they were provided with such glorious treats that fairy tales cannot compete with such opulence. Even had it not been perfect, and according to legend, they both agreed that it was far better than being eaten by wolves or baked in an oven by an old blind witch.

No, this is not the story of Hansel & Gretel but the love story of John and Caroline, who, now well-fed, were ready to discover the second half of the day under the sun, in the woods, and along the shore.

Rock Creek Beach in Florence, Oregon

In the 10-mile stretch between Yachats and Rock Creek, we visited nine sites requiring 10 hours and nearly 964 photos before we were able to find our way back to the Shags Nest for our last night living in this part of a fable.

Never too Gray in Oregon- Day 5

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

The ocean is dark this morning under stormy skies. At the moment, the winds haven’t arrived, and so without further ado, we breached the comfort of shelter to venture into the potentially wet day. As always, when out on the Oregon coast, we are excited to see what comes next; at this point, we are just hoping for breakfast and a walk. I did get the order of things backward here because we stopped at Stonefield Beach to see the differences between yesterday’s low tide and the approaching high tide this morning.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

The view was disorienting as things shifted so dramatically that the only certainty was our uncertainty regarding just where we’d been. There wasn’t a reflective beach or a thing signifying what we’d seen.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

To our left on the south end of the beach, I find familiarity with that little cabin atop the cliff where, late yesterday, I snapped a photo of Caroline to the west of it out in what is now the ocean.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Standing between the cliffs and the sea, I try to decipher what is visible and wonder if there’s any opportunity to determine just where we are, but it all looks so foreign. It’s as though amnesia struck overnight, leaving us with only the name of the place we’d been while erasing most everything else. It also seems that even now, back in Arizona, while I’m trying to write about that morning, the ocean is still playing a game of amnesia with me, denying my imagination the words that might convey other aspects aside from the obvious.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Just like staying out here on the shore under uncertain circumstances regarding what the weather would bring, I’ll remain vigilant, sitting before these images and looking for that change in the situation that will inspire an interpretation of things no matter how difficult it may be.

Caroline Wise at Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

With a tiny, nearly imperceptible amount of wind starting to pulse, it was time for the kid in this relationship to break out her kite that had been stowed away for such an opportunity. Running upon the rocks didn’t work out, so we headed back to the sandy part of the beach where Caroline could really give it a go.

Caroline Wise at Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

For a full minute or two, the elation of flight took hold, as seen in her smile, but as the wind died, so did her hope until, once again, her invisible friend grabbed hold of the kite and tried pulling it high into the sky. Again, smiles climb upon her face as she starts to sense mastery over the one sport she might be good at.

Stonefield Beach State Recreation Site in Yachats, Oregon

Spotting this perfect cairn, we realized it was pointing us to breakfast, and so we accepted its guidance and headed into town. Yachats is a tiny outpost with barely 1,000 people living here, and yes, I wish we were two of them. Services are thin, although there are around a dozen restaurants that, at this time of year are not open at the same time. We had two options and went with the somewhat sad place we’ve eaten at before that will remain unnamed to help a business that’s likely not making anyone rich. It served its purpose. Sitting at the window, we watch as the wind kicks up and, with it, the rain racing northward. Our hopes of taking up a table at the Green Salmon Coffee House are dashed as they are closed today through Friday; the same goes for the Bread & Roses Bakery. The only thing left to do is go plant ourselves in the Nest if we don’t get distracted on the way back.

Caroline Wise at the Shags Nest Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

If you don’t think I got worried when Caroline voiced her desire to go fly her kite on our tiny deck sitting atop a steep cliff, you’d be wrong, as in my imagination, it wasn’t beyond impossible that a sharp wind would take her and that pocket kite aloft and drop her a couple of miles out to sea. I could only bite my nails and hope she’d know the right moment to let it go. Luckily, the wind was so strong that all the kite wanted to do was dive into the bushes to hide from the insane forces beating it into submission. Caroline, now equally beaten, conceded defeat and brought herself back into the warmth of our cabin overlooking the raging tempest.

Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Between staring mindlessly out the window and trying to write a thing or two, I tended to a pot of black-eyed peas that would certainly be the comfort food befitting a wet gray day.

Caroline Wise at the Shags Nest Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

On the far north side of our deluxe chateau, Caroline took to the Barcalounger (which happened to be invented in Buffalo, New York, where I was born) and with yarn from Cambria, California, (picked up recently on a trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium), she sat oceanside in front of a massive picture window with her cup of Heiße Liebe tea (Hot Love) to work on my newest pair of socks. Not that Hot Love tea is necessary for such moments but this looks like love to me.

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

Sitting before our window at the Shags Nest or sitting in a coffee shop, there are times when the mind would rather meditate. There’s a need in all of us at times to allow the lines to blur and let the uncertainty of what comes next take hold, to just kick back and listen to the full length of a favorite album or watch the surf roll in.

View from the Shags Nest at Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

A lot of nothing has passed by though somehow we remained busy in that nothing. The black-eyed peas allowed us to stay in, enjoying one of our favorite comfort foods while not budging from our perch. As the day went on, it appeared that we might be able to start growing moss due to our near-total lack of activity.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

But then the clouds started breaking up. Always in need of accumulating more steps on our path to walking into better health, we decided to go check out Bob Creek though I figured we’d quickly pack it in and return to Stonefield for more hopeful encounters with wild sea creatures temporarily living outside of the ocean.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Just then, the Eye of God looked down from the sky and commanded us to give good ‘ole Bob Creek a proper chance, and, well when God speaks, atheists listen.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Oh wow, tidepools featuring exotic lifeforms we’d never witnessed before! I thought this would sound better than saying we’re just seeing plain old mundane sea stuff we’ve seen a hundred other times, which wouldn’t be true either because neither Caroline nor I have ever seen a barnacle that wasn’t far more interesting than any Kardashian or wet noodle clinging to our colander.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Mussels with barnacles provide space for other barnacles. It turns out that mussels attach to other mussels using excreted stringy fibers called byssal threads. While working with adhesive threads is interesting enough, it is the barnacle that is truly amazing when it comes to attaching itself to things. You see, before it settles down, the baby barnacle is adrift looking for a suitable home; when it finds one, it uses body fat to clean and sterilize the surface. Once that is done, they deploy a mixture of six different proteins to glue themselves to their perch, be it on a whale, ship, rock, turtle, mussel, or another barnacle. This glue is said to be multiple times more adhesive than anything made by humans.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

This obviously brings me to the size of the barnacle penis, which, Caroline informed me, is the largest in proportion to the body size of all species on Earth. A little bit of internet searching confirms this, but my imagination takes it to frightening lengths. First, I’m seriously intrigued that the lowly barnacle is able to change the size and shape of its penis to meet local conditions for mating, but it is the length that baffles the mind. I need to put this in perspective: the average American male is approximately 5 foot 9 inches tall or 175 centimeters. If we could whip out what barnacles can, there would be situations where our penis would be a respectable 552 inches long or about 46 feet in length (14 meters). At this point, I think our wieners would be weapons, and I, for one, wouldn’t appreciate the guy behind me in traffic on a summer day with my windows down casting his tool into my car, maybe even into my back seat, looking to mate. If penis length is the root of all intelligence and power, as many men believe them to be, then the barnacle should be the hero of any young man’s youth.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Comparatively, there are thousands of miles, possibly a million or more miles of penis before me.

Barnacles at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

As far as I know, and not that I’m willing to research information on this particular type of seaweed, there is nothing very peculiar that should be found or shared concerning this plant. Heck, I don’t even know the name of this seaweed, so I’ll call it Suzie.

Anemones at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s nothing left to tell you about anemones nor of my most obvious impressions of delight that are taken when seeing these meat eaters. Oh wait, there is that small detail about its mouth being its anus.

Anemones at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I think these anemones might have swallowed some raver’s glow sticks during a beach party.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Hi blue sky, nice of you to come out to see us! Might you be letting some sun through your veil in order to astonish us with another majestic sunset?

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s something about these rocks that feel as if they’d been sculpted by fast-moving water like that running through a river. Was Bob Creek at one time a river bed?

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

Like sunburned skin, these rocks appear to be peeling. Upon closer inspection, it looks as though sheets of barnacles were removed, but after just learning about their superglue qualities, the question arises: how’d this happen so uniformly across areas?

Caroline Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

While I can speculate about the various species temporarily exposed to our senses out here, and I can use the internet to learn more about them after I go home, I cannot really know where Caroline is when she stands before the ocean and examines the scene. If I ask her, the answer is likely to come back that she’s just looking at stuff, but what does she feel? What is offering her wow moments? Are we seeing the same things, or are our eyes focusing on absolutely different things?

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

While the sea stars capture my eyes first, it is the more than 50 anemones that got me thinking about how they decorate their body as they do. While they are curled up with their tentacles withdrawn, maybe the camouflage helps them avoid predatory crabs because at night, while the anemone sleeps, the nocturnal crab is out looking for food.

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

In an effort to demonstrate fair representation and give an example that I don’t have a bias for orange sea stars, I present you with no less than half a dozen purple sea stars, or are they burgundy in color?

Sea Stars at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

In a pinch, sea stars will eat anemones, but what they are really interested in is the abundance of mussels that live here on the rocky shore.

Caroline Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I can’t say I’ve explicitly thought or expressed this before, but these excursions and the subsequent photo prep and writing requirements hold Caroline and me in these environments well after we’ve left a place we were visiting. The lingering begins as I bring photos in for cropping and color adjustments, and then I identify where each was taken. As one day is finished, Caroline joins me to whittle the selection down to the best representations and I guarantee you that there’d be a lot fewer images posted here if it were up to my ruthless wife. And then, if I have taken notes, those are transcribed from the notebook as I work to decipher my handwritten words. As those are matched to photos, there are huge gaps between images because there is no way to write in the field about specifics, and who knows which photos and impressions will find their way here? During what amounts to rewriting what’s in the notebooks, I also find inspiration to write about particular images due to something or other that’s striking me at that moment. Finally, I set down to fill the empty spaces. In the case of this post, it’s now 31 days after we stood at these tide pools, and we are still, in a sense, visiting the Oregon coast. One last thing: before this ever gets pushed to the public, Caroline applies her deft editing hand to bring (or at least attempt to bring) to clarity those things I found relevant, capturing memories we’ll hopefully return to in many years to come.

To belabor a point, I’m not playing video games, watching TV, or otherwise wasting my time with frivolous things as this adventure continues to travel within me during the weeks since we left the seashore. I find this luxury to be incredibly valuable: instead of impressions of vacation being made and quickly fading, I indulge in examining details over and again to possibly know more intimately what would otherwise be difficult to carry with me.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

A moment arrives when I see glimmers of insight that I’m the foible; my desire for knowledge driven by curiosity is a weakness as it informs my disappointment that so many in our species do not truly share that quality. It is here at what amounts to a mussel farm that I see that many of these mussels will be sacrificed as food for birds, sea stars, fish, and even us humans. So, it behooves the local mussel population to just keep cranking out mussels as its evolutionary knowledge understands that the greater the number, the greater the chances of surviving all disasters or sacrifices. Why have I failed to see this behavior in people? I’m often crushed by human stupidity and don’t want to accept that it is our norm, but why should the average person be any smarter than a mussel? Their presence is to ensure there are seeds and eggs available tomorrow should something catastrophic befall us. In this sense, what I consider stupid is nothing more than the norm, and I the anomaly, an intolerant foible of our species’ presence who simply isn’t happy sitting on the rock attached to a million clones who don’t mind being part of the collective.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

I am transfixed by this inky pool that rarely exists. It can only appear during negative tide situations while the rings are created by the water dripping from the mass of mussels hanging overhead. As surrounding rock is eroded by the motion of the sea, making what looks like toadstools above the ocean floor, the harder rocks obviously make for a great home if you are a mussel, barnacle, sea star, or anemone. The patterns that ripple across the surface are trance-inducing. If I had the proper equipment, a video might better allow me to experience them again, but instead, I prefer to rely on images and words to freeze what once captured my attention. I’m guessing the mussels around me give little care to the evolving aesthetics and only look forward to the comfort of the sea and returning to the place they know so well.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

At this very moment, I was cultivating my inner barnacle and working on a new shape.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

We walk below the sun, below the sky, and this late afternoon, we are offered the chance to walk below the surface of the sea that would typically cover this edge of the shore. There’s nothing easy about leaving here as long as there’s light that allows us to find our footing. We attempt to go further, hoping that more of the mysteries all around us are revealed.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

We use art to bring impressions to people who are not able to witness the breadth of patterns for themselves. Those with the great fortune of seeing rare sights or having been able to cultivate great thoughts bring back approximations of what things look like or how they might be thought of. In this way, the anomalies of our species task themselves with bringing culture back to the tribe, possibly in order to elevate all of us from the ground we are fastened to.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

A triptych by Mark Rothko could hardly compete but if it were the only possibility for a city dweller to see such a thing, I suppose the surrogate will have to do.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

There’s no pussyfooting around this one, I saw a stone vagina fringed with bright green mold looking at this, and so it’s included. As a matter of fact, I think it compliments the vulvic impression I spotted while on a Mystery Valley hike near Monument Valley earlier this year. If you are interested, it’s the 36th image down on this post.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

This might have been a rainy day where the comfort of a warm room and a pot of beans could have held us in cozy contentment, but instead, we were drawn by the potential that something might be happening and that we’d benefit from investigating that change. Our reward was not only trying to fly a kite in the windy rain and witnessing the temporary nature of a fragile and elegant cairn; we were allowed to gaze in on the secret lives of those who live outside of our view.

Bob Creek Beach in Yachats, Oregon

And so the curtain is being drawn shut, signaling us that time has arrived for us to depart.

Ocean Haven in Yachats, Oregon

I am back at the table I’d been writing at earlier in the day and on a previous visit. At night, there is no ocean to see, only my blurry reflection in the window that kind of looks like this guy. I hear the ocean but it’s a steady white noise, no collapsing wave sounds, just the hum of the shore machine down below.

Mostly, I’m here not writing, not reading, not really watching much of anything. Maybe this is more of a meditation, though that would be accidental as I’m simply here. Occasionally, it occurs to me that I could be doing something more specific, but I don’t want to expend the effort as nothing feels comfortable. Then a trigger of micro-panic attacks me that I’m missing the opportunity to explore a thing, a subject, a frame of space such as the gap between a barnacle and a mussel if one even exists. Time goes by.

Hey, let’s step outside. Nothing like a good rain to cleanse the air, opening the sky with a clear view of the Milky Way filled with as many stars as we might humanly be able to take in. With no moon in sight, the night is as dark as it can be