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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.