I can’t tell you what time it is as time doesn’t matter. Getting going this morning didn’t matter. Where we were going didn’t matter either. What we did know was that we had to go south as tomorrow we go north. But why would going north one day not allow us to travel north on the previous day? Our next lodging location is only about 25 miles north of Ocean Haven, and over the two days we’ll be up there, we’ll need things to explore. So we headed south today.

Having been south yesterday to Carl Washburne State Park, we decided to get past that, and the Heceta Head Lighthouse meets that criteria. For reasons unknown, we weren’t longing to stop at this lighthouse and so further south we ventured.

We didn’t get out of the pullout before I saw my next photo on this moss-covered wall. This is not a site one sees every day unless they live nearby, in which case this is likely a common occurrence, but for me, this is an extraordinary sight that requires a photographic reminder of one of the little details that make so much of this coastal journey so memorable.

Big vistas far into the distance. The beach stretches forever on a blue sky day when no blue sky days were in the forecast, adding to the charm, and we are bowled over. How can we be in a hurry to be somewhere when the place we are passing through demands we stop and gawk at the spectacle?

Like the moss-covered wall at the previous stop, the curve in the road from where we came caught my attention as one of the views that feels so indicative of what’s familiar about this coastal drive, so a photo gets added to the sequence of events.

Still on the northern outskirts of Florence, Oregon, we are about to pass the Happy Kamper Yarn Barn when I spot the open sign and whip into the parking lot. It’s been some years since we last stopped, as it just so happened that on previous visits to the area, it was either a Sunday or Monday, the owner’s days off. Determined to help the local economy the best we can, we leave with five skeins of yarn.

Lunch was courtesy of leftover chicken from last night’s dinner that had been transformed into chicken salad. The coffee is from our coastal coffee favorite, Dutch Bros. The dock was at Gardiner on the Umpqua River. Would you believe it if I told you that the quiet away from the ocean was a welcome soundscape?

Last year, we tried visiting a nature preserve on Bolon Island but couldn’t find it for the life of us. Today, we found the Tide Ways Island Memorial Park, which must have been what we missed back then. The walk is a short one next to a boatyard. There’s a sign near the beginning of the trail that tells of the double-crested cormorants and the guano they leave on the plants in the area that remain until the next rains. We saw a small bit of cormorant poop, but not enough to bag up and drag home as fertilizer for our cacti. Have I ever shared with you that we have something for mushrooms?

Five minutes later we are at the end of the trail. You don’t even get a proper scenic view, but we get to add this to our ever-growing list of places we’ve been on the Oregon Coast.

We’re in Reedsport and stopping in at the Timber Faller’s Daughter shop. Last year, we flew into Portland and drove Interstate 5 south of Eugene to Drain, Oregon, before turning west to head out to the ocean. Just before reaching the 101 highway, we spotted a sign for yarn. Of course, we stopped. But the Driftwood Farms Yarn & Candle Company was closed. That shop is next door to the Timber Faller’s Daughter, and its owner let us know that the woman who owns the shop next door was at a Clam Chowder Festival down the road in Coos Bay. Off we went for chowder and yarn. This year, we are determined to buy something from the lady who helped make last year’s trip just a little more memorable. Carrie, who owns Timber Faller’s Daughter, specializes in crafts and fabric but also has a few yarns, roving, and a nice supply of notions.

Carrie’s friend Paula was also in the shop, socially distanced and masked up, too. I’m happy we hung out a while and barged into their conversation because we learned that Paula has recently taken up dying with lichen and mushrooms. As a matter of fact, she had three bundles of roving she’d recently dyed as her first experiments, two with lichen and one with mushrooms. The wool she used was from Natalie the Jacob sheep and the lighter roving was dyed with Old Man’s Beard lichen, and the darker brown one used Foliate Lichen. The third piece of roving was dyed with Western Red mushrooms that have a pink hue.

I offered to buy her work so Caroline might bring it into something when we get back to Arizona as a more personal memento of a thing deeply connected to the Oregon coast, but Paula insisted that I not pay her a thing. I tried a couple of angles to get her to accept our money as a donation; instead, she suggested I make a donation to the shop, so I handed Carrie the cash. Then, from her kindness, she went and grabbed some other roving dyed with Slippery Jack mushroom, which is a creamy tan color, and tore off a hunk for us. I’ll be posting photos of the roving after we get back home.

Next door is Driftwood Farms Yarn & Candle Company, which Caroline headed over to as we didn’t know when they closed, but we knew that Timber Faller’s Daughter was closing at 3:00, and we were getting close to that. Last year, we grabbed a green skein of yarn which has already become socks, and now we have two new skeins, one destined for socks and the other a scarf. Caroline picked up a skein for herself along with some buttons and a yummy dark chocolate bar with black fig. Seeing it was only about 3:15, we realized that we still had time to get down the road for a lighthouse tour but we’d have to move fast as they stop at 4:00.

Umpqua Lighthouse is an all-time favorite destination on the coast. Why this lighthouse stands out is likely due to its amazing light signal that features one red beam and two white beams before the cycle repeats. More about that shortly. We arrived on time, and the guy in the gift shop, who wasn’t sure if anyone was available to give us a tour, quickly found the person who was happy to do that for us. So off we went into history.

This was our second tour of the lighthouse, though I cannot find the blog entry that details the first visit. Our memories tell us it was back on one of the trips my mother-in-law Jutta was visiting, but who can be certain? In any case, this feels like the first time we’ve ever been here. Tom, our guide this afternoon, is knowledgeable and enthusiastic, qualities that are perfect for us, especially when this ended up being a private tour for just Caroline and me.

The history of this fresnel lens is worth the price of entry alone. The French company F. Barbier made it in Paris in 1890. This large 1st-order lens was one of only a small handful they made in the company’s history; today, it is priceless. We learned that the red light, filtered through the red glass, which was made this way using a process involving gold, has to be supplemented by surrounding pieces of red glass to compensate for the 30% loss of light that occurs due to the red filter. The signature of the light is one red beam and two white beams that are 4 seconds apart and continuously repeat as the fresnel is spun around the light source; the sequence is a total of 15 seconds. What makes this a 1st Order lens is its massive size that can focus its light out about 20 miles to sea.

Standing on the stairs and looking directly up in the lens is like poking your consciousness into another dimension. It’s certainly from another age, as it’s highly doubtful that these complex lenses will ever be built again. Nor will new lighthouses dot the landscape as GPS and electronic beacons have mostly replaced these iconic structures. Even this lighthouse might not be around forever as it’s corroding, leaving one to wonder if the local municipality that now manages it will have the kind of money that could be required should major structural renovation become necessary.

Getting so close to evening, we decided to hang out a bit longer so we could see the lighthouse working its magic, but first, a bit of sunset.

Just around the corner, we’ve stayed at the Umpqua Lighthouse State Park a number of times, in the yurts specifically. On those visits, we come out here multiple times per night to enjoy the silent symphony of light that gracefully floats on the trees surrounding the lighthouse. You can’t imagine how peaceful and simultaneously festive the red and white light spinning slowly on the forest is. In the distance is the sound of the ocean, but up here, more often than not, we have been alone to enjoy this 128-year-old fixture. Tonight, though, we’ll be heading back up the road to our place along the ocean and will have to dream about lighthouses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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