We decided on taking the scenic Route 101 to our next destination: Fort Stevens State Park, which is at the very tippy-top of Oregon, close to Astoria. The road was a lot curvier than Rand McNally showed on the map and the curves were soon getting the best of both of us. We were happy to stop at a local fruit stand and stimulate the local economy by buying overpriced Bing cherries from a young woman. We were in awe of her crazy amount of facial piercings. She slightly resembled a dog that’d lost a fight with a porcupine. We also stopped in a picturesque little town called Nehalem, where we visited some thrift stores to buy more cold weather attire, since we’re still heading north for another week or so. One store really threw us for a loop though: a discount food store in the back of a knick-knack shop. With empty stomachs and thinner wallets, we were almost tempted into buying some insanely well-priced granola, until we checked the expiration on the back. That bag of granola, along with every other food item in the store was greatly expired by more than a year or so (we also found soy milk, bread and rock hard gum).
Almost to our destination and out of gas, we stopped at a Chevron and quickly discovered that Oregon law prohibits anyone from pumping their own gas, with the exception of certain sulfur-grade diesels. We were shocked as a man in a reflective jumpsuit approached and asked to help us, offering different gases at a variety of grades and prices. We double-checked to see if someone had pulled a prank and hung a “Handicapped” sign on our rearview mirror indicating needing gas pumping-help. When he added that a full tank of gas comes with a complimentary cup of coffee, we were sure we had mistaken the Chevron for a Ritz-Carlton.
Fort Stevens was yet another state park with campsites right on top of each other. Our new neighbors had a huge electric grill, three coolers, a gigantic Gatorade thermos and a mini fridge set up outside and we wondered how this all fit into their van. Apparently, to fit in with our neighboring RV’s, we need to buy decorative glowing ball lights to hang from our car and tent, along with a windsock and/or wind chime accompanied by a wooden sign with “The Gehrigs” burned into it. This is very important while camping, so all of your neighbors will be envious of your hip camp set-up.
In need of a few groceries and string lights for our tent, we left the campsite. We drove out of town, and headed for Cannon Beach, one of the most famous beaches along the western coast. The boardwalk led us down through a beautiful cluster of Cape Cod style homes, wrapped in wines and stalks of a vast array of colorful flowers. Directly in front of us lay the famous Haystack rock, flanked by the Pinnacles on its left. It all looks just as it sounds (as you’ll be able to see in photos). We stared in amazement when I realized the entire Haystack was covered with nesting cormorants, puffins and gulls. It looked like a bustling Indian spice market; hundreds of birds were constantly coming and going, tending to chicks, fishing and battling mid-air with other feathered rivals. The tidal drop during the time we were there was extraordinary. When we first got there, Haystack Rock appeared about 150 feet off the beach and after two hours, an intricate network of tide pools formed directly in front of it, exposed by the falling tide. As a matter of fact, you could have walked right onto the rock if it wasn’t for the conservation signs keeping people off the nesting area. It was about 7 o’clock and most of the beach’s visitors had already left, so the few of us left on the beach were treated to a wonderful spectacle. This tidal area attracted a flock of feeding ducks and was absolutely overrun with hermit crabs, mussels, sea anemones and vividly colored seaweeds.
Like the case has been on most of the beaches we’ve visited, I couldn’t possibly take enough photographs as I ran up and down the beach, bending and stooping to take photos from different angles. Martina huddled on a beach blanket, covered in multiple layers, her blue fingers clutching her book in a death-grip.
Our last stop before going home was the local Laundromat for a well-needed laundry stop. We made this our home for a couple hours, used our wireless Internet device to plan the next stops on our trip and enjoyed the company of the townies in the busy establishment. Tonight’s dinner was another classy production on paper plates. Feeling like a million bucks with clean clothes, we arrived home to enjoy our neighbors’ eye-dazzling decorative lights before being lulled to sleep by the sound of bamboo wind chimes.
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