There isn’t much else that can be accomplished today except to compose a blog posting. It’s raining hard and the gravel roads here in the campground are showing signs of having an actual current. It’s entirely possible that Neskowin Creek is well on its way to becoming Neskowin River. Anyone with a fondness for the color gray would love it here. I wish that red and black Sportcoach that was in here last week would hurry on back – it went a long way toward brightening up the place!
But let’s go back back a few weeks to the Labor Day Weekend which we spent at one of our favorite campgrounds, Sandy Riverfront in Troutdale, Oregon. Troutdale bills itself as Gateway to the Columbia Gorge and boasts a quaint and colorful main street with an array of attractive shops. Flower baskets hang from the light poles, teeming with bright flowers. We’ve pretty much covered all the major attractions on previous visits to the area but this time we ventured to nearby Gresham to check out the local history museum (a unique building which began life as a Carnegie Library) and a very nice outdoor farmers’ market. The Columbia and Willamette valleys are noted for their agricultural products and the Gresham market boasted some fine-looking fruits and veggies. Elberta peaches and pluots made their way into our market basket. It was my first taste of pluots, which claim to be half plum and half apricot. The apricot half of the family tree was not obvious.
One of Sandy Riverfront’s quirks is that they encourage guests to wash their cars and coaches. As a matter of fact, they insist on it for their long-term guests. Howie decided to take advantage of that and spent a day scrubbing and rinsing, rinsing and scrubbing. I remember thinking this act alone would put an end to the drought in this part of Oregon and, sure enough, it has.
With the holiday behind us and traffic vastly diminished, we headed across Portland and on toward the coast. Our destination was a membership campground north of Rockaway Beach and we arrived in plenty of time to get set up and run to town to check out the highlights. There weren’t any. We did, however, make two trips to Tillamook during our six-day stay. We visited the local historical museum, made a stop for ice cream at the Tillamook factory and did a romp through the Blue Heron winery and gift shop. Tillamook also boasts an air museum, which we opted not to visit. It’s housed in an enormous wooden building which once served as a blimp hangar and is reported to be the largest open-span wooden structure in the world.
While most of the days in Rockaway Beach were cloudy (at best) or rainy (at worst), we did have a bright sunny day for a drive around a portion of the Three Capes Scenic Loop. One section of the loop was closed to traffic due to what was described on the signage as “an active landslide” so we had to take the long way around to reach the Cape Meares lighthouse. Rather than being perched at the very top of the bluff, the lighthouse is about halfway down the cliff so that your first view of it from the parking lot is of just the small room housing the light. There’s quite a walk involved to get to the main section of the lighthouse but the view is fabulous.
On our way back to Rockaway Beach we passed through the town of Garibaldi and discovered that the museum was open. It had been closed on previous drive-bys. Labor Day more or less marks the end of tourist season and so many of the seaside attractions are closed or have limited hours. The museum contained the answer to our question regarding the tall smokestack that more or less dominates the town – it is all that remains of what was once a large lumber mill.
The next leg of our journey brought us here to Neskowin where we were reunited with our fake relatives, Ruthee and Gail. We’ve taken to referring to each other as The Out-Laws (as opposed to in-laws). It didn’t take long to develop a routine…Happy Hour is at 4:00 if we haven’t had a big lunch and 5:00 if we aren’t hungry at 4:00. Another tradition is to have lunch at Mo’s in Taft, a bit further down the coast. Their clam chowder is world famous but perhaps not as famous as it once was. There was plenty of sightseeing on the agenda (between rainstorms anyhow) and we trekked north to Pacific City to visit the Cape Kiwanda shoreline where we watched surfers in heavy-duty wet suits trying to catch an uncooperative wave while under-dressed teenagers attempted to get kites up and flying. There are signs posted along the beach to keep an eye open for fast-moving dories coming ashore but we didn’t see any and had to rely on Ruthee’s description thereof.
On Wednesday we made the longer drive south to the big city of Newport. We arrived just in time to enjoy a bowl of chili at the Rogue Brewery at the harbor before heading to the historic district to troll into and out of a myriad of tourist traps. One of the most interesting sights along this stretch is the pile of sea lions on the pier. 
Every so often one would slip into the water or climb out, maybe bark a bit, but mostly they just lay there and pretend they’re having a sun bath. They had to be pretending because the sun had long since disappeared. Cloudy weather brings a certain moodiness to the harbor, as this photo will atest.
On Monday, another overcast day, Gail and Ruthee headed back “over the hill” toward home and I got busy plotting a route back to Geezer Gulch. Nothing seemed to interest me so I utilized what seemed like the shortest route which would include a couple of membership parks in order to keep expenses down.
With a couple of nice days predicted, we planned our jaunt back to Newport, this time swerving off to take advantage of the super-scenic Otter Loop which took us to the overlook at Cape Foulweather. The cape was named by none other than Captain Cook when he encountered 100 mph winds upon reaching the vicinity. Although we had nothing but blue skies and gentle breezes, it wasn’t hard to imagine how ugly it could be when Mother Nature decided to have a temper tantrum.
The visit to the Oregon Coast Aquarium was our primary purpose in trekking back to Newport. The admission fee is quite high, even for seniors, but when you’re hit with the information that it costs roughly $17,000 per year to feed one otter, the high fee becomes understandable if not tolerable. We were able to get a good viewpoint to watch the otters being fed their lunch. They slurped down those restaurant-grade oysters at an amazing clip and treated the shrimp like we’d treat potato chips – they’ll do until presented with something better. 
As usual, the display of moon jelly fish and sea nettles were hypnotizing. From the Aquarium, it was only a short jaunt to the old Yaquina Bay Lighthouse where we were able to get an excellent view of the 
Art Deco bridge which crosses the mouth of the river along with a view seaward to where the jetties are located. Although no longer in use, this lighthouse is the only remaining representative of the style incorporating both the light and the house on the Oregon coast and was saved from demolition by a troupe of local citizens.
With nasty weather fast approaching, we took one last opportunity to sightsee with another drive to Cape Kiwanda. Still no dories and no kites, either, but plenty of over-the-hill surfer dudes bobbing around in the waves. On the way home we passed the entrance to the Nestucca National Wildlife Refuge. We were able to drive to a small parking area atop a hill and I waited in the car while Howie hiked the entire way to the lookout platform. Even with the binoculars I didn’t spot evidence of any wildlife although that may have been a wren of some sort that flitted by just as we got back to the highway.
And we ended our visit to the Oregon coast with a quick trip to Lincoln City to visit their very nice Historic Museum. Lincoln City, as a civic entity, is fairly new having been cobbled together sometime in the 1960s from several other small towns strung out along the coast. There’s Taft and Oceanlake and…it doesn’t matter…it’s all Lincoln City now. The museum is nicely laid out with plenty of artifacts from the days of farming/lumber/fishing to the more recent industry of tourism. And while in Lincoln City we stopped to admire the D River. Although we are dubious of it’s claim to be the shortest river in the world. The D is considerably longer than that itsy-bitsy river in Great Falls which runs for just a few feet from a spring to the Missouri River. That river fits nicely into one snapshot whereas the D would probably require two or three. Why, my goodness, the D is so big that it requires a bridge to get over it.
We certainly hope to file the next blog from somewhere warmer and drier.
