Portland 2: The Return (Oregon 10)

The final day dawned grey and overcast, which made for a good excuse to wear my Patagonia and Stu's flannel, so it wasn't all bad. We got up early-ish to give ourselves time to re-pack our bags in a more seemly manner and give Wendel a once-over tidy. We swept out sand and leaves, removed shoe prints from the dashboard, and pulled the top layer of dirt off of the windows. We took our time because we had enjoyed Wendel so much, and it almost felt like a thank you, then we hopped in and drove the last 50 miles back to where we started, Portland.

Driving Wendel through the city was much easier this time, which we chalked up to being older and wiser (and savvier with Wendel's quirks). We made the trek in rush hour and while it was certainly the most vehicles we had seen on a road during our trip, rush hour in Portland has got NOTHING on the DC-esque traffic we were expecting, so we actually had an hour and a half to spare before we had to part ways with the Vanagon. We used our time as any good Oregonian would: we grabbed chai and donuts at a place that had been on my Portland breakfast wish list (there were several more entries than Portland mornings so I had to be selective.)

Pip's Original was second on that list, but I hadn't expected to be able to go since Stu thought it was in a difficult location, way off to the side of the districts where we were staying. So we took our opportunity while we were still mobile (and honestly it was super close to Wendel's home anyways). Pip's makes enough different types of chai tea to offer a full-on tasting flight, and we decided to lean into that by ordering ourselves an impromptu flight of their mini-donuts to go along with it. We managed to take a picture before we'd completely eaten everything, but it was a close thing. The chais were all surprisingly different from each other. One tasted almost like a thai iced tea, and another used chamomile as the base tea. The donuts were something special, too, like a very high-class version of hostess powdered-donuts; my favorite were the ones topped with a maple and bacon jam while Stu preferred them covered in cinnamon sugar, honey, and nutella (who could have guessed that?).

After we scarfed down everything we had ordered quickly enough to make me slightly embarrassed, we enjoyed the cool digs, and especially the other patrons sipping out of their mismatched chai flight mugs, referencing the tasting notes and thoughtfully discussing the pros and cons of each chai in serious tones, just as we had. 

Reluctantly, we returned our dishes to the busking bins and nabbed Wendel. Time to take him home.

As I mentioned, Pips was quite close to the place where we needed to drop Wendel off and it went by so quickly. Then we were there, and I was knocking on their door and telling his owners about our lovely trip and how much we had enjoyed driving Wendel, and then we were grabbing our bags, handing over the keys, and walking off. It was like pet-sitting for a long time; where you become devoted and then you give the animal back to their owners but in your heart, they are your pet now because you are so attached to them. I'll admit that my eyes were a little misty, and it took me about a hour to break out of the funk and strangeness of being Wendel-less once more.

However, the recovery started with a lovely shower in our Airbnb where we had wandered to clean-up and drop off bags before truly starting our day in Portland. While it wasn't the vintage-cool of a Vanagon, our accommodations were much more spacious in a very cool (aesthetically; it was actually a bit warm up there and we kept the fans going) lofted space with lots of quirky details like a brass, claw-footed tub, and a pulley light in the kitchen counter-balanced by a mini cast-iron skillet.

Once we felt clean and respectable (I did my hair AND put on make up!), we grabbed a lyft to take us up to Northeast. I had been told that Portland's charm lies in its funky neighborhoods and to really see and enjoy Portland, we needed to commit some time to simply wandering around in one of them. I picked the Alberta Arts District, because the name seemed promising, it housed a number of lauded food pods, and is home to several unique boutiques marching down along Alberta Ave. We started with lunch as the Piedmont Food Pod.

Food Pods are semi-permanent food-cart venues where several vendors in trucks, trailers, shacks, etc. have set-up to serve a variety of offerings in parking lots, etc. They are something Portland is known for, and do a lot of the heavy lifting for the city's foodie reputation and, obviously, they were high on my list of Portland-musts. This one was not inviting from the outside, but once you had turned the corner into the Pod, you were greeted by a village of DIY decor and inviting chalkboard menus interrupted by sets of tables and chairs in various colors and styles.

There were Hawaiian bowls (more spam, less poke), fish and chips, 'health- conscious' counters, BBQ, thai, gyro, kebab, etc, etc. I got a chicken curry from BurmaSphere that knocked my socks off but Stu won this round with a kebab from a German-themed stall that made us nostalgic for the magical street food of Heidelberg. It was equal to any of our food-memories from that trip across Europe in 2015.

The rest of the afternoon was spent strolling down the main strip of the Alberta Arts District, both window shopping and stopping occasionally for a bite or a drink (you know, to keep our strength up). This part of Portland felt a lot more like I had initially expected from all my research and close-held stereotypes. Shockingly bright hair colors and nose piercings abounded, and a lot of the shops we ducked into were a certain flavor of weird and unique. We picked up a couple of small dirt- and fruit-loop-scented candles (that's two separate scents, don't worry), visited a boutique specializing in bespoke camping accoutrements (specially-sourced firewood included), and giggled through the Witch-and-Cat store (which is exactly what it sounds like).

We stopped part way through when Stuart spotted a pie and cocktail cafe where he grabbed a slice of Brandied Peach and I sipped on an Afternoon Delight (both were very delightful). Finally, we ended up at a brewery (Great Notion) which took the idea of adding flavors to various beers way too far. The Sticky Bun porter tasted more like maple syrup than malt and the blueberry one struck us as more of a breakfast novelty than a drink. Ultimately, the notions were only ok at best (badum tss).

As evening approached, we decided an encore Food Pod performance was in store (our first experience was just so spectacular!), so we hiked east to the Mississippi-Skidmore Food Pod, which operated in tandem with the corner bar that it spilled from, Prost! (note that exclamation mark is part of the name of the german bar, not just me being excited). We simply sat for a bit at the overcrowded picnic tables with a couple of seriously good german beers while we weighed our food options. A couple of beers later, we ended up with a smoked pastrami Reuben from Pastrami Zombie (which was also incredible) and boisterous conversations about board game and then video game philosophy with our bench-neighbors.

We decided to walk for a bit to help digest and see some more of the city, and ended up so content that we strolled through all 3 miles back to our Airbnb. We did happen to stop briefly at Burgerville  (we weren't wholly sober) to satisfy the effusive recommendation of our Whatum PCT hiking compatriots (it was good, in the vein of Shake Shack and In-n-Out, but sadly not up to either of those counterparts).

Finally, we wobbled the last couple of blocks home for the night, to be ready to get up early-ish to meet with some old friends tomorrow morning.

Good night from "1898 Urban Victorian Loft Near Convention Ctr."

Chelsea and Stu

Canonical Beaches (Oregon 9)

The showers were everything we could have hoped and we had a luxurious 24 minutes of hot water where we got rid of the worst of the grime and shaved. Then we made coffee and tea while breaking camp and made a plan for the day. Originally, we had planned to dip into the Willamette valley for wine and fruit but after Hood River, we thought it might be nicer to extend our time on the coast instead.

Obviously the first stop was for coffee and breakfast. We stopped at a likely cafe a few miles north of camp which featured cheddar bagels and a drink called a jumpstart. Much to Stu's delight, this turned out to be two shots of espresso poured into a cup of drip coffee. I made him promise to drink it slowly in an attempt to avoid arrhythmia. The bagel-based breakfast sandwich we split was delicious though.

Satisfied, we continued putzing our way north to Hug Point beach. We walked across the wind-whipped sand to see the tall stone structures located just off the coast. We took pictures and wrote our names in the wet sand, as no beach trip would be complete without our signatures on the final page. Then, as with each of our stops over the past couple of days, we once again continued north.

Cannon Beach is THE beach of Portland, a little over a hour and a half outside of the city, and quaint with it's main road of galleries, breweries, and the requisite toruist T-shirt stores. It also houses several restaurants and features some cool rocks jutting out of the seascape. We parked and waked along the main thoroughfare until we happeded upon yet another smokehouse. Too late, we realized that this has been the common thread among the best food adventures of our trip. 

This smokehouse was a forest green outpost, a block off of main street with a crest of wild boars and a tree aflame over the door. I ordered the fanciest corn dog you could imagine. A smoked sausage as long as my forearm dipped in a homemade cornbread batter and served with a whole seed mustard and a sweet/hot mustard that burned like wasabi. Stu ordered the real standout- a smoked lamb gyro with tzitziki, red onion, and feta on a buttery pice of pita, served with chips. The whole thing was enhanced by the surf-bum artistry of our waiters/Cooks/bartenders to the cooll vibes of a Jack Johnson backdrop. 

We spent a little time wandering through the shops before continuing on to seaside which featured a highly lauded wine tasting at the Buddha Kat. This vineyard is famous for their fruit wines (I know, I, too, was skeptical going in), but they dabble in more traditional grapes as well. Everything was surprisingly good: Stu liked the fruit wines (heathen that he is) and I liked their oaked gewürztraminer and rosé. Altogether an interesting wine tasting, especially when paired with their diverse selection of board games, which lined two of the walls in the small shop.

Finally, as our last act on the Oregon coast, we grabbed some tacos before heading inland to find a campground for the night.

For as terrible an experience as last night had been, this made up for it. The camp host was friendly, the sites were wooded and plentiful, and $5 bought us a full wagon of firewood. I just picked 5 or 6 pieces off the top for our last campfire much to the polite bewilderment of our host. Setting up camp was a well-rehersed ritual we savored.

Our last night with Wendel is proving to be a bit bittersweet, just like the bottle of blackberry wine Stuart couldn't resist at Buddha Kat. So here we sit alongside the last embers of the fire, empty bottle beside us, and the knowledge that we'll have to return Wendel in the morning. It feels a bit like a Sunday evening, with the sure knowledge that these are the last few hours of weekend, even knowing we still have a full two days of exploring in Portland ahead of us.

Good night from Spruce Run.

Stu and Chelsea

Forest Hunting (Oregon 8)

Stu and I woke up feeling refreshed after what should have been a stressful night at the overlook but ended up being one of the highlights of our trip thus far. We took a little time to appreciate the view before getting on the road, and not overstaying our welcome. We were also anxious to get going because I had heard about a bakery in the next town which served platter-sized handmade cinnamon rolls and other creature comforts called the Nelscott cafe.

It's a smudge of a store front just off the 101 as you enter Lincoln City, but the magnificent cinnamon rolls were cooling in a tray on the counter when we walked inside and a smattering of locals and tourists were camped at it's tables over variously extravagant breakfasts. I obviously sprang for the cinnamon roll which was a glorious confection of lemon, carmelized cinnamon sugar, and cream cheese frosting that uncoiled as I went, while Stu tucked into the scouts breakfast, a "country Benedict" of biscut, sausage, and poached eggs drenched in sausage gravy.

Stu chased his down with some black coffee (of course) while I was presented with a hot chocolate monstrosity. 20 oz (at least) in a novelty bee hive mug with a pile of whipped cream and a generous handful of rainbow star sprinkles on top. Needless to say I was thrilled and intimidated in equal parts. It took us a while to get through it all and we decided lunch would almost certainly be unnecessary .

Rolling ourselves back into Wendel, we went on a bit of an adventure to find the Valley of the Giants, a mythical valley full of 500+ year-old squoias, firs, and other trees. After an hour and a half of fighting with Google, ill-maintained forest service roads, and a lot of backtracking and circling, we never managed to get closer than 10 miles to the Valley, ending up with nothing more than a couple of "walk-in only" signs. We finally decided to throw in the towel and move on to the next stop on our itinerary: the Neskowin Ghost Forest.

My previous Googling and blog-hopping had led me to believe this was a bit of a thing, but the 'Forest' itself ended up being completely unsigned. We made our way to Neskowin beach and began our hunt. After walking the whole length of the beach, I managed to finally pick out a couple of small spires sticking out of the ocean in the troughs of waves and we realized that the Ghost Forest is actually a low-tide phenomenon.

So, real quick, a little backstory on the Forest-- the Neskowin Forest is a petrified forest dating back several hundred years, when the coast was farther out. The trees were sheared and petrified following a volcanic eruption leaving a clearing of stumps that occasionally stand up out of the waves. Supposedly, it is not particularly unique except in it's nearness to shore, allowing it to be viewed from the beach. Most require a dive into the cold waters with an educated guide to find.

We arrived at high tide. Like, exactly high tide to the minute. But, seeing as we'd already failed once for the day, we refused to lose again. Also, Neskowin beach happened to be beautiful and fairly uninhabited, which sweetened the deal a bit. So we headed back to the parking lot, grabbed snacks, books, chairs, sunscreen, and an Italian sandwich from the deli across the road (okay, so we reneged on the 'no lunch' thing), and trekked back across the sand to the sunken forest.

As we sat and enjoyed the temperate Oregon afternoon, the ancient stumps and spires rose slowly from the waves. The black figures did, in fact, shine like ghosts of their former selves as they grudgingly became visible over and through the receding waves. We hung out for a couple of hours until a true forest formed from the individual trees.

Begrudgingly, we took down our chairs and continued on our way up the coast, heading for a detour off the 101 that winds through three scenic capes- thus the name "Scenic Capes Route". It was scenic, although it was hard to follow an act like Neskowin, especially as a dense fog rolled in to smother some of the more spectacular views. Frustratingly, the final leg of the route was.closed with only minimal warning, so we backtracked and the cut inwards towards Tillamook.

Yes, that Tillamook, the one you splurge for when you want a nice sharp cheddar, but not cheese-counter nice. We think the town name came first, but it's a close race. The whole town is devoted to it, the highschool football team are the called the Cheesemakers. Yeah. Stu dug in his heels and refused to go to the sprawling campus which includes a creamy, factory, gift shop, market, and several other buildings that we couldn't identify from the outside. Instead we ate across the street--literally at the Old Oregon Smokehouse, which ironically only offered fried food. To be honest, Stu had been craving a greasy fried seafood joint since we passed up Crabs! in Newport, and I was hoping for a refill on the jerky-no dice but we did have some textbook newspaper fish and chips alongside the kind of guys who could take a bite of cod and tell you it was a bitch to reel in. I'm posting one pic of Stu gloating over his meal as he gazes at the tour-ons in front of the Tillamook sign, but there are several.

Also visable from our vantage at the smokehouse was a turnoff for a campground set back off the 101. We decided to go for it, given the campground situation we ran into last night.

Long story short, the campground was a mistake. We were delighted when we found there were still open spots, but it turns out it was only partially filled for good reason. The campground was overly expensive and very KOA-like: closely adjoining sites and a lot of screaming kids. We definitely regretted not going for another scenic overlook, even if we did glimpse of another good sunrise.

But on the bright side: showers tomorrow! I'm looking forward to being properly clean for the first time in 8 days. My hair is itching with anticipation.

Goodnight from the worst campground.

Stu and Chelsea

Coastal Driving 101 (Oregon 7)

We woke up slowly, and after we had packed up camp, we went back down the the pier to enjoy our coffee and greet the day on the water.

From there, we made our way to the coast proper seeking the Oregon Dunes. The Dunes stretch along the southern third of the coastline, between the 101 and the Pacific, and when we pulled into a rec/day use site, we had a high vantage where we were able to easily see the stripes of forest, dune, and then ocean. 

We took the trail down, and Stu took the opportunity to sprint down the dunes with great bounding strides while I enjoyed the feel of my feet in the cool, very fine sand. There was only a narrow strip of sand at this site, and on the other side we were rewarded with our first view of the Pacific, stretching infinitely towards the horizon.

 To Stu, I think it felt like coming home and the joy seeped out as he sucked in the salty air which he assures me is unique to the Pacific, and took in the long and empty stretch of beach which are so hard to find on the California beaches of his childhood. We played in the water for a while, allowing our toes to defrost sporadically, and enjoying the snowy pipers, gulls, and occasional hawk that came near to greet us. 

As lunch time encroached, we reluctantly hiked back to Wendel and then drove on to Florence, for lunch at a hidden gem of a Hawaiian restaurant called Hukulai. We got pineapple cider, edamame guacamole with mango pico and taro chips, and some excellent sushi rolls. Then back to the dunes.

When I read about the dunes, I'd imagined vast egyptian-esque landscapes that you could sandboard down, and ripples of wind dragging through the surface of ever shfting mounds of sand (unreasonably or not). Since our first escapade into the dunes was not that, we tried again after lunch, going to an area that Stu's google-fu assured us was the duney-est spot around. It was more sand than we had found on our first expedition but not the Saharan monsters I'd been imagining. Good for more of Stu's sand sprints, though, and directly abutting the ocean. We spent a little more time enjoying the water, and then I built a sandcastle, which Stu accused of having certain similarities to female anatomy. I made some turrets, and thus arose the soaring edifices and stalwart walls of Fort Teton. It shall guard that section of beach until it is eventually overcome by the eternal tides. 

Satisfied, we returned to Wendel and continued up the 101 to Cape Perpetua, home of several "notable" water features. Basically, there's a lot of rocks in Cape Perpetua that have been eroded into shapes that make the water do kind of cool things, and they're all named like the mom from Waterboy is on staff-- devil's churn, spouting horn, Cooks chasm, and our favorite, Thor's well. The well is a big, deep, hole out near the edge of the rock that seems to drain endlessly at high tide, and spout water at low tide when you can approach it. Ultimately, it's just a hole, but it is a very exciting hole with lots of angry sea rushing through it. We walked along the whole, under-signed area trying to identify the critical features and navigate the hiking paths that didn't really exist except on the map. Twas an adventure, and we think we found a few features they should note for future like qetzlcoatl's demise and smugglers buck tooth. 

Stu was especially looking forward to our next stop, Newport, as all the food guides had highlighted restaurants there. We were obviously going to be doing seafood,  so the choice was between Mo's Chowder (turned out to be a chain where you had to enter through the gift shop so we ruled it out), a place that looked like it's name was "Crabs!" from what we could discern outside (promising...and we still regret not going a little bit), and Local Ocean, a gourmonds take overlooking the fisherman's wharf. The food was everything we'd hoped: seared scallops on a bed of asparagus and Oregonzola (yes, you read that right), grill-kissed albacore tuna on a salad of mixed berries and balsamic, and half a Dungeness crab to top it all off.

Afterward, we strolled along the bay district as we digested. Alongside one pier was a set of floating platforms covered in sleeping sea lions, who were taking turns being agitated by late-comers trying to claim spots among them. We also found a number of candy shoppes, at which we availed ourselves of pixie sticks, rock candy, jaw breakers, chocolate truffles, and a caramel apple. Not all at once, despite my best efforts.

Since we had stayed for dinner, we left Newport a little late, and campsites along the coast had been surprisingly sparse near us. With Labor Day looming, the three campsites we checked were already filled. However, one helpful ranger handed us a magical list which listed the "Highway 101 Safety Rest Stops" on which you could park overnight without fearing a knock on your window at 2am. The next closest was only 8 miles up the road.

"Safety Rest Stop" doesn't do justice to the large scenic overlook we found just as the sun was setting below the Pacific. We parked and sat through the majestic yellows, reds, and finally purples before popping Wendel's top and making our bed. In that moment, sitting parked at a scenic overlook, admiring a beautiful Oregon sunset through the windshield, and knowing we could close the curtains and wake up to a sunrise in the same place, I felt like Id earned the right to trade peace signs with other van campers, and we are ready to fall asleep to the sounds of the waves crashing below. 

Good night from Boiler Bay Scenic Viewpoint. 

Stu and Chelsea 

Laundry Day (Oregon 6)

Our day started with another Hot Spring- Umpqua- on recommendation from our experied local at Terwilliger. It's quite a hike in, past "picturesque" outhouses and up precarious trails cut into the side of the the ravine. It's perched up at the top, near the head of the ravine, overlooking the creek babbling below and a wall of trees on the opposite slope. 

There are four uncovered rock pools of various heats scattered around a large dug out pool under a ramshackle shake roof. Our bathing compatriots were less picturesque than Terwilliger, but also less nude. Stu and I actually stepped up our games by losing an article of clothing each. It meant more for Stu. There were many more selfie-seekers and instagrammers, which detracted a bit from the ambience, but I actually preferred Umpqua over Terwilliger overall. It was smaller, more intimate, less densely populated, and had far better scenery (nature-wise; we missed the hippie).

The rest of the day was devoted to necessities. We topped up our water supply, spent an hour or so at the laundromat, and worked our way out to the coast. 

That isn't to say we didn't find time for food. Along the way we made the requisite road trip stop at a pancake house. Elmer's served a delightful and generous German pancake and bottomless hot chocolate, as well as a "country cousin" skillet. Yeah.

As we hit the coast, the smell of a wood-fire oven caught me during a moment of weakness and we ended up with pizza and beer for dinner, both of which were top notch. It was enhanced (?) by some chainsaw Trump statues. Reedsport lacked literally any wine store, so we grabbed some Swill (actual name of the beer-which turned out to be GREAT) from a local liquor store and headed briefly north to the Tahkonitch Campground. 

Most of the sites were already booked up for Labor Day weekend as the campground is situated on a lake of the same name, and features a few boat launches. However, we lucked into the most private secret-hedge of a campsite and Stu was ecstatic. We spent the evening drinking swill on the pier and watching the sun set as we tried to catch up on the blog. Hopefully we'll have better service soon. 

Goodnight from Tahkonitch,

Stu and Chelsea 

P S. While in the laundromat, I found a discussion of the Westfalia Vanagon (like Wendel) that perfectly sums up the driving experience, if you're interested. 

https://www.google.com/amp/s/jalopnik.com/why-the-volkswagen-vanagon-westfalia-lives-up-to-the-hy-1797322823/amp