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
No comments:
Post a Comment