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
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