We had a great night’s sleep at the (blissfully quiet) Trees Motel. The guests were of a similar age and stage of life. Ron noticed that everyone parked neatly in front of their motel rooms. I noticed the dignified succession of mature gentlemen cleaning windshields and checking tire pressures in the morning. Ron has dubbed the Trees Motel the “Del Boca Vista of the Pacific Northwest.”
We continued north on the Pacific Coast Highway toward the Hiouchi Visitor’s Center for the Redwood Forest National Park and Jedediah State Park, stopping along the way at the Simpson-Reed trail head. This loop trail wasn’t long or steep, making it perfect for us road-weary travelers.
There was a serenity and tranquility to this stand of 2000+ year old trees. At one point, Ron asked me to stand close to one while he took a picture, for perspective. I found myself sitting on a root burl, and I had the strangest sensation that I was sitting on a lap. As I was sitting there, I felt more than heard my name: “Linda, come closer.” I walked around the tree and found a hollowed-out place just my size to walk in, and I was instantly surrounded by a sensation I can only describe as a mother’s love.
Mother Nature? My mother's spirit? I cannot say, but I felt a deep comfort and a peace in this grove of ancient giants who have stood watch for thousands of years, finding everything they need to thrive in the moist salt air and mineral rich earth.
We headed north again, and within a few miles we were in Oregon. We stayed along the Pacific Coast Highway for the entire 400 miles of Oregon coastline, 100% of it public land. It has been interesting to observe the unique traits of our fiercly independent and equally fiercly united states, each state having its own look, voice, and even personality. Oregon appeared to me to be the land of Subaru’s, of kayaks and surfboards. “Where old hippies are reincarnated as surfers and hikers” observed Ron. The Oregon coast was dotted with young families, small children tucked in back packs or held by hand, older children scampering up the rocks and giant sand dunes and across massive fallen tree trunks. There were “old” families too, retired couples hiking, biking, camping, and touring. My favorite telltale sign: “Don’t Litter: Max fine $6,250.”
Driving along the coast took a few hours longer than the same distance on the interstate, but it was well worth it. We were not in a race, we came to see America, from sea to shining sea. Here along the rocky coastline of the Pacific Ocean were misty mountain pull-offs to view whales and sea lions. Here were cattails swaying in the cold spray and mile after mile of Oregon-grape bushes exploding with yellow-gold flowering blooms that will turn a purplish hue when the blossoms wither and berries appear.
We passed small tidy coastal towns and hamlets with Danish and Norwegian family names, like the oldest coastal town in Oregon, Port Orfold with its Crazy Norwegians Fish & Chips and The Quilter’s Corner. If we were handing out awards, Port Orfold would get a ribbon for quaintness!
We stopped briefly at the World's Smallest Harbor, Depoe Bay. We didn't see any whales, but noticed a plaque erected to honor two men who gave their lives in a rescue mission on October 4, 1936: "It is not true. Life is not slain by death. The vast, immortal sea shall have her own, shall garner to her this expiring breath, shall reap where she has sown."
The mountains hugged the Pacific for much of the coast, but about mid-state, space opened between them and lush green rolling farmlands appeared. Signs warned “Entering Tsunami Hazard Zone” in these lowlands. Other signs advertised for Raw Milk. The farms here were dairy farms, and in the town of Tillamook alone we counted three cheese factories, a dairy, and a creamery!
It was here in Oregon that we had our first car issue, requiring a Pit Stop. [Editors Note: the post “The Pit Stop” was published from the diner in the town of Reedsport where it was written, and therefore appeared out of sequence. Apologies for any confusion this may have caused for those of you with a ball of yarn and a box of push pins who are tracking our journey on the big map in the basement.] Due to the delay, we were still on the Pacific Coast Highway when the long twilight finally yielded to utter darkness around 10:00 pm. If I am honest, I must share that the coast lost all of its charm in the blackness of night, darkness broken only by the blinding headlights of the cars barreling toward us head on, and the trucks bearing down on us from behind. If there had been any place to pull off, we would have, but there wasn’t so we drove. We were rewarded with the stunning city of Astoria which sits on the Oregon side of the Columbia River, separating Oregon from Washington. Hallelujah, and good night!
Car Talk
Distance: 382 miles
Driving Time: 8 hours, 35 minutes
Mileage: 31.7 mpg
Average Speed: 44 mph
Trip Total: 4,980.6 miles
Editor's Note: For those who share my curiosity as to the difference between Sequoias and Giant Redwoods, here are some fun facts. The Sequoia naturally grows ONLY in California, in the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada. Giant Redwoods are only found on the Pacific coast from central California through southern Oregon. The Giant Redwoods are taller, but the Sequoias reign supreme in size. A Sequoias named General Sherman living in the Sequoia National Park is the biggest, weighing in at 2.7 MILLION pounds, standing 275 feet tall, and over 100 feet in width. It isn’t just the largest living tree… it’s also owns the title of largest living organism on the planet!
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