Tall Trees

This was a day of tall trees, historic towns, and sweet desserts.

From Crescent City we headed to Jedidiah Smith State and National Park but not, of course, before enjoying breakfast at Great Harvest Restaurant, the same restaurant we dined at the night before.  From the coffee to the orange juice to pancakes, amelette, bacon and sausage, we ate well.  The restaurant prides itself on organic, healthy food.  The coffe was local roasted; the orange juice fresh squeezed.  The eggs were not only local but cooked in either rice or olive oil.  Real butter was used on the toast, pancakes, and potatoes.  The potatoes were small reds, done well to our liking.  The bacon and sausage was local and free of nitrates.  We ate well and much!

Our drive to the Redwoods gave proof we were no longer in Oregon.  The coast was not rocky; the grasses were brown.  We actually drove through a corridor of tall trees isolated from the park giving us a hint of what was coming.  When we entered the park through an access not popularly used, the road was one car narrow and wound through the trees, so tall it took three pictures to cover one tree from trunk to top.  The width of these trees varied.  The widest more than a car width.  The sun was obscured by tree tops.  No breezes blew where we were.  The stillness and the quiet were notable.  We took three walks, each giving different perspectives of the land and the trees, themselves.  Yes, they were all redwoods, and tall, yet each tree had its own story, its own character.  To see one was not to see all.  I'm afraid my pictures do not do them justice.

Remember, I'm standing below holding my camera as high as I can pointing straight up!  You still can't see the top.

The roots of these giants don't go much deeper than six to ten feet.  We read that they are subject to high winds and floods.  What holds them up is that the roots spread far and wide and tangle with the roots of their neighbors forming quite a web.

Sometimes they fall.  When that happens, they may take down others in their path or somehow find a path with no resistance.  These fallen giants helped us truly appreciate their size.

One of the paths we trod.

Compare the size of the trunk of this tree to Roger's height.

Another effort to show how tall they are and how dark is was at their base.

Not a tall tree but a wonderful twist.  The vegetation on the ground around these trees is predominantly ferns.  A few deciduous trees manage to grow but they are dwarved in size and number.

We left the park and headed to Jacksonville, Oregon, a town on the historic register.  It was a quaint but the old buildings were put to modern use.  Little history there.  We did dine under an ancient wisteria vine and enjoyed a glass of Oregon pinot noir and a chicken sandwich on foccacia.  They were in the midst of a festival and that night featured a concert by Harry Connick, Jr.  We, however, headed on to Ashland and we were glad that we did. 

Ashland was a small town of a little over 20,000 and the home of a university.  We found it a vital, upscale city.  Clean, inviting, offering several book stores, both new and used, as well as antique venues.  Bicycles and outdoor outfittting were in abundance.  The people were either out age and sporting a 60's look or much younger and sporting tatoos and piercings.  In other words, the inhabitants were a colorful bunch.  We passed several tempting restaurants and a couple of historic hotels.  Ashland is home to a Shakekspeare festival and that was in evidence everywhere.  We checked out Omar's, the 1946 oldest restaurant in town.  We had dessert, decadent and large, at an upper crust restaurant attached to one of the historic hotels I mentioned above. 

We were back in Oregon and getting from the redwoods to Ashland meant passing numerous vineyards and orchards.  We were back in lush, productive country.

On our way to either Jacksonville or Crater Lake, I'm not sure which, we stopped to take a botanical trail.  The feature here was the "darlingtonia" (I think that's the name but maybe not the spelling).  They get their nutrition from insects that get trapped in their "pitchers".

Jacksonville, Oregon, one main street of restored and recycled old, old buildings.

Another stop on the way to either Jacksonville or Crater Lake.  This was a park where boats put in.  I know it doesn't look like boats below in this water but we saw two strange looking vessels.  Two pontoons, a small platform supporting a chair.  The people in the chair held long oars, I suspect used not to paddle but to push off of rocks. 

More of the Oregon Coast

This day was dedicated to the Oregon coast.  It started with breakfast at a unique cafe located in the historic section of Florence.  Rustic in decor and proud of their Christian beliefs, the owner and the servers displayed information regarding Christian book clubs, concerts, and church services.  These didn't seem overly aggressive as they were all print items in the style of the rest of the decor.  You didn't have to read them.  I ordered a raisin bran muffin and coffee while Roger had a piece of fresh picked, wild blackberry pie.  He believes it was the best blackberry pie he's ever had.  This was just our breakfast appetizer as we moved on to an organic restaurant (not really much of a distinction as most of the restuarants we ate at in Oregon served locally grown, organic products) for the main portion of our breakfast.  Unfortunately it was forgettable unlike the rustic, homey atmosphere of our first stop. 

We backtracked a bit to see the Sea Lion Caves, a worthwhile stop even though the sea lions were all in the water and not in the cave.  We were able to see them floating in a group, just lazing in the water.  An occasional bark let us know where to look.

Roger at the entrance to the elevator that takes us down into the cave.

Not sure, but I think this is the entrance to the cave.

Hard to see in this picture but near the middle there are several sea lions basking in the water.

This banana slug was making its way across the walkway at the Sea Lions Cave.

I couldn't pass this without getting a picture.  I regret we didn't go in.

The rest of this day was filled with scenic turn-offs and parks and short walks, generally involving downhill first and up hill last.  One walk was through a sea captain's formal garden displaying the various plants he brought back from his travels.  Another allowed us to walk right down to the shore.  Most allowed wonderful vistas of the cliffs, rock formations, tide pools, and plant life.  When blackberries were within arm's reach, you can bet Roger helped himself.  Fragrant, wild dill was abundant at one stop.  An aggressive little squirrel demanded my attention as I tried to get a picture of him.  I'm pretty sure I was the more skittish.

The farther south we got, the greater the difference in terrain and vegetation.  Less a wet wonderland, less green.  The sea, however, was ever present.  We stopped in Crescent City, a working man's city.  When Roger asked the lady at the motel desk for a rustic place to eat, her response was, "Everything in this city is rusty."  Roger gently corrected her and she recomended three possibilities.  The first was perhaps a bit too rustic for our taste.  The second was too seafood oriented for Roger.  The third, was just right -- Harvest House.  After a large meal and good beer, we returned to settle in for the night. 

Climbed sand dunes to get these pictures, something we didn't find farther north.

The sea captain's garden was delightful but seemed out of place.  Such formality surrounded by nature's landscaping.

As you can see, we found sea lions.  At this stop any bit of rock sticking up in the sea was covered with them.  Barking was loud, numerous, and constant.  No sea lions chose to settle on shore, only on the little rock islands.

Day Three, The Oregon Coast

The day started at The Blue Sorcerer for breakfast.  They have an interesting policy -- the door is wide open even though the opening hour hasn't been reached.  We walk up to the door and discover a hand-written sign that tells us early birds are welcome for coffee and breads only.  The fresh baked goods and breakfast items won't be served until 8:00.  The place itself faces the street and is uphill from the river giving a pretty good view of river activity.  There is a magazine kiosk with quite a variety of magazines for sale -- for example, one for bicycle enthusiasts, one on organic cooking, an astrology tomb, Mad magazine, among others.  No Family Circle or O or People.

When our order was taken at 8:00 on the dot, Roger ordered the special French toast with yogurt, red plums, and kiwi.  I had cherry/hazelnut granoloa and yogurt.  All that and our coffee were provided locally, definitely organic, and tasted healthy and wholesome.

The rest of the day was spent driving along the coast starting at Seaside and ending at Florence.  Starting with rain and sprinkles, low lying fog, clouds and wind and ending with clear skies and a lovely sunset.  Ecola, Three Capes Scenic Loop, Otter Crest Scenic Loop, Cape Meares lighthouse -- these were among the many stops and walks we took.  We saw more rain forests, one in particular that was draped in mist and had trees so tall the sunlight was shut out resulting in a dark and mysterious feel.  We both felt we could have fallen through a time tunnel and come out in a prehistoric age.  I wouldn't have been too surprised had a dinosaur reached down and scooped us up.  It was one of the most other worldly places I've ever been.

We saw haystack rock formations along the coast beaten by never ending waves.  The gray sea churned and boiled wearing away rock and soil at the weakest points, leaving behemoths of rock, cut out inlets, cliffs.  We saw a few homes precariously perched on the highest points.  One turned out not to be a home but instead a tourist store so we were able to get a real feeling of what living close to the edge would be like.  I took many pictures in a futile effort to capture the grandeur of this coast.

Surprisingly, we passed numerous antique shops, several of which looked so inviting.  It pained Roger to not stop but in his words, "This is not that kind of trip."  Perhaps in some future time we will head to Oregon again allowing ourselves much more time to not only take in the sights but also to stroll the antique shops.

We finally stopped at Florence, took a hotel, Old Town Inn, and then walked to the historic Old Town Florence.  Arriving at near 6:30 pm meant the stores were closed but there were several restaurants open.  Located on the Suislaw River, fish were a major menu item.  We decided to once again follow Frommer's advice and dined at the River Front Depot Restaurant, a small, delightfully intimate setting on the river.  That it was so busy we could only be seated at the bar tells you a little about the food.  The menu was on a huge blackboard hanging above the diners opposite the bar. 

Dining at the bar has its advantages. We were totally entertained by the bartender. I don't think we've seen bartenders quite so active or take so much pride in their performance. She was surely one of the hardest working bartenders we'd ever seen and clearly she took pleasure in her creations. Spanish coffee, flamed liqueur, carmalized sugar, Mojitos, and others. The food, while we couldn't see it prepared, gave every reason to believe that the chef was cut from the same cloth as the bartender. Delicious! I had crab encrusted halibut; Rog had some kind of beef. It all disappeared! We walked home and settled in for the night.

Day Two in Oregon

Sunday in Portland started at the Byways Cafe, a well noted but homespun cafe with a specialty in breakfast.  Well, actually we started at Starbucks less than a block away as our day started, as always, earlier than most.  Well, most customers.  As we walked by Byways we saw a young man at the counter.  We decided the prep work was being done and potatoes were boiling.

Once seated at Byways, we were enchanted.  Clearly Byways has been around a long, long time and little has changed.  Black and white checkered linoleum floor.  A lunch counter with low red leather covered stools.  We sat in a booth and admired the travel memorabilia displayed in glass cases, wooden framed and hanging on the wall.  Salt and peppers, little figurines, state named items.  Above the window and the back bar were several license plates, not especially old.  The place evidenced wear and care (the care based on the cleanliness).

Rog had biscuit (a very LARGE one) and gravy (butter and good sausage evident in abundance and flavor).  I had cinnamon challah French bread, pecan butter, maple syrup (the real stuff!), 2 slices of bacon, and one egg.  Everything was great.  Oh, yes, Roger also had home fries, while good not up to the standard of the rest of the fare.

From there we headed to the Columbia River Valley.  Upon landing we knew we were not in familiar territory -- lots of hills and evergreens, not many deciduous trees.  Heading north and east only magnified that impression.  Everything indicated a temperate rain forest environment.  Moss, ferns, lichens, mushrooms growing in profusion on any surface not moving.  Tree trunks and branches.  Stones, walkways.  The trees were incredibly tall, reaching ever upward for what rays of sun the day provided.  Clouds hung low on hill tops and in valleys.  When the sun would reflect off these wisps, they would glow, the vista ever changing, depending on the winds and whims of weather.  The lushness of plant life was impressive.  Wild berries, huge flowers.

Our first stop was an overlook of the Columbia River.  I can only hope my pictures do it justice.  In the distance we could see a fortress or churchlike building.  It seemed perfect for the fantasy setting.  Little did I know it was our next stop!

Vista House, grand and glorious views.  From there we stopped at three or four water falls.  Each required a short walk (from half to three quarters of a mile) which allowed us to truly experience the rain forest.  The falls were awe-inspiring.  Again, I hope the pictures tell an accurate story. 

The last falls was the highest and maybe even the best but it was also the one that everyone stopped to see and it required the least amount of walking.  It was far too crowded to really enjoy.  As we ended our drive on Historic Highway 30, we were both satiated and expectant.

Our next stop was the Columbia River Power House and Fishery.  We were able to view salmon and sturgeon making their way up the fish ladder and to learn about how the fish are bred and maintained.  Hard to believe someone sits for hour after hour counting the fish as they move through.

Next stop, Hood River, an attractive city located on a hillside nestled in the beauty and grandeur of the region.  I pulled out our Frommer's to find a suitable place to have lunch.  We chose Double Mountain Brew Pub.  We parked four blocks uphill from it.  Perhaps not the best plan on our part.

The pub itself was small with a larger outside seating area.  Modern in look.  We ordered a taster sampler of their beer and a Margherita pizza because the menu indicated a brick oven fired to 700 degrees was used resulting in charring that added to the flavor.

The beer was uniformly good but two stood out -- their IPA and a cherry infused beer served in a wine glass.  The IPA was hearty and had the grapefruit aroma and flavor I've come to expect from a good IPA.  The cherry had a fruity cherry flavor, light carbonation and a pleasant sourness.  The pizza?  It was excellent!  Not what we had in New York City which is our standard measure but a very fine pizza with a wonderfully thin crunchy, tasty crust, a thin layer of tomato sauce, mozzarella strewn on top - not too much or too little.  The basil was fresh and put on at the very last.  That pizza totally disappeared!  Had we the time, we would have enjoyed exploring this quaint city by the river.  As it was, we trudged four blocks uphill, stomachs full, to our car.

Next stop, Mt. Hood.  Our chances of seeing this moutain top were pretty slim as it had been raining off and on all day with occasional bursts of sunlight.  The drive, however, took us through a fruitful, literally, valley.  We saw fields of cabbage, vineyards, and orchards of peach trees (bare of their harvest), and pear trees bending under the weight of fruit ready for picking. 

Unfortunately, the closer we came to Mt. Hood, the less we could see, the rainier it was and the colder.  At one point I did see patches of snow on a mountain not far from us.  On the mountain itself, we couldn't see anything.  The sky hung low and gray, the wind picked up, the air filled with moisture, and we were COLD!  The lodge was worth the visit though.  It exuded history and revealed the labor of men and boys down on their luck during the Depression.  That my dad was one such young man back then and stationed nearby in Klamath Falls made it all the more touching to me.

After Mt. Hood, we hightailed it for Astoria, the northern most city in Oregon on the coast.  The western side of Oregon is much different in terrain and look from what we saw in the Columbia Valley.  A kind of variation on a theme.  We managed to arrive in Astoria a little after 7:00 pm, check into our hotel and then head for a bit to eat, a questionable activity at that hour on Sunday.

We found a nice restaurant on Main Street, had potato soup and salad and went home to bed but not until after we had identified a breakfast place, The Blue Sorcerer, where I sit now writing.  We also saw enough of the city to know it has antique stores of interest, a theater that looks restored, an old hotel with a wonderful neon light.  All in all, with the ocean within calling distance, the river opening onto it like a multi-lane highway parallel to the road, the town presents as a river town for tourist and merchants alike.