Our Wandering Ways

Our Oregon Coast Adventure continues. We ended our week at Winchester Bay RV Resort in Winchester Bay, OR by exploring the coastline from Coos Bay in the south to Heceta Beach in the North. We also made a semi-scenic drive to Eugene. On top of all that, our daughter had surgery back in Galveston and is home recuperating. (she is doing very well.) This made for an exhausting week. The coming week will be more relaxed. As always, please check my FB Page, where Marlene posts our day-to-day activities, to see a complete trip list. But here are some things that stand out from last week.

 

Our semi-scenic drive to Eugene took us along the Umpqua River. This river flows out of the Cascade Mountains and was a vital path for the Native Americans and the Russian, French, and English Mountain men who hunted in the area. Loggers used the river to bring logs out, while traders carried goods and people into the gold fields. As people began to settle the Willamette Valley, the river became an important highway for the lumber mills, fisheries, farms, and dairies to get their goods to San Francisco. The Umpua, named for a Native tribe that settled along its banks, is a slow-moving river carrying sand from the distant mountains. Sand bars builtup along the length of the rivers and at their mouth to the Pacific. This photo is of a bar called Brandy Bar. The first ship that tried to travel up the Umpqua ran aground on this bar. The crew had no choice but to wait until the tide from the Pacific would lift it free. With a long night ahead, they broke out the Brandy they had onboard (likely destined for a store upriver) and spent the night drinking. From that night on, the sailors would tell the story of being stranded on their maiden voyage, and Brandy became an essential part of the story. Thus, storytellers christened it the Brandy Bar.

 

These sandbars are among the greatest dangers of the Oregon Coast. When they form at the mouth of the rivers, they shift with the wind and waves, creating unpredictable conditions for shipping and fishing. Therefore, lighthouses dot the Oregon Coast, some of which sits at the mouth of the rivers, to warn approaching ships. (Others were built on the headlands of the rivers to warn sailors of the rocks and sea stacks scattered around through the immediate area.) This is a picture of the Umpqua River Lighthouse and Lifeboat Station outside Winchester Bay. This one is exceptional. I took this shot from the ocean side of the Lighthouse. The Pacific Ocean was ¼ mile behind me, making this Lighthouse nearly a ½ mile from the ocean. The guide told us that the water was at the base of the dune when it was built. But the jetties that were built to prevent the sand bars caused the sand to collect along the shore behind the jetties. This pushed the beach farther and farther from the lighthouse. Previously, the lifeboats would be rolled out directly into the water from a boat house next to the light. But now they would have to lug the lifeboat a half mile through soft, shifting sand to reach the water. The Pacific Ocean moved and left the Lighthouse high and dry. The Coast Guard transferred the lifeboat Station to Winchester Bay Harbor, but he Lighthouse still shines on an ocean that sits in the distance.

 

Coos Bay, a lumber port south of Winchester Bay, has a Maritime/Regional Museum that does an excellent job of telling the area's story. We found the usual stories of lumbermen, women, and children making homes out of logs and the meager resources at hand. It told of growing prosperity and the growth of the town. But then I came across this display. It is a child's baseball bat and ball with Japanese writing. The card in the exhibition noted that these washed up on the shore two years after the Tohoku Earthquake that knocked out the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in 2011. The ball and bat came onshore after another tsunami pushed it out of the Central Pacific. A child in Japan lost their favorite bat, and I could feel their disappointment. That happened on a distant shore and caused another on this isolated shoreline thousands of miles away. We are connected by the ground beneath our feet and the common humanity that we share with those in distant lands. This little display reminds me that there is no such thing as parochial, only global, and our world is very small.

 

One of the afternoons that stands out for us is our wandering along the coast just south of Winchester Bay. The headlands and beaches were impressive. But the place that offered the greatest joy was Simpson Reef at Cape Arago. The rocks of the Arago Headland are a favorite haul out for Sea lions, Harbor Seals, and Elephant Seals. The sea life gathered to sunbathe, scratch various body parts, turn over to warm their colder parts and bark at their neighbor when they got too close. But, as with any family that spends a day at the beach, the teenage Sea Lions played in the crashing surf, challenged one another, and barked insults at each other. (I guess they were insults, but my understanding of Sea Lion is limited.) I cranked out the telephoto lens and clicked away as the young Sea Lions played in the surf. They were part of a tapestry of life displayed on that glorious afternoon. We were privileged to be part of it for a short time. 

 

The next day we drove north along the coast and enjoyed exploring Thor's Well, the Spouting Horn, tidal pools, sea caves, and another lighthouse. However, this Lighthouse was a challenge. Unlike the Umpqua River Lighthouse, which could be seen from all sides, the Heceta Head Lighthouse could not be seen from any angle except for a viewpoint on the next headland. Instead, the only way to see it from the Heceta Headland was to walk up to it on a short ½ mile walk. I snapped this picture on the way up without thinking much about it. When we reached the top, I took several photos of the Lighthouse and the building around it. I remember thinking, that's nice, another lighthouse. When I went through my pictures that evening, this shot was the one that stood out. The way it framed the upward perspective tells a different story than a full frame shot of the Lighthouse itself. This photo tells the story of the hike up the hill through the surrounding forest. It speaks of shade and sun and the scent of wildflowers that filled the humid air. It gave me pause as I considered the long trek that the lightkeeper had to make to keep the light turning night and day, including rewinding the mechanism every 40 minutes. It shrouded the Lighthouse in the mystery of a time far removed from my present day. After I posted the shot on FB, one of my friends remarked on how the image was framed, and I saw that all our wanderings are a matter of framing and perspective. It reminds me that if I have trouble finding joy in a particular moment, perhaps I need to reframe and look for a new perspective. I suspect this will work more times than not!

 

We moved up the coast to our next stop at Premier RV Resort in Lincoln City, OR. I remember booking this site on the phone last year and asking for an ocean view. I was assured I had one of the best ocean views in the park. Of course, I was paying for the privilege. Well, here is a shot of the site and the ocean view. Look between Koko and the big tree. Above the top of the trees in the distance, you will see a tiny sliver of ocean. Framing and perspective came into play, and I had to laugh at myself. We are not in Southern Oregon any longer. The Central Coast is a different place where hype and marketing are part of the tourism culture. 

 

There was a simple honesty about life on the southern coast. They did not have as many tourists to impress and the folks who did show up did not need a lot of hype to get them to lay down their phones. It was a What-You-See-Is-What-You-Get place. WYSIWYG, for short. Tastes were more straightforward, and there was less marketing! The small town we were in was Langlois, where they advertised a World-Famous Hot Dog. We noticed the sign and bought a couple. But now that we have entered a more touristy part of the coast, that sign would not be noticed. It would blend into the background noise of a tourist of noise. We could see the ocean from our site. (As long as the fog had lifted.) But not all Ocean Views are equal. But my differing perspective on what constitutes an ocean view was not the Resort's fault. So, we settled in and enjoyed our pricy ocean view whenever we made our way around behind Koko.

 

We were tired after arriving in Lincoln City and needed a break. We took in the old downtown, all three blocks, and watched a Glass Blower at work making Glass Floats. We had just toured the local museum and seen a Glass Floats display. The museum pointed out that this display was a small part of their collection. We did see another three cases filled with them. I knew nothing about glass floats, so this piqued my curiosity. I sought out Google and discovered that they are an important part of the history and culture of the Central Oregon Coast. 

 

Glass Floats are not unlike the bobbers I used on my fishing pole as a kid. They started out as sticks or twigs tied to a fishing line that held the hook off the bottom and signaled when a fish had taken the bait. These bobbers, or floats, have been around for thousands of years. But in the middle of the 19th Century, the Japanese started recycling their old sake bottles and blowing glass balls to use as floats for their fishing fleets. They were cheap and easily replaced when lost or broken. They have fallen out of use in the last 75 years, but they still carry the romance of the sea for the people of the Central Oregon Coast. However, since Japanese fishermen no longer use them, very few wash ashore. So, the city's glass blowers make and place thousands of them on the local beaches throughout the summer. The city encourages people to pick them up and take them home as a memento of their visit. (I told you they are good at marketing!) But, adding to the mystique, a few are still washing in from the Pacific after having spent many years circling in the currents. These are treasured, collected, and put in the museum. They tell the story of a way of life slowly slipping away. They speak of the unique place this area holds in the world. A place of self-reliant fishermen making the most of what they have, pulling a living out of the sea. They speak of hard-learned skills and global neighbors who share more than an ocean. The globes are part of the romance of a way of life that is quickly fading. I will never look at a glass float the same!

 

Before closing, I have a few thoughts to share on our trip planning for 2024. Most of you know that we plan our trips well in advance. RV sites are hard to find in the short term, and good RV Sites are nearly impossible. However, our experiences on this trip have underscored the importance of not planning the joy out of a trip. We plan just enough to secure a place to stay and a route to get there. But I am consciously limiting the amount of research I do for a particular location. I prefer to make decisions with just enough information that allows us to wander without creating self-defeating expectations! I decide where and how long to stay based on a quick look at the things to do and sights to see in an area. More planning builds expectations that are easily thwarted by weather, construction, and a hundred other factors beyond my ability to anticipate. By minimal planning, I allow space to frame and reframe our experiences on the road. I allow room to creatively change perspectives that kindle, sustain, and rekindle our joy rather than depending on extensive, overdone planning. Your mileage will vary in how much you prefer to plan, but for now, our full-time life gives us the luxury of planning a little and wandering as much as our hearts and budget can take.

 

Our next stop will be at Kampers West RV Park in Warrenton, OR, just across the Columbia River from Washington. But first, we have several more days here in Lincoln City to wander and explore. Glad you are along for the ride.

 

Bob