The Oregon Coast, as advertised, is cold, overcast and pungent. I spent 4 hours in a car just so I could spend a handful of these last days of summer experiencing the clammy, autumn-like weather of middle-of-nowhere Waldport. The vacation rental was quaint, and despite it's title, 'Gingerbread House', was neither sweet nor edible. The rooms were small, the ceilings were low, and the space-saving pocket doors never closed correctly. From the windows you could see the endless rolling fog under which a beach supposedly existed.
The eternal mist offered scant visibility while on the shore itself. The sandy stretches offered seagulls, the shattered shell-bits and carapaces of their victims, hoards of sand fleas, driftwood, and most notably, sand.
The monotony was occasionally broken up by the crystal-clear muffin tops of beached jellyfish.
My allergies manifested asthma and so I popped some little pink pills to help convince my lungs to take in oxygen. The unfortunate drowsy side affect made it impossible to get up the next morning. I woke up with a sort of post-antihistamine hangover 15 minutes before we were about to head into town. One cold shower and no breakfast later and I was back in the car. We landed in the historic district of somewhere, ate at one of the town's sea-food related restaurants and then hit their equally non-descript beach. We dug some sand-holes while the tide came in and then stood in the calf-deep pockets while they filled up with 55 degree water. I couldn't feel anything in my feet except the screaming protests of my nerve endings. Afterwards I did a quick scan of the surrounding area. 'Historic District' is really just short-hand for 'dilapidated structures and over-priced gift shops'. The next morning, we shoved all our bags and trappings back into the vehicles and headed home. We stopped in a town called Florence for lunch and some good-old fashion dock fishing. Two poor, tiny fish were caught and released, but mostly, my brother and his friend just lost a lot of bait. We made one last stop before heading home. The Sea Lion Caves were by far the most exciting part of the whole trip. A big metal elevator takes you down into the rocky cliffs to a dark cavern where only a chain-link fence and a few feet separate you from the giant growling, barking and somewhat fragrant mammals. I spent most of the return trip passed out in the back seat. Its good to be home.
 Lady of Whimsy · Wed Aug 16, 2006 @ 06:32pm · 0 Comments |
