August 3rd Portland to Cannon Beach

The life of a blogger is not easy!  There is a responsibility, a pact, may I say a basic trust between the writer(s) and whoever is reading this, (hellooooo, is anybody out there?).  We must publish or face the ridicule and scorn of our fans.  So back to my original premise, life has it's moments and this morning was one of them.  The plan, up by 6:00, shower, shave, s....., (well, you know) then breakfast, write about the past 3 days and out the door to the coast by 9:00.  The reality, up at 8:45, stumble around wondering where I left my mind, the 3 S's, wondering why I didn't pack clean undies, stumbling down to breakfast and demanding an intravenous transfusion of coffee or anything related to caffeine, oh wonderful caffeine.  Packing and looking for a missing sock and then writing the blog and being quick about it, reality.....leaving at 12:20 and having the staff give me the stink eye because we were supposed to be out by 11:00. Lighten up Ramada staff.

Down the Sunset Highway.  I feel a bit, maybe a bite, of sadness over past people and times but I am allowed to share my feelings, find my center and move back to living in the moment.  Lots of fruit stands down the highway and we stop, but Virginia, this is not N. Dakota and cherry's have gone from $2.00 a pound to a pint for $4.00, we leave sans cherry.

Arriving at the coast, we stop at Ecola State park, just North of Cannon Beach. We find a picnic table with a commanding view of Haystack rock and K builds our turkey sandwiches.  We munch and take some joy in the memories of this journey and our ability to cross this country from coast to coast, some 7000 + miles.  We walk around the park enjoying V squared - views and vistas and then head on to Cannon Beach.

Haystack and her minions from the park

Happy lunch, happy lunch!!

C.B. (not her) is a busy crowded place set to take the unsuspecting travelers money......hey, there are some similarities.  We park and walk a mile down the beach to get a good picture of the Haystack - a monolithic rock, surrounded by a few small piles of hay out just beyond the surf.  K walks out in the surf and raises her arms in victory - mission accomplished, we have achieved yang to our yin, we are balanced, we are full of it - we just wanted to go to the ocean.  Thousands of seabirds call it home and I wish I  had a nickel for every tourist that ever took a picture of it. (Yes Shelley, I know your picture won a contest but I am talking about the rest.)  On the beach there are sights of beauty and some that burned my retina's - please dear God, make it stop.  No 400 pound woman should wear a bikini top/speedo bottom, no time, never, but here the rules of propriety seem to be ignored.

We're hereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

My special place, even if I have to share

You can take the girl from her flowers but you can't take the flowers from the girl

It is now 4:50 and we are heading back the mile plus to retrieve our camper and find a campsite, set up and make dinner - the plan.  Reality - I am beat, exhausted, pureed, spent, done and any other adjective I know but am now too tired to think of.  I see a "Vacancy" sign, turn to K and am ready to get on my knee's and plead, beg or promise my life when she nods and says, "Change of plans!

Haystack Lodgings, #3 is all we could hope for.  After registering, trekking back to the truck with only a brief pullover for a hot fudge sundae, (hey, I needed some calories), we get the truck, drag our packs in and here we sit out on our porch, looking out on a garden full of flowers, fountain singing a song, K sipping on some Jack on the rocks and reading "Sizzling Sixteen", (a professional journal I'm sure) while I sit and share a few memories and laughs.  We have found haven amidst the crazies.

Home at Cannon Beach

Our view

K checking my grammar and editing amidst the garden

We saddle up and decide dinner is next on our menu.  Two people have recommended "Bills", about 4 blocks away.  Our requirements are an establishment where the locals go to eat and the tourists would ignore.  Bills fits the bill.  An unassuming older building with a small sign out front.  Walking in, I am struck by the wonderful music being played.  Bill's has X - M radio tuned to the Bluegrass station.  Our dinner is serenaded by banjo's and mandolin's with tight, warm harmonies.  The walls are covered by memento's from the past but with a touch of humor, ie. "Save the Ales", "Beer is free tomorrow", Hippies must enter from the side door" etc.  The waiter Jim...fast but competent, the smell...warm but inviting, the cost...reasonable but underpriced, the food....no buts - it was just plain amazing.  We had the seafood stew that was filled with scallops, shrimp, prawns, halibut in a spicy broth that lit up my mouth and made me wish that my bowl was bigger.  Dinner was a hit.

We walked back to the hotel enjoying the balmy weather, talking of nothing and everything.  I turn to K and as I am want to do on a daily basis to thank her again for such a wonderful day.