At the Newport Cafe just off Highway 101 in Newport, Oregon, we opted to try the Super Ultimate Monster Burger. Guy Fieri would have loved it!

The Monster was a homemade burger made with 8 pounds of ground beef seasoned with spices, topped with cheese, lettuce, tomato, onions and pickles, ham and 8 fried eggs in a huge homemade 10 inch burger bun topped with sesame seeds and spread with a special thousand island dressing. 

At $55 dollars it could feed us all!

We sat outside the cafe on a bright yellow picnic bench, traffic whizzing by on the highway, and tucked into our Monster Burger. Giggling at the absurdity, we sliced it like a giant cake and ate and ate and ate. Then we ate some more. Then we realized we weren't even half way through the burger. We gave it a good shot, but we knew we would have to leave some behind.

This whole adventure had us roaring with laughter. Henry thought it was Instagram worthy so we took loads of photos.

My poor tummy will take a long time to recover!!!

On the way back from Depoe Bay, we took a back road to Cape Foulweather. I just love that name. It sounds like a Rik Mayall superhero, right?

The towering basalt cliff jutting out into the Pacific Ocean was actually named by Captain James Cook on his third voyage around the world. He discovered it on March 7, 1778. The weather was particularly vile that day with winds of over 100mph, which are not uncommon in the area.

Captain Cook's March 7, 1778 journal reads:-

A northeast facing promontory with a small visitor center at the top called The Lookout, was a perfect place to whale watch. Using their binoculars and looking out of the huge windows at the back of the building, with a view to die for, we finally got to see some gray whales on their migratory journey. Spectacular!

On our way back from Yaquina Head Lighthouse the day before, we spied a wide expanse of sandy beach. We could even spot a few dog walkers. We decided we would return to give Ollie a good run.

We discovered it was called Agate Beach, an Oregon State Recreation Site. On the drive to the beach, dark clouds quickly rolled in from the Pacific turning the sky black and we thought we would have to abandon our plans for a walk. The wind picked up but the rain held off. By the time we had parked, we virtually had the beach to ourselves. We could see a couple of razor clam diggers in the far distance, out towards the lighthouse, and a couple of dog walkers.

As soon as we got onto the beach over a short little wooden bridge, we let Ollie off the leash and she galloped off, enjoying the sand between her paws and the wind whipping her ears making them dance. All bundled up in woolly hats, fleeces and waterproof coats, we set off to catch up with her.

We spent an exhilarating couple of hours on the beach. I was looking for agates, jaspers and carnelians, but it was just miles and miles of sand and we chose not to walk too close to the shoreline as the waves were crashing in. We didn't want to risk Ollie frolicking in to the waves to the point of it becoming a danger. She was relaxed on the sand, enjoying the off-leash run.

It was chilly to begin with but as the dark clouds rolled away the sun came out to say hello, we warmed up . We walked for miles, almost all the way back into Newport.

Memorable fun day.

We finally got snow in Oregon!

For me it was dreamy, Narnia, fairy tale snow. I could watch it fall from the sky and shake off from the surrounding pine trees for hours on end. It was magical. When the sun came out the snow literally twinkled! I made snow angels, caught flakes on my tongue and made a snowman. So much fun!

For Kim the snow presented new challenges in the trailer. With nightly temperatures dipping to -22 degrees we upgraded to an insulated and electrically warmed water hose, we kept the heating on 24/7, particularly ensuring the underbelly of the trailer stayed warm and dry as the snow began to drift and pile up around and under the trailer. Kim went out every morning to clear the steps and a pathway to the car. Gas bottles needed to be filled daily. Daily inspections for leaks from potential pipes freezing and cracking were carried out. Any snow that built up on the roof or the slide outs had to be cleared so the weight didn't cause any damage. 

For Henry it meant lots of snowy walks with Ollie. To see them both playing in the snow was heart melting. Ollie loved the snow and enjoyed playing off the leash in the little dog park on site. Henry began to train Ollie with some simple commands like sit, spin, shake hands. Treats and poo bags were in his pockets at all times. Days in the powdery snow with family and a beloved puppy bounding about with pure joy is a winter gift I will remember forever.

​So much love!

Our first Christmas in the trailer!

​After a trip into Sisters to see what decorations I could acquire at the thrift store and the dollar store, I found these amazing Christmas Nutcrackers, some fairy lights, candles, a tiny but real Christmas tree and other Christmassy bits and bobs. All for under twenty bucks! Win! I dried out slices of orange for festive tree decorations.

Christmas lunch was very traditional. Prawn cocktail followed by roast turkey and all the trimmings followed by Christmas pud, mince pies and ice cream. Considering we only had a small convection oven and three burners on the stove, it was a triumph. We had our bottles of Mexican Coca Cola and some Asti for the table. With our Santa hats and fun Christmas jumpers, we pulled the crackers, shared the silly jokes and of course retold the joke from the Vicar of Dibley;

What do you do if you see a spaceman?
I don't know, know, know, know.
​Park in it, man.

We toasted absent family and friends, particularly our mums, and tucked in to our delicious Christmas dinner.

It was Ollie's first Christmas with us and she had some special treats and was very well behaved. What a gift she is! Best. Ever.

After a leisurely Thanksgiving dinner of meat and potato pie and lashings of gravy, we were full up to the brim. Black Friday just passed us by. Can't buy anything. Nowhere to put it! Silver linings and all.

By Saturday morning, we were all ready for some fresh air. Sisters had a Thanksgiving Parade and Christmas Tree Lighting planned so I rallied the troops and we set off into town. We parked in front of the Sisters Saloon, home of the now famous Marionberry crumble, adjacent to the Sinclair Gas Station with the green dinosaur at the entrance wearing a Santa hat. The streets were crowded with people wrapped up in their winter woollies; thick coats, hats, colorful scarves and mittens, exhaling misty breath into the air. The temps had plummeted, it was icy on the roads, but it was a clear day with brilliant blue skies.

We got out of the truck, crossed the road, and on the corner of S Fir Street and E Cascade Avenue, an elderly gentlemen with a thick, grey beard and crinkly eyes had a red tagalong bike trailer full of his belongings and a litter of mewling puppies. Henry and I were eager to see them and have a cuddle. Well, as soon as the man unzipped the canvas, Henry popped his head in to take a look, and immediately locked eyes with a brown eyed puppy right at the back who seemed to be the calmest of the litter of five. I can tell you, it was love at first sight for both of them.

We were told the puppies were 10 weeks old and that they were labradoodles. Clearly the man was struggling and the puppies were a burden. They looked very underweight and more than a little unkempt. The man explained their Mom had given birth to them, unplanned, and he was looking to offload them at the parade. As soon as he saw the love in Henry's eyes, he decided a sale was in order.

We walked away. 

Kim and I explained how a labradoodle would grow too big for the trailer, would limit our travels and just wasn't in the family plan. Henry reminded me what we had talked about after our beloved Snowy passed away a couple of years back. If there was a stray puppy or a puppy needing a home, we would adopt them. We literally talked about finding a puppy on the side of the road that might just need a forever home. It's like Henry manifested the entire situation.

We hummed and hawed.

We watched the Thanksgiving Parade.

All that time Henry was begging us to reconsider. He knows his own mind. By the end of the parade we caved and returned to the corner where the grizzly man had been. He wasn't there. We then said to Henry, if you can find him, we will talk to him. Henry dashed off in search of the man and his pupper. He had been gone for ages and finally came back close to tears. I said we should have one last look and have a long walk up and down the crowded streets. Maybe it was meant to be this way.

About half way up the street, I spotted the man ambling down the street pulling his tagalong with his belongings and the puppies. Henry got very emotional. He picked up his brown eyed puppy. I saw love in Henry's eyes. So did the man. Suffice to say, money changed hands, and both parties got an unexpected Christmas gift.

This was our Gotcha Day. The day we got our darling, beloved, beautiful, bouncy, clever labradoodle. It was the day we got our Ollie.

​Best. Day. Ever.

 As we approached the end of our stay in Florence, the dense sea mist continued to rise and mingle with the grey drizzle, draping a big wet blanket over us. We were forced to acknowledge that we were in the midst of the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and of course the endless rain, making it a typical Autumn in Oregon. We embraced it. It made a happy change from the beating heat of the Arizona desert that we had endured for two decades and more.

The colors of Fall were all around us. The leaves fell from the skeletal branches of the trees surrounding us at the campsite, bright, burnt oranges, sunny yellows, mottled greens and chestnut browns carpeting the ground. If we were lucky enough to catch a leaf as it danced and helicoptered to the ground, we held it close to our hearts and made a wish. We could smell the campfires of our neighbors and it prompted us to make our own fire. . We stood with glazed eyes watching the blaze glow in the half light, listening to the spitting flames lick at the wet logs, watching our breath make its own morning mist with every deep sigh, sinking our hands into the pouches of our hoodies. We started thinking about soups and stews for dinner. Every season has its own treasures.

With Henry settled for the day sorting out his latest Pokemon cards that he had picked up at Fred Mayer, Kim and I set out to find Sweet Creek Falls, a famed local beauty spot, recommended to us by the locals in town.

We followed the twists and turns of the Siuslaw River, eerie in the mist. We spied a fairy tale Hansel and Gretel wooden cottage, smoke rising from a stone chimney, a wrap around porch with weathered adirondack chairs positioned for the best view of the river, and a little jetty with a gently bobbing boat, with oars at the ready, at the bottom of the garden. We spotted an elk or two raise their heads as we drove by, lazily watching us from the grassy banks of the river. There was hardly any traffic and we drove in silence enjoying the stillness of the day.

We made a sharp right turn and drove about ten miles or so following Sweet Creek to reach the signposted trailhead.

Well, words cannot adequately describe the quintessential Autumnal scene before us. The colors of the leaves carpeting the path, the waters of the creek with the swirling pools and gentle falls, the surrounding woodlands, dark and deep with promises to keep, was simply idyllic. 

I hope the photos convey the beauty of the scene. We really need Willy Wonka smell-o-vision so we can close our eyes and fully inhale the woodsy smells of the dripping, damp ferns, the tiny lichens and impossibly green mosses, fallen branches, leaves mulched into the muddy ground and the fresh scent of the sweet creek. A true sensory experience.

We walked a five mile round trip on leaf littered pathways, zig-zagging wooden bridges and slick river banks. It was heavenly!

​Breathe it in!

The awe-inspiring Oregon coastline continues to surprise.

Today we headed even further north, hitting central Oregon and Cape Perpetua. The cape was given its name by the British explorer, Captain James Cook, who first saw the headland in 1778 and named it after St. Perpetua the patron saint of peace, perfection and motherhood. 

Inland there were dense forests of impossibly tall Ponderosa Pines, Western Hemlocks and mature Douglas Firs. Low lying wizened Sitka Spruce, shaped and gnarled by high winds and salty sea spray, clung to the bluffs on the towering 800 foot headland jutting out into the Pacific.

The Cape Perpetua Scenic Area covers over 2500 acres of coastal habitat. We were particularly interested in checking out the marine reserve made up of reefs, rock pools, chasms, caves, beaches and unusual rock formations.

To begin, we headed toward's the parking lot at The Devil's Churn. There was a great viewing platform to the north of the lot. We had timed it to perfection as the waves were relentlessly rolling into the deep, narrow chasm below, creating a dramatic churning effect in the water. The swelling waves took on the form of a whipped vanilla milkshake, all milky and frothy, as they surged up the channel, crashing chaotically against the sides of the steep rocks in all directions. The chasm probably started out as a narrow fissure in the volcanic basalt bedrock, or perhaps a collapsed lava tube, and then the violent power of the ocean, terrifying and majestic, pounded its way through, creating a crack in the rocks that could lead down to the Devil himself. We could clearly see how The Devil's Churn got its name. 

We then made our way on the trail down to the lower ledges to get a closer look where we could not only see the strength of the battering ocean against the rocks, but taste the salt in the spray, hear the rolling roar of the waves, and feel the curling swirls of air displaced by the churning water. It was dark down there and a little scary being that close to the untamed power of nature.

We continued round the edge of the opening of the chasm where it met the Pacific and suddenly there were calmer waters and huge rock pools to explore. We found large green sea anemones, ochre starfish, urchins and sea slugs. It was astonishing how the raging chasm was adjacent to the peaceful pools.

Kim stayed to watch the churn a little longer and Henry and I continued to play in the pools. Henry was keeping a beady eye on me and any potential sneaker waves after the Ophir Beach fiasco. He was being very careful and very protective. Very sweet.

Eventually Henry headed off to find Kim and we all lost track of each other. We eventually met up by the truck and headed into Yachats, smack dab in the middle of the Cape.

Yachats was a charming gem of a town. The name Yachats, pronounced Yah-hots, comes from the local native Siletz language and means "dark water at the foot of the mountain." Apt! We parked just past the cove, by a huge whale tail sculpture, on the side of the road. 

We took a leisurely walk through town in the sunshine, stopping at the Little Log Church built in the 1920's. It was undergoing some renovations and the museum was closed so we kept walking, mooching around the shops, enjoying all the sculptures of multicolored sea lions on every block corner. There was fantastic rock, crystal and gem store that took a lot longer to explore. Eventually it was time for lunch and we ate at a lovely family owned diner. 

After lunch we spent time at Thor's Well, Cook's Chasm and The Spouting Horn. Back on the rugged, rocky shoreline, the ocean was throwing up huge waves of spray as it hit the rocks and pools. There were many gullies and chasms slicing through the rocks where the ocean boomed into underwater caves. It was a wild and dramatic landscape. Literally breathtaking.

We spotted Thor's Well, a sinkhole-like feature where the ocean surged beneath the rocks and found its way up and out of a bottomless bowl in the rocks. Every surge and spatter of the rhythmic ocean making its way over and under was spectacular. I practiced taking photos on my iPhone using long exposure to create a flowy effect. I love playing with photos like this.

Nearby was Cook's Chasm, named after the British explorer, another deep narrow gully, but much shorter and without the deep, gorge-like sides of Devil's Churn. The chasm flowed under the concrete arches of Cook's Chasm Bridge, allowing the trust US101 Highway to wind its way through the lower rocky ledges of the cape.

The huge waves rolling into Cook's Chasm carved underwater caves out of the basalt rocks. We could hear the water roaring and reverberating, pounding and crashing with echoing booms. A smallish hole in the rocks above the underwater caves created an outlet for the pressure below, creating a geyser-like fountain of sea spray, like a pressure cooker releasing steam. In my imagination it was a fire-breathing dragon snorting sleepy smoke out of its nostril while curled up in its subterranean cave. Like Smaug. It is known locally as The Spouting Horn.

We stayed for a long time and enjoyed being hammered by the forces of nature.

We began to lose light so we hiked back up to the truck and set off back to the Trailer.

What a phenomenal, memorable day!

I'm sneaking this in as I am pretty confident they're not reading my blog 😜

​Also, this is my milestone 100th blog post.

With Henry tucked up in the Trailer for a long lie in and a lazy day, Kim and I headed out for a leisurely beach walk at the Carl G. Washburn Memorial State Park, about ten miles north of Florence. 

Typical of a clear day after a solid week of rain, it was a beautiful crisp morning. Not a cloud in the sky. Sun shining so brightly we needed sunglasses from the glare on the white sand. The air was chilly, almost wintry, and there was a fair beach breeze coming in off the ocean. A few seagulls half heartedly called to each other as they headed towards the cliffs in the distance and we could see some sandpipers paddling close by on the shore.

Together we walked for miles, not another soul in sight.

Beachcombing.
Resting a while on beached driftwood.
Watching the waves roll in.
Drawing pictures in the sand.
Taking goofy photos.
Blowing the cobwebs away.
Solitude.
Together.

Bliss!






Afterthought: Is my woolly hat giving Blackadder Season 1 vibes??