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!

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??

After we visited the Sea Lion Caves earlier in the week, we stopped at a roadside pull off so we could take some shots of the Heceta Lighthouse. 

As soon as we got out of the truck we could hear them!

The noise was cacophonous!

Hundreds, possibly thousands, of Stellar Sea Lions were lying on the beach, jostling for position, front flippers flapping, whiskers twitching, lots of territorial teeth baring, snarky barking, honking, snorting, posturing, nudging for comfort and simply flobbing their bellies down on the sand to relax and bask in the late Autumn sunshine.

Many others were splashing about in the bay, surfing the waves, playing games and just joyfully mucking about in the water as if they were teens on Spring Break.   

It certainly made up for not being able to see the sea lions in the massive sea cave.

We stopped and watched for a good hour or so.

​It felt like such a privilege to observe these beautiful marine mammals in their natural habitat.

I've said it before and no doubt I'll say it again, we love these unexpected animal encounters.

​On yet another drizzly day, we stepped in to a world that was created over 25 million years ago to get a first hand feel of the persistence of nature, the power of the pounding ocean and the timeless joy of flubbery marine mammals.

We visited the Sea Lion Caves located just outside Florence.

As soon as we entered we were informed there were no Stellar Sea Lions in da house. We were neither disappointed nor deterred. Instead we were excited to descend into America's largest sea caves. Carved out of basalt rock the caves were advertised as twelve stories tall and as wide as an American football field. 

We walked out into the light drizzle and took some photos outside before taking the lift down into the subterranean caves. The ride in the lift seemed to last forever because we managed to discuss all the emergency scenarios, Henry had a jump around to test the cables, I giggled at the memory of Peter Sellers and farts in lifts, and we also compared the ride to the lift going in the opposite direction in the Empire State Building in New York. Yes, it was a long ride down!

The small caves we first entered were dimly lit with red and green lights and there was a screened viewing platform where you could observe the sea lions in the massive amphitheater of the main cave. We confirmed there was not a single sea lion to be seen but we enjoyed watching the waves roll in, crashing over the rocks, so we could get a glimpse of how the caves were formed over the millennia. The main cave lived up to the hype. It was enormous and echoey and had many caves and tunnels leading off the main chamber. We did see a few bats fluttering about at the top of the cave and we could see why it was such a favorable environment for the colony of sea lions that call the cave "home." It was clearly a sanctuary for seals, seabirds and a diverse array of other shore creatures too. 

I loved that care had been taken to preserve the sanctity of the cave so that us humans could not disturb the precious habitat. We could observe but we could not enter.

To the north you could walk up a staircase for another view of the coastline where we could see other inlets and coves leading round to the Heceta Lighthouse winking at us in the drizzly distance.

We loved every minute of this roadside tourist attraction.

The next stop on our Grand Adventure took us to the Heceta Beach RV park in Florence, Oregon.

The first few days after we arrived were wet and windy and so we had an enjoyable time hunkered down in the trailer with Kim working the stock market, Henry catching up with his gaming friends online and I settled down to read my beloved Kindle. I am reading Eleanor Elephant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. I am also making my way through the futuristic "In Death" murder mysteries by JD Robb. Lovely to just snuggle down with a cuppa tea and a warm blanket and just read. It's November and we are heading towards winter. I can feel the change in temperature and pressure in the air. I've been noticing the trees losing their leaves and the last of the summer blooms falling by the wayside. It is such a lovely change from the desert and I love settling in to each new season.

On the very next dry day, we headed in to town to explore the arty downtown area of Florence.

Lying at the mouth of the Siuslaw River, you enter Florence by passing beneath the expansive concrete double rainbows and ornamental art deco pillars of the Siuslaw River Bridge making a stunning backdrop for the downtown area with expansive views of the river and the bridge. The bridge is an iconic symbol of the city. Designed by Conde McCullough, opened in 1936, the key feature of the bridge is the double leaf bascule in the middle that lifts to allow clearance for fishing boat traffic. Along the banks of the tidal river, snowy plovers, a variety of sandpipers, blue herons, white egrets, cormorants, gulls, songbirds and other birds I couldn't quite identify, provided wonderful entertainment with their stooping, whooping and swooping. A lady in the crystal store told us she had even seen a couple of orcas chasing seals down the river and into the harbor last summer.

In the harbor we could see the halibut boats and signs for fresh local crab. We could hear sea lions barking somewhere in the distance. The tang of salt in the air made you lick your lips and yearn for a bag of chips wrapped in butcher paper with lashings of salt and vin, just like we would get on the seafront back home in England.. 

We spent a leisurely hour or two walking the main street, popping in and out of the shops that seemed to lean towards local crafts and art work, chatting with the friendly locals and enjoying the ambience of the riverfront. 

The sky turned a grisly grey and we felt the first spots of rain that quickly turned into a downpour. While Henry and I huddled under the awning of a nearby gallery, Kim dashed back to pick up the truck to collect us. We headed back to the trailer for an early dinner of Kim's special homemade chicken curry. Delicious!!!

Best. Curry. Ever.

​❤️❤️❤️

This morning a gang of elk came sniffing around our trailer at Honey Bear By The Sea.

We love these unexpected animal encounters!

Kim and I headed north on the US101 Highway all the way up to the outskirts of Coos Bay, in central Oregon, through a small town called Charleston in our efforts to see all the lighthouses in Oregon.

​This particular one was remote, difficult to find due to the mist, and was in a very private location. Despite our best efforts, we just could not find a public viewpoint for the Cape Arago Lighthouse.

This was our best shot of the day. It is not the lighthouse, just a view from Sunset Bay Beach. Grr!

Kim and I continued with our quest to seek out and find all eleven lighthouses in Oregon with a day trip out to Bandon, between Gold Beach and Coos Bay on the Oregon coast. This time we set out to find the Coquille River Lighthouse.

We found Bandon to be delightfully charming with plenty of cool cafes, galleries and mom and pop gift shops. It is perhaps most famous for its Circles in the Sand annual event, now in its tenth year, where groups of artists create mesmerizing labyrinths and other elaborate designs in the sand on a mission to spread love, joy and kindness.  Unfortunately our visit didn't coincide with the event but we saw the lovely wet, sandy beaches, perfect for this style of artwork.

We stopped in the old town for an early lunch in a beautiful old building that housed a co-op of local artists. We sipped our specialty coffees and we each had a lovely bagel with cream cheese, lox, capers, dill and lotsa freshly squeezed lemon on top. Delish! We then mooched around the artists stalls, enjoying the diverse artistic styles and media. I enjoyed the sculptures made out of reclaimed plastic and other debris found in the ocean. I especially loved the crested puffin that reminded me of the macaroni penguin. I have a bit of a thing for penguins and puffins as they are loyal, eccentric and comical, a bit like me.

After lunch we walked around the old town marina where we saw an array of colorful boats bobbing on the river, saw the skeletal wooden legs of bygone docks, listened to the barking seals and screaming gulls, did a bit of window shopping, and generally mooched around town.

We then returned to the truck to get the most advantageous view of the Coquille River Lighthouse. Built in 1896, the purpose of the lighthouse was to light the entry way into the Coquille River and to provide safe passage for local fishing vessels through the perilous sandbars. As well as the lighthouse, a fog horn was also built at the site to help guide boats through to safety when it became too foggy even to see the light. It was first lit on February 29, 1896 and it was the last official lighthouse to be constructed on the Oregon Coast. The lighthouse was fully functioning until 1939 when it was decommissioned and an automated beacon was installed on the south jetty to take its place. 

From our viewpoint across the Coquille River, we found it to be a quaint little lighthouse with a bright red base, whitewashed walls and dark top, only 47 feet tall, built adjacent to a squat octagonal keeper's house and boathouse. Through the rising mists it looked beautiful.

After taking numerous shots of the lighthouse we explored the southern end of town through Kronenberg County Park and onto Face Rock State Scenic Viewpoint. By the time we got there, the mist had descended and was swirling around the rocks making a spooky scene worthy of the witches of Macbeth. The words "something wicked this way comes" turned over in my mind. The black rocks below resembled witches hats and the churning ocean became some kind of  powerful potion. Once again we had stumbled upon nature's magic. I was mesmerized and let the mist swallow me as the wind whipped my hair and took my breath. Fabulous!

Sisters do indeed rock!

I am fortunate to have two wonderful sisters, an older sister, Louise, and a younger sister, Caroline. I am piggy in the middle. We are very close and I love them dearly so I am always drawn to locations that celebrate sisters, particularly three sisters.

The first occasion where Louise, Caroline and myself found ourselves in front of a rock formation called The Three Sisters was in the Blue Mountains, just outside Sydney, Australia. This is a very hazy photo of that moment taken in 1977.

So I was delighted to happen across Sisters Rock State Park in Oregon just north of Gold Beach and our campsite at Honey Bear By The Sea, where we stopped for some quick pics of three rocks sitting out in the Pacific Ocean, called the Three Sisters.

​I took a happy moment to send love to my sweet sisters and all my family back in England. Lovely xxx