oregon - north coast road trip

I arrived in Portland with neither delay nor fanfare. I think I caught KT off-guard when I found her in the terminal—she had to look twice from her guidebook before she realized who was walking toward her.

“Yay!” we both exclaimed and went off in search of dinner for me. Then we climbed into KT’s car, Bosco and headed into the sunset, beginning a two-hour drive to a campground on the beach. Thrice crossing the Columbia River, we arrived at the campground in Washington state.

“Are we going to have to pitch a tent in the dark?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise! You’ll see.”


We pulled up to Yurt 83, an interesting collection of canvas, linoleum, and wooden furniture. I’d never slept in a yurt before, but Luna’s owner Christy once lived in one and I remember being fascinated by the odd mix of integrity, transience, and unlikely sturdiness that made up that tent. Walls and a ceiling of heavy canvas are stretched over a wicker frame, which in both cases resembled an old-fashioned baby-gate. The floors were both made of sturdy wooden planks, and in 83’s case, covered in vinyl flooring. Christy’s had actual windows of glass and wood frames, and 83 had a steel storm door. Ours was simply furnished with a bunk-bed, futon, and night-stand. As I recall, Christy’s held a sink and woodstove in addition to her sleeping and dining furniture. I guess what struck me as so incongruous is that yurts I’d seen were designed to be easily disassembled and portable, while the lives of those inside are not necessarily either of those.

After unpacking Bosco, we took a walk to the beach in the dark. This was my second time only to the Pacific and KT gave me advice on being watchful. This tricky ocean can change quickly and often sends “sneaker waves” that rise onto the dry beach and overwhelm unwary beachcombers. “Never turn your back on the Pacific.”

The next day, we had a five-hour drive down the coast to Reedsport, KT’s hometown. We hoped to take the trip in segments, stopping at key points between legs on the coastal highway. Astoria, Fort Clatsop, Seaside, and Newport were places we hoped to see. Anticipating a long day, we hit the road. Apparently, we didn’t know how long a day to expect. Each stop lasted longer than we expected, and each time we embarked with the intention of making real distance, only to stop twenty minutes or so down the road. There’s a lot to see in Oregon!


At our first stop, we climbed the Astoria Column, a tower of 167 steps. The outside is a winding frieze depicting the town’s history. From the top, we could look over the great bridge that spans the 4-mile mouth of the Columbia River. We also caught a glimpse of the small seaside town.

At Fort Clatsop, we saw the second replica (the first was destroyed by fire) of the camp established on the Columbia River by the Lewis and Clark expedition. We took a tour of the wooden fort, seeing the simple bunkers and captain’s quarters on either side of the tiny fortification. We also made a self-guided study of the expedition, beaver fur trade, and native whaling practices.


Our final stop was Seaside to see the haystack rocks—monoliths of granite rising out of the surf. Our conversation turned to the value and meaning of community as we walked along the beach. It seemed like an apt thing to discuss as we wandered in view of giant condos that were threatening the town’s charm and social structure.

The sun was setting over the haystack rocks as we climbed back into Bosco—we still had hours ahead of us. A while after darkness had overtaken us, we stopped at one of the many outlooks along 101 and watched the Haceta Head Light flash over the ocean. It was a clear night for stargazing and a chilly wind blew off the water.

We finally made it to Reedsport, both of us ready to drop where we stood. I was lucky—I could nap as a passenger. Sleep came quickly and easily, with the next day a new promise of activity and adventure.