Onwards Through Oregon

We'd done Portland, the Historic Columbia River Highway, mountains and waterfalls. Time restrictions had left us unable to go inland to Hells Canyon, so only the Oregon coastline remained. Most of our travel in the Pacific Northwest had been on Highway 101, and we greeted it again like an old friend. It runs along most of the west coast of America but we only planned to take it as far as the start of Highway 1 in California, for as it goes south it becomes a busy commuter router. In Oregon, however, it hugs much of the coastline. And the coastline is worth hugging.

Our first stop was Lincoln City, a small coastal town which, back in 2000, developed one of the most innovative ways I've ever heard of to mark the new millennium. Seven miles of beaches make Lincoln City a popular place for beachcombers, especially during winter, after storms and very high tides. The prize finds have always been colourful Japanese blown-glass fishing floats, which have made their way across the Pacific. These are becoming increasingly rare as they're no longer used, even in Japan. So, Lincoln City decided that it would randomly scatter 2000 replica floats, hand-blown by local artists, along the beaches over the winter months. A few everyday (weather permitting), at different times and in different locations. The Float Festival has now become a tradition, with one extra float being added to the total each year. We scoured the beach but, alas, if there were floats around at the time they eluded us. We did, however, find a couple of harbour seals playing in the shallows.

We sat and watched them for a while - they were surfing the waves where a small river hit the water. Lincoln City also has an epic skate park. Really, Daniel looked like a kid in a candy store. This thing was so gnarly I was worried he was going to break an arm just by looking at it (or climbing all over it despite it being wet and thus slippery).

Luckily his limbs are all still intact, but he's talking about taking up skating again... We'd been planning to stay in a treehouse at a place called Treesort (no kidding), but we soon worked out we weren't going to make it before sunset - there was simply too much to see and do along the way. There was also a burning truck blocking the road - apparently American cars don't only catch fire in the movies.

We got a pretty good view and some awesome footage - should have sold it to a local news station. Slightly sad that we weren't going to be sleeping in a treehouse, we pulled up stumps at a place called Gold Beach, just north of the California border.

Highways and High Ways

Leaving Portland was easier than finding our way in. Getting from Portland to the Historic Columbia River Highway was then not supposed to be a problem. "It's easy," Daniel tells me. "We just take Exit 17 into Troutdale and follow the signs to the Highway." We take the said exit and he then proceeds to drive past all the said signs, in the wrong direction, even though I'm pointing them all out.

The Highway itself was extraordinary - it's an old road which winds alongside the river and takes you past multiple waterfalls. I was a bit waterfall-ed out by this point, to be honest, but these were pretty good. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, every other person in the area thought they were good. The best was the two-tiered Multnomah Falls, which has a total height of 189 meters. You can imagine the power with which the water falls, but the streams below are so still and clear that you can see the salmon just hanging out.

Multnomah Falls (upper tier)

Salmon

We took a detour off the Highway to visit Sherrard Viewpoint, from which you could supposedly see five mountains. Of course, we didn't consider that the lookout itself was probably in the mountains (Larch Mountain, to be exact). We may or may not have ignored the snow and ice signs on the way up, but with about four miles to go more and more white stuff began appearing around the road...

Snow...

Snowy...

Snowier...

Snowmageddon...

As the road became whiter so did our knuckles. In hindsight we probably shouldn't have been up there, but oh my god are we glad we were. It was a small hike from the car park to the viewpoint, and we were slipping all over the place in the ice and snow. We passed two people coming back down as well as a hiker who left as we arrived. Then it was just us and the trees, on top of the world.

Top of the world, or at least the 4056 feet below it...

As far as the eye could see...

Nothing moved other than the odd branch shaking off a snowy burden and readjusting itself. The resulting rustle was the only sound. When still and quiet the atmosphere was so palpable it was as if you could hear the mist, smell the snow and view the silence. We could see Mounts St. Helens, Rainier and Adams. Unfortunately, Jefferson and Hood, in the other direction, were obscured by cloud. We finished our travels for the day by driving the Mount Hood scenic route, but the cloud never lifted and we didn't actually see the mountain. Another time.

Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten #2: Paseo

Paseo is a Seattle institution. Daniel apparently came across this little Carribean eatery on the internet and wouldn't have looked twice (ok, thrice) except for that it has more than 1500 reviews and a 4.5 star rating on Yelp. It's not in Seattle proper but a suburb called Fremont, which has a reputation as a sort of artist's enclave (much like Fremantle). It didn't look like we were going to get there (see previous posts about our mood in Seattle) as it was our last night, late, dark and raining. But, feeling adventurous (and hungry), we somehow managed to get on a bus that took us in the right direction but dropped us off ten blocks early. We walked up a dark, deserted hill in the rain and amazingly found this place. It was tiny and absolutely packed. We both ordered their most popular sandwich - the Cuban Roast. This concoction of marinated, slow-roasted, pulled pork shoulder with lettuce, caramelised onions and mayo was life changing, and I don't usually like this sort of stuff.

It was even better than it looks. By the time we'd finished it was 2100 and there were no buses in sight, so we walked back down the hill and in the direction of the Fremont Troll, which lives under the Aurora Bridge (it's a giant statue). Somehow, subconsciously, we decided it would be a good idea to walk across the 898 meter-long bridge, into the nothingness on the other side, to try and flag a taxi. No luck, but a bus arrived and took us pretty much straight back to our hostel. One delicious adventure.

A Drive-Through Rainforest

You would think, given the time of year and our location, we would have done some research into what happens to cars in sub-zero temperatures. Rather, we decided to be intrepid (intrepid, not stupid) travellers and learn by experience. And so when we awoke on our last morning in La Push to find our car covered in ice, we thought ourselves surely intelligent enough to deal with the weather (something which you'll note we've had plenty of success with thus far). After some serious scientific experimentation the only progress we'd made involved carving humourous yet appropriate song lyrics onto the side of the car.

Ice Ice Baby

It took us half an hour of idling the car, running the windscreen wipers and pouring slightly warmer water over the windscreen before finally feeling brave enough to run the window heaters – we’d been scared of shattering the glass – and leave the car park. Leaving the Olympic Peninsula was desperately sad for the both of us, and we hope to be back there before too many years. The sunrise as we drove out was nothing short of spectacular – the sky was blue, and the horizon held masses of fluffy white clouds. As the relatively warm waves broke on the sand they spawned an almighty mist, which rose and rose before drifting back out to the ocean, obscuring the Quileute needles in an other-worldly haze. Magnificent.

Five or six hours south, Portland, Oregon, awaited us, but we took a detour along the way. America is a country built around the automobile - drive-through coffee, Dunkin' Donuts, ATMs, and a rainforest. Specifically, the Quinault Rainforest, surrounding Lake Quinault. A couple of days earlier we'd gone out to Hoh rain forest, which was quite spectacular. But, we had to get out and walk. I mean, really. Apparently a lot of the locals prefer Quinault, because Americans don't like walking, and the loop around Lake Quinault allows you to drive through this particular rain forest.

Hoh Rainforest

Quinault Rainforest

The most incredible thing about both was the contrast between the lush green that covered every surface and the burnt orange fall leaves that were equally abundant. The wildlife was also easy to encounter - we haven't hit a deer yet, but it's not for a lack of trying. We also found a bald eagle, but it was eyeing us off with murderous intent, and so we didn't hang around too long.

Evil Eagle

We eventually made it to Portland, but not before doing a scenic loop of the inner-city freeways and bridges. Daniel insists that he simply liked one particular bridge enough that he wanted to drive over it not once, not twice, but three times. I've been letting him think I believe him.

La Push

After three luxurious nights in Sequim we headed round to the western coast of the Olympic peninsula, to a small community called La Push, on the Quileute Indian Reservation. It's a tiny community - only 370-odd people live on the Res according to Wikipedia - but it's home to big beaches, big forests and even bigger trees.

A Very Big Tree

The tree above, on which I am standing and in which Daniel is standing, is driftwood - it actually washed up on First Beach and has since been pushed further ashore by the tail-end of the Japanese Tsunami. The beaches are covered in trees of various shapes and sizes, which have washed up over the years and now sit together in a tangle at the high tide line. Some are byproducts of the logging industry that dominates the area and would have fallen off trucks or the like. Others, possibly including the behemoth above, would have simply fallen off the cliffs into the ocean, whether from the mainland or one of the many rugged islands that are dotted along the coastline.

Rialto Beach

Second beach

Second Beach

Sunset from our balcony

We stayed in a (brilliant) motel room at the Quileute Oceanside Resort and could actually see the giant tree on the beach from our balcony. Up close, it was covered in "Team Jacob" graffiti, because La Push, and First Beach itself, is where much of the Twilight series takes place. The Quileutes have embraced the phenomena with a sense of humour - at the entrance to the reservation there is a sign saying "Treaty Line - No Vampires Allowed Past This Point." However, they had a tourism industry well before Twilight and will continue to have one long after, simply because La Push is such a beautiful and magical place.

The same cannot be said for the nearest town, Forks, which is where most of the Twilight action takes place. It feels like a tough, no-nonsense little town, which makes the ‘Dazzled by Twilight’ shop and the Twilight tour buses seem even more out of place. I think it’s a fairly hard-up place – there’s at least two trailer parks and they’re truly dilapidated. There’s a nice small-town feel though, and the people seem friendly enough. In any case, the checkout girl at the grocery wanted to know what we were doing in America, and if we saw lots of Kangaroos back home.

The Teddy Bears Picnic

We went down to the woods today, and we sure got a big surprise.

Un-bear-ably beautiful (groan)

In truth, we went down to the drive-through Sequim Olympic Game Farm, and these incredible creatures were behind electrified fences. It was a complicated experience - the sense of amazed wonder at seeing them, especially up so close, competes with the acute awareness that we're not supposed to see them, let alone from only a few meters away. They're supposed to be rambling around the mountains and forests, hunting hikers, not voluntarily doing tricks for the bread tourists are allowed to throw to them. For, you see, many of the animals at the Farm are ex-entertainers.

 

The Kodiak bear above reminded me of my brother's childhood teddy bear and sauntered over when he saw us sitting in our car watching him. He was well aware we had bread and was, or so it seemed, performing small tricks in the hope of edible rewards. He would, for example, stand up on his hind legs or wave his hands in the air, one after the other. It actually broke my heart a little bit.

The native animals were certainly the standout, among them wolves, deer, elk and bison. For the most part, the animals were in large open encloses that we drove through - the predators were obviously kept separate - and they would rush the car windows, hoping for a share of bread.

The neighbourhood bison getting friendly with the car in front of us...

The neighbourhood bison getting friendly with us...

Baby Elk

Many of the Farm's tenants, however, were a long way from home; tigers, lions, zebras, and a herd of Tibetan yaks also call the farm home. 

A Tibetan Yak

One resident in particular was as far from home as us:

Emu

It was enough to make one just the tiniest bit homesick!

Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten #1: Voodoo Doughnuts

The inaugural edition of 'Things We Wish We'd Never Eaten' is dedicated to the Portland (Oregon) institution that is Voodoo Doughnut. I suspect this doughnuttery may, in fact, also be the only reason Daniel wanted so badly to visit Portland. He keeps mumbling something about an impressive bookstore, but I haven't seen one yet... So, onto business.

What goodness hides inside?

Froot Loops

Mini M&Ms

Daniel devouring a Maple Bacon

Ole' Dirty Bastard (Oreos, peanut butter etc)

The Voodoo (filled with jam)

So far I've had one bite of each and I'm not sure if I'll ever want to eat another doughnut. At the very least, there's something to be said for the delicious simplicity of an original glaze. Daniel, on the other hand, took to them with a different level of enthusiasm and now seems quite content.

Daniel post-VD

Til next time.