Oregon State Parks – Page 3 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

September 10 to 12 Baker City to Wallowa Lake State Park

Currently in Rocky Point, Oregon, partly cloudy at 55 degrees F, predicted high of 64F

Don’t forget to click on the photos if you want a bigger version

Sometimes when we are traveling, our tendency is to go fairly long distances between locations. This time, however, we took our own sweet time getting from place to place, and then settled in to really enjoy the countryside. After the morning in Baker City, we thought it might be fun to wander off on some back roads instead of sticking to the Interstate. We could see the curvy road ambling northeast rising on the southern foothills of the Wallowa Mountains.

How bad could it be anyway?! Sure, the road was narrow, there were curves, but no real spooky drop-offs like the ones back in John Day Country, and we were rewarded with beautiful vistas of the Wallowas and the Eagle Cap Wilderness shining in the late summer sunlight.

It is amazing to me how many tiny little towns are scattered across this part of Oregon. Of course I knew of Baker City, La Grande, Pendleton, Joseph, and Enterprise. I do actually live in this state. But I had never heard of Cove, or Union, or Medical Springs, and as we continued our travels for the rest of the trip, many little towns appeared that were just blips on the map, and a blink of the eye.

People lived in these little towns, there were city halls, and fire departments, police stations, antique stores advertising “used antiques”. Hmmm. There were old barns, and beautiful ranches, and miles and miles of open space. It was lovely to wander through the countryside and imagine what it must be like to be born and raised in places like these, or to live there now. Did these people grow up here or did they somehow choose to come to a tiny town in the far reaches of Northeastern Oregon. Lots of fodder for the imagination as I rode along, for sure.

As you can see from the map, there is really no way to get to Joseph without skirting the amazing Wallowa Mountains. Home to the Eagle Cap Wilderness, these mountains are sometimes called the “Little Alps of Oregon” with good reason. Formed dominantly from granite from the Wallowa Batholith, the peaks are glaciated and dotted more than 50 apline glacial lakes. They reminded me a bit of the Sierras, only a bit more open like the Big Horns. The Wallowas are one of the premier backpacking destinations in Oregon, not nearly so well known as the Cascades with their volcanoes, but much more enticing to me.

The meandering route gave us just a taste of what was to come in the far corner of our home state. Somehow I was reminded a lot more of the Idaho I lived in for more than 30 years than the Oregon that is now my home. Everything felt so familiar, the forests even smelled different, familiar somehow. I recognized the plants, the geology, all of it was like coming home somehow.

Just like a lot of other folks, I thought, “I could easily live in this place”. The winters are long, the population of Wallowa County is a mere 7,500 or so, and shopping is far away in La Grande or Pendleton. But the towns are lovely, well cared for, the vistas are magnificent, the land open and spacious. Beautiful.

When we arrived at the Wallowa lake State Park in early afternoon, we were a day early for our reservation, but in spite of the crowded park, there was a site open for us until our space was ready the next day. We originally planned to stay longer in Baker City, but continuing to the lake and taking our chances for a spot was a good plan. When we first planned this trip, I didn’t think we would need reservations, but checking the State Park website was a good hunch, since we just barely snagged a spot for the four nights we wanted to stay.

Wallowa Lake is home to one of the best examples of glacial topography in the West, and images of the huge lateral moraines are used often in textbooks on geology and geomorphology. The lake is deep and blue and incredibly clear. Often the mountains still have a bit of snow in late summer, but none was left this year, a low snow year for the entire area. The lake was really quite low as well, surprising since it is a natural lake and not a reservoir, but I guess drought is drought, and lake levels will go down.

After settling into our one night spot, we took the Tracker for a visit to the Forest Service Information Center on the edge of the little town of Joseph. The woman at the desk was incredibly helpful, and there were a ton of brochures about the area. She suggested we try the Lostine Creek Scenic Route, maybe hike up Hurricane Creek, or go check out the Zumwalt Prairie to look for wildlife. All good ideas, but we settled on Lostine Creek, a deep glacially cut valley that climbed back into the Eagle Cap Wilderness.

We hoped for some close-up views of the mountains, but the creek is so deep in the canyon that it is hard to see much without actually doing some of the 12 mile hikes into the back country that boast elevation rises of 3 to 5 thousand feet. Maybe not today. Let’s go back to the campground and check out the local nature trail and let Abby swim in the lake.

It was good to be settled in and to know that we had at least one day of doing not much of anything. Mo had surprised me with the idea of a special birthday treat, and in a couple of days we were going to drive the Hells Canyon Scenic Byway to Hells Canyon Dam and a big adventure on the Snake River in the wild and scenic part of Hells Canyon.

After a great sleep, we took our time enjoying the campground, went to town to do some laundry and actually check in on the internet for a bit, and were back in camp in time to move to our more permanent site for the next few days. This is a very popular park, even in late September, and on this Wednesday morning as we tucked into a rather short space, I was again really glad I had made reservations the previous month before everything was completely gone.

As I picked up the new tag for the new site number, I overheard a very sad RV driver complaining to the park ranger in the kiosk, “I NEVER make reservations this time of year! What do you mean there is NOTHING?!” Blue lake, big mountains, cute town….a very popular place.

Finally in late afternoon we wet out on the lake in the kayaks to enjoy that gorgeous clear water. The mountains are so high that the sun disappears fairly quickly on the tucked away part of the lake, but it was still beautiful. There are lakeside homes all along the western shore, most of them very big and spendy looking, and only a few of them with folks hanging around on the decks and porches. Even so, the lake was reasonably quiet, and the kayak time was nice.

We never did see a lot of birds around. I suppose the shoreline is too rocky, the lake is too low, and the water too clear for bird food in any quantity. As lovely as the lake was, and even with that gorgeous clear water, I think I would rather meander around in an estuary somewhere that has a bit more complexity. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful kayak and it felt great to finally get our boats out on the water. We originally planned to try doing some kayaking on the John Day River, but the drought wasn’t about to let that happen. I hate it when we haul the boats for miles and miles and never get them on the water!

Mo had packed up a good amount of wood for the trip, so we had another huge campfire after supper and enjoyed all the activity of a very busy campground with kids on bikes, lots of dogs (well behave and leashed) and giving Jeremy a chance to play around outside unhindered. We even put up the chili pepper lights on the MoHo awning, something we haven’t done in a very long time. There are some more photos of the state park linked here

September 8 to 10 John Day to Baker City

Currently we are back In Rocky Point, Oregon. Cloudy and light rain, 43 degrees F

Sometimes I can just sit down at the computer, open up the photos of our travels, and all the memories come flooding back. It is easy to write and remember what we have seen and done. Other times I look at the photos, I remember, but writing about it just doesn’t quite come as easily. Makes me glad I made the effort to write about our days in John Day Fossil Beds while they were happening.

Our original plan this summer season was to stay home, to enjoy our own state, and we did just that. There are parts of Oregon that are very familiar to me. The corridor north and south along 97, the corridor along I-5, the road over 140 to Medford, the roads east to the desert. I have traveled along Highway 26 to Idaho in the past, but never had the time to really linger and explore. This month we took that time and it paid off with beautiful back roads, amazing vistas, and good memories.

Donna over at Travels in Therapy mentioned Clyde Holiday State Park, and we changed our original plans to overnight at the fairgrounds in John Day in favor of this lovely patch of green along the John Day River. I have been trying to read and catch up on blogs, and have been surprised at the number of people traveling in this area, often just a day or two apart from us. Funny how each of us sees something different, or writes about it differently, but many of the photos are similar.

It was a short respite in the two week trip where we actually had telephone and internet service, giving me time to catch up with phone calls and check on bank accounts. I was surprised at how the internet, email, telephone messages, all seemed so necessary and yet so intrusive. I love being connected, but it definitely can be stressful sometimes. Almost as stressful as not being connected. Still it was wonderful to hear my daughter’s (plural daughters) voice and to get missed phone messages from my son and other friends.

Clyde Holiday State Park is right along the highway, just a few miles west of John Day. It is a bit like camping in a large city park, with grass and a nice river walkway, and a place to build a campfire.

There are teepees for rent that were locked up, but looked as though they would be quite cozy. It was a busy park, and without a reservation, we were glad to arrive around 2 in the afternoon after traveling south from Fossil. We got a nice back-in spot, and settled in for the evening after driving in to the town of John Day. We were in the midst of the Cycle Oregon event, with hundreds of cyclists camped for the night in the fairgrounds. It was definitely a place where the bicyclists had the run of the place, and we had to be especially careful driving around town.

The next morning we ambled a very short distance east along highway 26, and then highway 7 toward Baker City. On the way we stopped at Bates State Park, and wandered through the brand new park built to commemorate the tiny logging town that once existed there. Visiting with the camp host was a treat, and there were only 2 rigs in the entire park. The trees are young, there is no internet access (he told us we could drive a few miles to milepost 6 to get a phone signal). He said his busiest weekends might have up to 7 rigs in the park. We enjoyed his down home conversation, and loved his description of camp hosting in such a quiet park.

The Union Creek Forest Service campground seemed much more inviting even without hook-ups than camping in a city RV park jammed up against the interstate 84. We wanted to spend plenty of time at the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center, and still have plenty of time to explore Baker City, touted as an amazing place to visit by all the Travel Oregon booklets we had been collecting. 9-09-2013 Sumpter Dredge

Not far west of our evening destination, however, was a turn-off to the historic town of Sumpter and the Sumpter Valley Dredge. As we approached the old gold mining town, the huge piles of tailings left behind by the dredge were evident all along the drainageway. I was familiar with dredge gold mining from other areas in the Idaho mountains, and have tried to map soils on landscapes forever altered by hydraulic mining in California. But I had never actually seen a dredge or understood how they work. If you are interested in the actual mechanical workings of the dredge and its history, click here.

This huge dredge was used in the Sumpter Valley from 1935 to 1954. It was interesting that during this time there was a second gold rush to the area, and it lasted until the price of gold again went too low to make it profitable. I appreciated the Oregon State Park volunteer that offered incredibly detailed information about the dredge, its operation, and back stories of the people who lived in Sumpter and ran the dredge. The little museum room at the state park had a nostalgic photo album of the reunions of original dredge workers over the last decade.

When we arrived at the park, the lot was almost completely empty, but as we started to leave, some kind of amazing parade of vintage cars entered town and turned into the park. I think there must have been 50 to 100 cars, all shiny and perfect, and they all poured into the lot as we were leaving so we got some nice close up looks at them. Sure did look like those folks were having a great time in their old cars.

For more photos of the Dredge and Sumpter click here

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We arrived at the campground, just a few more miles down the road, opened up the Fantastic Fan for Jeremy, and drove the short 20 miles into Baker City. Just 5 miles east from town is the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center. The building sits high on a hill, with a magnificent view of the Blue Mountains to the west and basin and range country to the east. It was hot when we got there, even though it was late afternoon, so Mo walked around with Abby while I explored the center. Of course no dogs are allowed inside, and the trails, while open to dogs, were made of hot asphalt, not good for doggie paws.

I enjoyed an hour in the various exhibits, then walked Abby while Mo took a turn. When she came out, we decided that it really was too hot to try to hike down to the Oregon Trail wagon ruts, but from the high point you could see the scars in the desert where thousands of people fled their lives in the east for the Promised Land of Oregon.

I have no idea why but somehow the stories were depressing instead of inspirational to me. I felt the pain, the sadness, the death and loneliness of the trail. There was a special exhibit of narrated stories of individuals traveling that was especially touching. I could see young women, pregnant or with young children, following their husbands wild dreams into new territory. They left behind friends, family, and familiarity and in most cases never saw their loved ones again.

Made me think of how much I love to travel, and yet how much I love to be home, how much I love to be able to talk to my kids, or even get a text or a facebook post from them.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center

It was a wonderful exhibit, but definitely left me feeling somewhat pensive. I was glad when we returned to our hot, dry, very open and very empty campground to all the comforts of our “covered wagon”. Good food, water, a toilet, a shower, lights, shelter, all taken completely for granted most of the time, but not on this night. As I fell asleep I was still haunted by the stories of the trail. More photos of the Interpretive Center are here.

The next morning we continued east to Baker City, leaving late enough to be leisurely, and yet early enough to explore what we thought might be an area that would require several hours if not an entire day. Our first stop was the visitor center, which was closed on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Great. We finally found a sign outside where there were a few brochures, and picked up the Walking Tour Guide. Whew! At least we could see some of the famous historic buildings and have a clue what they were about.

We walked the town, a bit disappointed with the guide that didn’t include even half of the buildings that we could see with Historic Register signs on them. The galleries were a bit disappointing as well, with one of them actually lit with fluorescent lights, and many of them not even open. Geez, it is only September! The nicest parts of town were the beautiful Geiser Grand Hotel, although we were only allowed in the main part of the lobby as unregistered guests. We also were impressed with the Carnegie Library, now a city art center that seemed full of life and activity. 9-10-2103 Historic Baker City

Baker City was once the Queen City of the Mines and was considered a cultural oasis in the emptiness of Eastern Oregon. There were restaurants, fine hotels, orchestras and opera, and beautiful elaborate homes. By 1900, the population was nearly 7,000 people, more than either Boise or Spokane at the time. We enjoyed parts of Baker City, but didn’t find a lot to keep us there more than a couple of hours. I would say that the Chamber of Commerce has done a great job of promoting their town, they got us to go there, but we still didn’t spend any money.

North Coast explorations, Astoria, Fort Clatsop, and Seaside

February 22nd

The wind blew all night and the rain came down in buckets but we were happily camped on asphalt, not a bad thing in the Oregon Coastal climate. After a cozy breakfast in the MoHo, we jumped into the Tracker and headed north to explore Astoria. Costco is conveniently located right in Warrenton on 101, between the entrance road to Camp Rilea and the road to Fort Stevens. Even with our 10c discount at Freddy’s just up the road, Costco gas was still a lot cheaper, and we paid 3.65 per gallon/regular to fill up both rigs. I suppose that will be considered cheap by the end of the coming summer according to the news pundits.

We did as we often do, seeking out the local Visitor Information Center for Astoria before beginning our tour of the town. Of course, the most famous attraction is the Astoria Column, an impressive sight with equally impressive views on a clear day. Mo and I paid our dollars and climbed the steps back in 2004 when we visited Astoria on our first cruise together, so didn’t feel the need to go up there again.

Instead we purchased an auto tour CD for a buck to tell us some of the stories about the historic sites around town. It took a bit of doing to figure out how to get to the sites on the map while trying to listen to the CD. The numbers weren’t in order on the map and it made it hard to appreciate what we were hearing while Mo was attempting to navigate the narrow hilly streets. Too late in the process, I figured out that we should have simply driven to the spot and then fast forwarded the CD to the correct track. Hindsight!

In spite of the technical difficulties, we did have a good time listening to the stories of the early maritime history of Astoria, founded in 1811 as the first white community on the west coast. There are many beautiful historic homes, including the Flavel House, considered one of the finest examples of Victorian architecture in Oregon. Our CD tour guide told many stories about the folks who were influential in Astoria history, and the biggest surprise for me was the strong influence of the Finnish population that dominated the fishing and canning industry here in the early part of the century.

Being a Wednesday, during the winter season, we were disappointed to see that many of the cute little shops we remembered from 2004 were closed for the day, and the main street just didn’t have enough zing to get us out of the car to stroll and shop. I think I may have been a bit shop worn from the previous quilt run anyway. Instead, we wandered around some of the side roads, attempting to get a feel for the folks who live here, and found that the north facing very steep slope that is so visible along the river and from the highway is just a taste of the winding back streets that lead to charming neighborhoods filled with 20’s style Craftsman homes and less charming subdivisions filled with 70’s ranch style houses. Astoria is bigger than it looks!

Our trip out of town led us back toward Business 101 instead of the main freeway, and we wandered among wetlands and idle agricultural land for a few miles to discover we were right on the road to Fort Clatsop. In our Lewis and Clark National and State Historic Park brochure, Fort Clatsop was among the main park sites, scattered on both sides of the Columbia in Oregon and Washington, so we were delighted to have found it without any effort at all.

The visitor center was lovely, with a great movie about Capt. Meriwether Lewis and Capt. William Clark, who were only 29 and 33 years old when they departed from St Louis at the order of President Thomas Jefferson to find the most direct water route to the Pacific, making scientific and geographic observations along the way. Even though a Lewis and Clark fan for many years, I newly discovered that Sacagawea was NOT along on the trip for any kind of guidance, but was more an emissary to the various tribes the Corps encountered, proving that they were coming in peace since they had a woman in their party.

I also learned the the Corps of Discovery, and the Lewis and Clark expedition, was the forerunner to our present day Army Corps of Engineers. I have two distinct impressions of the COE. The best impression is of the wonderful campgrounds that we enjoy thanks to the COE. The other impression is one held a long time by university earth scientist types who hold up really horrendous examples of COE projects that didn’t take into account any kind of common sense. My favorite geology prof in college always showed dramatic slide shows of landslides precipitated by COE projects cutting of the toe slope of some great mountain along the Salmon River and then wondering why the road kept getting buried.

The Fort Clatsop site is fascinating and lovely, and as I stood at the spot where the explorers set their canoes for the home trip back to St Louis, it was easy to imagine it was 1806. The expedition wintered at this fort, of course now a replica stands here, but the stories of their winter and their interactions with the Clatsop people was fascinating. I was curious, though, as to why we hear so much about their trip to the Pacific, and very little about the trip home. Interpreters at the center got into a lively discussion about this, and one of them thought it was probably because the fun was over and they were basically really bored on the trip home. Sound like RV bloggers maybe?

We then backtracked past Camp Rilea to explore Seaside, a town that is definitely NOT the answer to Carmel. Seaside is more funky and down to earth, with a very long beach and a lot of touristy shops and souvenirs. Again, on this windy, cold, midweek winter day, it was quiet, with many shops closed, but I did slip into the Carousel Mall to see the famous carousel, one of the big attractions in the summer. Interestingly, the carousel is inside rather out in a park, so that is a testament to the possible windy, cold conditions of this part of the Oregon coast, no matter what time of year you visit.

Tomorrow we leave Camp Rilea and travel north across the famous bridge at Astoria, to cross the Columbia and explore more of the National Park sites on our way to Long Beach, Washington.

The Mighty Columbia

(This post is from February 21 and 22 )

After two days of quilt shopping all along the Oregon Coast, it was time for us to relax back into our original plan to explore places yet unseen by both of us. Fort Stevens, Fort Clatsop, Astoria, and Long Beach on the Oregon Coast all have one thing in common. The incredible history of Lewis and Clark and their journey to the Pacific is the thread that ran through the rest of our time during our coastal road trip. Being winter, the beaches were beautiful, but cold and windy, and lazy beachcombing explorations were cut short when we would look at each other and say, “OK, Enough!”

Mo’s family, originally from North Dakota, relocated to the small mill town of Columbia City on the Columbia River north of Portland when she was just a toddler. She grew up with that truly mighty river in her backyard, a playground for homemade wooden rafts and watching the passing freighters. In spite of this, she doesn’t remember thinking much about the passage of Lewis and Clark down that same river.

I relocated to Idaho in my late 20’s and spent the next 25 years or so mapping soils throughout Lewis and Clark territory, sometimes actually walking on the trails they walked north of the Lochsa River and over Lolo Pass, and having lunch at Canoe Camp along the Clearwater. I mapped Nez Perce lands and in the process learned much about their interaction with the Corps of Discovery. I was fascinated then by their story, and for me this trip to the final destination of that amazing journey was extra special.

Our campsite at Fort Stevens was cloaked in mist when we woke on Tuesday morning. Our plan was to explore a bit and then move south to Camp Rilea, a Military Family Camp with full hookups and good television for a mere $20 per day. I can see why Fort Stevens is such a popular camp in the summer, with more than 500 spacious sites, lots of history and long stretches of open beach. For us, on this windy and cloudy morning, we decided to first check out the wreck of the Peter Iredale, one of the more than 2,000 ships claimed by the treacherous Columbia River bar since 1792, earning the bar the name “Graveyard of the Pacific”.

We had the beach to ourselves, and I worked very hard to get my photos to show something other than a seriously gray landscape. Even Abby wasn’t too interested in running on the cold, wet beach. The sands on this part of the Oregon coast are much finer as well, and darker in color, so with all the storms, the water was thick and muddy as the waves crashed inland.

Following our map of things to see at Fort Stevens, we drove north to the South Jetty and the ocean and wildlife viewing platforms at Clatsop Spit. As we approached the jetty, huge waves were crashing over the rocks and we were glad for the viewing platform to at least get a glimpse of the wild ocean.

The north and south jetties at the mouth of the river were built between 1885 and 1895 and served to keep beach sand from clogging the river. The sands have built up over time and the shoreline is now actually a full mile farther west than it was when Lewis and Clark arrived in 1805.

We drove through the State Historic Site portion of the park, with it’s tiny museum, but chose to continue to one of the historic batteries to get out and explore. Fort Stevens was actually constructed in 1862 during the Civil War and remained active until shortly after World War II. Although the guns have been removed, the concrete batteries remain.

We climbed the moss covered steps of Battery Russel and walked alone among what was left of our nation’s defense against a Japanese invasion. In fact, Fort Stevens was the only military installation on the continental United States to have been fired upon since the war of 1812. If you enlarge the photo on the left, (by clicking on it) you can read the information on the sign we found at the site. There is so much to see at Fort Stevens, and I can see how lovely it might be on a summer day, but because of the season, we had it almost all to ourselves. I know the weather here can be iffy any time of year, however, so even a summer trip would require plans for rain and wind and fog.

With most of the morning gone, it was time to get back to the rig and move our camp south to Camp Rilea. Just a couple miles south of Fort Stevens, Camp Rilea is an armed forces training camp first established for the National Guard in 1927. Even though there were only ten sites, all on pavement, I think we enjoyed it more than any other MFC we have visited. Once settled into our spot at the end of the line, we had wide open view of the pristine white buildings and red roofs surrounded by acres and acres of perfectly mowed grass, occasionally dotted with a large herd of Roosevelt elk that casually wandered through the grounds.

Once again settled in, we decided to return via Highway 101 to Cannon Beach, where I hoped to get a view and a photo of the famous Haystack Rock, the oft photographed icon of the Oregon Coast. By the time we got there, it was late afternoon, but in spite of the rain and wind, there were a few hardy souls walking on the beach and exploring the town that calls itself the Oregon coast answer to California’s Carmel. With some effort, we found beach access and walked down to the famous sea stack.

Cannon Beach was delightful, even in the rain, but Mo waited in the misted up car with Abby while I explored beautiful galleries and colorful candy shops. We then found the historic Driftwood Inn just in time for a happy hour Irish Coffee before going back north in the waning evening light.

Tomorrow: Astoria, Fort Clatsop, and Seaside

Raining on the Oregon Coast–Really!?

It is exactly what we expected when we planned a trip north from Brookings for this week in mid February. Why north when the possibilities for good weather were probably much better if we went south? The MoHo is in Brookings, and for the last few trips our route has been south, heading for the California beaches, the California deserts, warm days, sunny skies. But that is the key word, California, and we decided it might be nice to skip the traffic and people and explore our own magnificent coastline farther north than we have been together in the MoHo.

The plan was for a leisurely amble north toward Astoria, fully expecting rain and storms. There are huge groups of people who migrate to this coast specifically at this time of year to storm watch, and it is also time for the migrating gray whales to be moving north. Imagine our surprise on Saturday afternoon when we arrived in Brookings to sunny skies and temperatures as high as 60 degrees! There wasn’t a bit of fog except for a low bank on the horizon far west of the shoreline, and the bluebird skies were wonderful.

When we left Rocky Point, the sun was shining on the freshly fallen skiff of snow and over the pass we passed through some serious winter conditions with a bit of whiteout here and there. In Medford it was cloudy and raining, in Grants Pass the hail and sleet were pounding hard on the roof and then we passed through intermittent rain and squalls and sunshine all the way to Hiouchi, where we habitually check to see if our “spot” is empty. Usually it is taken, and we smiled remembering camping there along the little creek. It is a great little campground just inland from Crescent City.

With the MoHo stored in Brookings just a few minutes from Harris Beach, we have no need to stay anywhere else. Harris Beach has become our first and last night destination of choice. This time when we opened up the storage shed, all was perfect, no bad smells, no vandals cutting holes in the walls to ransack our rig, no mice shredding anything at all. Even though we assume the MoHo is safe, we have learned the hard way that when she is away from us for a few weeks at a time, who knows what surprises might await us when we open that door.

We drove immediately to the park where we scored another front row site with electric, water, and cable. Other sites in this row were completely full since most of them have a tremendous view of the ocean. Our view was not quite as dramatic, but we still could see the wide open sea from our back window. In spite of the sun, the wind was chilly and even though we picked up some local firewood bundles, the wet grass and cold breezes kept us cozy and warm inside.

We set up the rig, and then ran back to town to buy enough groceries at Freddy’s to be sure that we would qualify for our ten cent off fuel cost the next morning when we planned to fill the empty MoHo. Just down the street from Freddy’s (Fred Meyer Stores for those who aren’t Northwesterners), is the delightful little quilt shop I found our last time in Brookings. I thought it might be nice to check in there that afternoon since the next day was Sunday and of course quilt shops probably wouldn’t be open. Big surprise!

I had somehow managed to hit the first quilt shop in a list of 14 in the last weekend of the ongoing Quilt Run 101, stretching from Brookings all the way to Astoria. I had Sunday and Monday to get my passport card stamped at each of the 14 shops to qualify for a fancy Janome quilting machine or one of many gift certificates. Whoopie! We had already decided that we would move fairly quickly through the southern and mid coast where we have traveled before and slow down to explore the north coast, so the two day run wasn’t really much different than our original plan.

We woke on Sunday morning once again to brilliant sunshine and no fog. Winds coming from the north were cold, but I guess that is what keeps the fog away this time of year. Before we got back on the road, we enjoyed walking in the morning sunlight down toward the beach and were aghast at the level of the high tide. The entire beach was almost completely inundated, something we haven’t seen before. Texting back and forth with my daughter, I mentioned it and she immediately sent the following text message to me:

“When the Moon, earth, and Sun are positioned in a straight line at new or full Moon, the tide producing forces of the Sun and Moon are added together giving extra low tides called “spring tides”. These are the best tides for beach combing, clamming or visiting tidepools. During the Moon’s first and last quarters, the Sun and Moon act at right angles to each other, and the result is a much reduced tidal range called a “neap tide”. Mom, you are seeing mixed tides and the highest high tide is in the morning in the spring”

So did she touch type that whole thing into her phone or copy it over from somewhere else?!!

I can’t remember when we have driven this part of the coast in sunshine, and it felt like we were in a completely new world. The quilt shop run was great fun, especially for Mo doing the driving, since almost all the shops were right on the main highway and parking on this lovely Sunday was easy, many times we pulled the MoHo and Toad right up to the front of the shop.

As a brand new quilter, I had so much fun seeing all the different styles of quilting and the different focus of each shop reflecting the owner’s artistic bent. We made it all the way to Newport on that first day, visiting 8 of the 14 shops, and Mo had a nice day while I shopped, walking Abby in the sunshine in all the little towns. In Florence, Mo was walking down the street and met a little girl who loved Abby and said, “Do you want me to go home and get my dog?” Mo said no, but within minutes the little girl was back with her dog, a sweet little beagle, who loved Abby as well. Too bad Mo doesn’t carry the camera!

South Beach State Park, just south of Newport, is familiar to us, a place where the beach is some distance from the campground, but roomy and we knew there wouldn’t be a problem getting a site. By the time we reached Newport, the sunny skies were just a memory and the normal gray clouds of the coast settled in around us. Again, in spite of the lovely campsite with a great fire pit, our wood went unused. The soup I had thawed went unused as well, since we thought it would be fun to go down to old town Newport for some obligatory coastal fish and chips. It was surprisingly busy in spite of the rain, but we found a table at the Rogue (used to be brewery but they moved the brewing part across the river) and had halibut fish and chips for 13.95 market price. It was a great little place, with fun people watching and a cozy vibe. I topped off the perfect halibut with a Dead Guy Ale. Gotta love those crafted brew names.

We left on Monday morning with only 135 miles and six shops to visit between Newport and Astoria. As we drove north through the rain, the landscape looked much more familiar, with mist and fog shrouding the green mountains around us. Sometimes the ocean was visible through the fog, and other times we couldn’t see much. I filled up the day with color, however, and Mo enjoyed hanging in the MoHo reading while I shopped. A couple of times I was asked if I had a husband waiting in the car. Nope! There were a few guys shopping with their wives, but others just rolled their eyes at the thought of a patient person waiting while they shopped for fabric. I couldn’t help thinking of Rick and Paulette and all her shopping trips.

We gassed up the rig at Costco near Warrenton and unhooked the tracker for the ten mile run to Astoria, where I visited the last two shops and turned in my completed card with just minutes to spare. We will slow down and visit Astoria again in the next few days, since I was worn out with shopping and was definitely ready to settle in for the night.

The rain intensified as we backtracked to pick up the MoHo and drive to Fort Stevens State Park it was raining hard. Paul and Nina had recommended loop N for nice open sites, but when we arrived, the only loops open in the huge campground were H and I. H had two rigs and I had two rigs, so we picked a spot on the I loop right next to the showers, something we often avoid, but it didn’t matter since no one was there. Worked out perfect for me and I made use of the shower at 3AM just steps from the door, but you already know that part of the story.

The next day we planned to explore Fort Stevens, and decide whether we want to stay here or move a short distance south to the Camp Rilea Family Camp. Tune in to find out!