Along the Oregon coast, the lookout points just keep one-upping each other.
Why did no one ever tell me about Oregon?!
Well, I suppose they did. “Oregon is beautiful,” I have heard here and there. But it was whispers compared to all the gushing I heard about California, Alaska, Utah, Colorado. Somehow, the Beaver State snuck through the cracks. What a travesty.
We began early on the edge of Northern California on Highway 101, winding through a cloud. Nature’s god must have known the show we were in for and thought to set the stage with a front curtain.
Somehow, Paul Bunyan had brought Babe the Blue Ox all the way from Minnesota. He must have been searching for that beautiful redwood lumber.
Cross the Oregon border, and the curtain magically lifts. You get a bit more forest, and then, all of a sudden, you’re there: the Samuel H. Boardman State Scenic Corridor. It’s the twelve-mile stretch of Highway 101 that hugs the southernmost part of the Oregon coast. Rolling forests to your right, and on your left, a series of spots to pull over, with short paths leading to beaches and lookout points. And they just keep one-upping each other.
First stop: Cape Ferrelo Viewpoint. Not bad at all.
Second stop: Whaleshead Beach, down a dirt road that will wreck your car’s axles. Worth it.
Then there’s the big one, the absolutely must-see: Natural Bridges. What is a natural bridge, you ask?
This gentleman and his dog wanted a better view.
Last for us, Arch Rock Viewpoint.
With too little time and great regret, we kept pushing forward. Our main stop for the day was Bandon, a lovely beach community at the spot where the Pacific Ocean becomes a river. One of NR’s fine editors, Craig Young, has family in the area. He told me that half his family swears by the clam chowder served by a “bait shop” on the shore, while the other half swears by the chowder of the place right next door. Apparently, it’s a bitter feud.
So, naturally, my mother and I split up to buy clam chowder from each place to compare. I thought the winner was obvious. So did she — in the opposite direction. This must be a phenomenon like the dress that broke the internet a decade back. (It’s blue and black!)
I’m from the Midwest, so I thought I knew what heavy wind was like. Bandon blew me away. Driving there on the highway, it sounds like you’re in a jetliner. We managed to plow through to the beach, where a father and his two sons were catching crabs off the dock. (One of the chowder places, Tony’s Crab Shack, will cook your crab if you bring it to them!) The boys had just gotten lucky.
You can’t get purer turquoise than this water.
For the rest of the ride, we had to cut in toward the east to get to the town of Sandy for the night, in the foothills of the Cascade Mountain Range outside Portland. The forests, mountains, and rivers along the way are almost as gorgeous as the coast, but we were too short on time to stop.
I did spare a moment to climb up this sand dune in Dunes City, though! At the top was — can you guess? — a lot more sand dunes. Sliding down was a lot more fun than going up.
Oregon puts its wealth of natural resources to productive use. Timber was everywhere along (and on) the road, including mountains of it in sawdust form. Vast fields of hay sat waiting to be rolled up. There were countless farms of hazelnut, Christmas trees, berry brambles, and garden shrubs. This fabulous state puts New Jersey’s nickname to shame.
Finally, we caught a glimpse of where we were headed next. Onward to the Hood.
This is an installment in a cross-country road-trip adventure.