Down the coast

Judy and Mutt Leigh at Cape Lookout

   Judy and I set off drive down the Oregon coast, from Astoria in the north to Brookings in the south.  The weather in the Willamette Valley where we live was predicted to reach 100 degrees, so we soaked the garden for days before we left.
   We spent a night in Astoria, catching glimpses of the big ships on the river. I liked seeing the way the light hits the buildings there. The light is different  at the mouth of the Columbia River from the way it looks in our river valley, 45 miles inland. On the second day we meandered south past fabulous overlooks to Pacific City, where we immersed ourselves in an older version of the  Oregon coast. As we drove in, Judy kept saying, "This doesn't look like the Pacific City I remember."  There were tall modern condos with balconies overlooking the ocean, a large tourist market open 24 hours a day, and a crowded brewpub next to the beach where the surf-launched fishing dories put in.

Our room with extension cord at Pacific City

     When we crossed the Nestucca River, we got to the original commercial district and found our AAA- guaranteed motel.  What was that electrical wire so carefully snaked beneath our door?  It provided power to the trailers next door.  The room was probably clean, but looked like it hadn't  had anything done to it that costs money since 1960. I had forgotten what bad printing of Impressionist reproductions looks like; the pictures on the wall reminded me of college decor. The  wrought iron  chairs were too uncomfortable to sit on, so I sat on the small patio next to the painted coffee can with empty Marlboro packages in it.  In the morning Mutt Leigh was awakened by the resident Husky dog

Bad art

sniffing at our sliding glass door.  Judy kept saying, "I thought it would have an ocean view." But the manager was kindly concerned about Judy's health, and the neighbors in the trailer were considerate.  I spent peaceful hours on the patio while Judy rested.
    We looked for breakfast in the older part of town.  We passed the public library with its adjacent community gardens, and I shopped at the large high-end thrift shop that helps support the library.

Library with community garden

The Grateful Bread bakery was closed because it was Tuesday, so we crowded into the only other option, Lori's Village Coffee Shoppe.  There was a red-white and blue 4th of July theme everywhere, from the butterflies on the soffits to the hand towels in the rest room. The smart, busy waitresses wore T-shirts that say, "Pacific City, a quaint little drinking village with a fishing problem."
    It only took us two hours to drive south to Newport, but by that time Judy was trembling with fatigue.  She crawled into bed in our fine room, muttering softly, "Could we stay here few more days?"  I had no investment in seeing Bandon or Brookings again, and there was no way I was going to put her in the car for another drive the next morning.  However, hotel rooms up and down the coast were completely booked with  people looking to escape the heat.  The manager at the Elizabeth Street Inn said simply, "I'm aware of the situation," and she juggled.  We stayed in Newport for five nights.