Those Oregon Miles
You ever go on one of those sweet road trips? You know the type — a ton of miles, a dirty car, songs on repeat till your eardrums bleed and more beef jerky than you can imagine? Shit, I hadn’t really had one of those since a McCall, ID trip when I was 9 — or was it 8? Remind me to tell you the story about how I learned how to play pool that summer.
Anyway, it’s hard to really narrow down why we love em so much. You used to break out the maps (no, not on your device) and really dig into the route. If you missed a turn, you pulled over to the side of the road and found out where you were. Siri or the Googles didn’t instantly save you. It was more simple then and a helluva lot more fun (yes, the dinosaurs also roamed the earth). And on the surface, the road trip itself is not really hard to do. I mean, you just kind of … commit and drive off. So, that’s what happened.
Day 1 — 6:53 am
After a full days’ drive and truck camping on a forest service road (dope), the morning took us to a beautiful lake overlook for solitude and coffee. There was something quite special about having a French press without the rustle of the city as your backdrop. Instead, there was near complete silence save for the motor of this man’s fishing boat. I hope these shots make you feel at ease; I know they did for me.
Day 1 — 9:28 am
Owner of a full stomach and achieving full caffeination, the next spot had to be Crater Lake. If you recall from my last visit to Crater, I suppose you may describe it as an awakening. In short, I had so much pent up emotion, and attempted a daring (idiotic) traverse across some super sketch rock faces in an attempt at securing a basic bitch photo opportunity. I completely failed. I didn’t fail because I missed the photo op. I failed because I approached the visit entirely from a space of ego. This time felt like a 180. Admittedly, I believe it comes across in the photos. I feel they convey enjoyment and awe compared to the grim mood of my last visit. I love the contrast between the visits and how the stories always come through in our photographs.
“I mean, you just kind of ... commit and drive off. So, that’s what happened.”
Day 2 — 4:32 pm
Following the success at Crater Lake National Park, I couldn’t help but think of how close we were to experiencing one of the most iconic vistas in the US. A few years ago, I was struggling through grad school and decided to take a couple of days to visit Brookings, OR. You may be wondering what is so special about Brookings, or you may be realizing why my classes were such garbage (I was an Instructor at Seattle University for a time) since I struggled through grad school. Alas, my buddy Jeff and I drove from Eugene to Brookings (which is basically Northern California). I knew what I wanted to see — natural bridges cove — as I had heard of the Samuel H. Boardman scenic corridor. To this day, it is the singular most epic and beautiful location I have ever experienced. So, of course we had to return. I’ll let you be the judge of the views :)
Day 3 — 9:15 am
Just a touch north of Samuel H. Boardman State Park is a small town named Langlois (it sounds cooler if you use your French accent). Residing at the heart of the city is a small batch coffee roaster — Floras Creek Coffee Co — home to the grandest mocha you’ve ever had (and also home to its eccentric owner - pro-tip: ask him what the speed limit is through the city and prepare for the epic conversation to follow). We fueled up the only way we knew how (mochas) and pushed up the remainder of the Oregon coast. Since Brookings nudges up against California, that meant a winding, breezing and absolutely fantastic drive through a number of locales. Let me tell you, the Oregon coast is something else. When you’re cruising along this famous coastline with the tunes on max, and other times silent, you can’t help but have your mind wander a bit. There were a couple of moments — usually when I was setting up a shot — when I wondered if we would come together to protect these, shall I say, sacred spots. When we visit these places, I believe they are offering us something. Whatever the something is - is unique to you. Yet, whatever words you use to describe their gift, the location and you remain entwined in a symbiotic relationship. Collectively, these experiences fuel your heart and you enter a sort of intimate space with the setting. I know I will continue to practice grace as I am fortunate enough to have the means of experience. If you choose to set out and encounter opportunity after seeing them through my personal lens, I hope it will inspire you to begin, or continue, to do the same.
“Collectively, these experiences fuel your heart and you enter a sort of intimate space with the setting.”
Day 4 — 6:29 am
On the final morning of the trip, the realization of returning home was in full swing. But being this early in the morning rewards you with a different perspective (and this is especially true at Cannon Beach). Every day, flocks of humans (and seagulls) visit Cannon, and for good reason. Haystack Rock is unrivaled and wicked. When there are so many people surrounding it, you can feel the anxiety of the rock. It sounds ridiculous, but I am dead ass serious. It is hard to enjoy the moment.
But, there is a momentous window of time before the crowds arrive when even Haystack Rock itself can relax. There are no people. No birds. No judgement. No anxiety. The morning fog is in full swing, the temperature is fleece-inducing, and every step on that wet sand feels like a victory for solitude. You walk out a few hundred feet and look down the coastline. And finally, you catch a glimpse of Haystack peering back at you as if to say, ‘welcome.’
I remember my McCall, ID road trip quite vividly. I can recreate many of the feelings in my head when I ‘saw this’ or ‘heard that’ for the first time. In some ways, that trip was a blueprint for how I want to move forward and it exemplifies a need to express gratitude for the many places that so effortlessly provide us what we search for.
Recall that at the core, a road trip is a relatively straightforward thing. You just kind of commit, and drive off. Yet, this Oregon adventure revealed an entirely new belief. It is the belief that the road trip is a gateway to a much larger commitment. It is one of patience and gratitude for your surroundings and the desire to nurture and protect them. So, I wonder what you’ll reveal about yourself the next time you commit … and drive off.