Coos Bay

Coos Bay, Oregon

September 18 - 22, 2016

Coos Bay is a place we loved.  A setting of low ferns and towering trees.  Cliffs and surf.  Whales and snails.  Each day we merely surrendered to the setting sun and the promise that, tomorrow, it would still all be there.  We perched on rocks and watched the waves crash below us.  Watched the surfers paddle out and surf back in to the rocky beaches. We took long trails, always damp, always green with a pine needle littered floor.  The trees were wiry and full of arms reaching.  The cliffs were high and steep and filled with the low sound of water rushing through caves below us. 

Olive found the best rock face for climbing and Tom took the chance to give rock climbing lessons to both the girls.  Olive's feet always seemed to know just where to go.  By the end of the day, Tom had taught Ivy the same and she stood victorious at the bottom, having finally made it to the top and back again.   I held my breath and my tongue at the bottom.  Eventually, I celebrated with them all when it was finally over.  We came back to to that rock many times over the next few days.

Most days we spent on the hunt for tide pools.  Touching anemones and learning all their names.  We discovered a surf shack and collected sea glass for an entire afternoon.  On one day, we took a drive to an enormous sand dune and spent the day running and sliding, even swimming in the sand.  We only face planted once.

Each day was long and also somehow too short.  Oregon is now on our short list of places we could live.  Who knows?  

Sunset Bay - Beware the Raccoons

Sunset Bay State Park Campground
September 18- 22, 2016

We were just passing through.  Just searching for a place to spend the night on our way down the coast.  And then...we stayed for five days.  Every time we turned around, there was another thing to see or another path to saunter.

Another reason we enjoyed this particular route is that, apparently, Oregon is obsessed with the Sasquatch.  At every turn, another pun, another joke, another t-shirt, another statue.  We didn't skip the opportunity to lay our hands on one.

The Coos Bay Campground was an especially tranquil, lovely place.  We settled into our first site by perfecting our sitting log.  Tom chipped away at the downed log, bark flying, until it was just perfect.  I made pancakes and the kids laughed while the flying wood chips made their way into our pancake batter.  Wood Chip Surprise Pancakes we called them.




Our first morning started out so quiet, but that peace was abruptly dashed when an RV pulled in right beside us.  Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, but they felt the need to run their generator the whole time.  Despite the giant bushes between us, that generator was only a few feet away from our campfire. The campground was nice enough to let us move spots, and since we had already taken great care to set up our home just right, we decided it made more sense to just pick up the whole thing and walk it through the campground.  We gave all the other campers a little giggle as they drank their morning coffee while we marched down the road carrying our tent.  And then we tied a rope around our sitting log and drug that to our new campground as well.  I have to say...the new site was a serious upgrade!   Big shout out to the obnoxious RV generator people for forcing our hand!

  

Each morning, we drove down to our breakfast spot to cook our breakfast and do some whale watching.   And each morning, sitting on that table would be a bouquet of flowers.  A local told me that an old man brought them each morning as a memorial to his wife.  It was also their favorite place to sit and rest.

Days were full of walking the trails and watching the whales.  Nights were full of UNO games and toasty campfires.  There was one unfortunate night when the campground was subjected to my screams as a maniacal hissing raccoon tried to jump me on the way to the bathroom.  But despite that, we will probably make our way back to Sunset Bay.  Five thumbs up.

A Swift Time in Portland

Portland, Oregon
September 11-15, 2016

Everyone tells you that you have to go to Portland.  It is a scruffy, quirky, lively town.  The kids got a quick lesson in fashion.  Whether you are talking tops or bottoms, dress up, dress down or business casual...fishnets are the way to go.  And don't forget your wig.  

We paid our Portland tax (the hour long wait in the Voodoo Doughnut line) and stopped in to check out the infamous Burnside skatepark.  While Tom skated, the kids and I went to Mother's restaurant to do our homework and eat some crazy good macaroni and cheese.  Note to self...if I ever decide to go into the restaurant business, I'm going to dub it "Mother's Restaurant".  New Orlean's best restaurant is also called Mother's and so I'm noticing a trend.  We trust our mothers!  As we SHOULD ya'll!

After a good day doing all the Portlandian things, Tom pulled an unforgettable surprise out of his sleeve.  Apparently, every fall, Vaux Swifts migrate south for the winter and pass through Portland.  Each September, one particular population of them take up residence in the chimney of the Chapman Elementary School.  About an hour before sunset, the townspeople come out in the thousands to sit on the lawn and watch them return to the roost.  For nearly an entire month, it is a nightly ritual for both the swifts and the locals.  The children drag their cardboard boxes to the top of the hill on the school lawn and spend the entire evening sledding. Meanwhile, those too vain to get the grass stains on their jeans keep their eyes on the gathering swifts in the sky.  You can feel the anticipation of the crowds as the birds begin circling the chimney and then suddenly, at some mysterious prompt, begin funneling into the small chimney opening.  And I do mean funneling.  It is like watching an Audubon tornado. When the final swift spirals down into the chimney, the entire school yard cheers.  

It is such a breathtaking nightly ritual and I am so grateful that we were able to participate.  As the crowd packs up their picnics, space opens up on the lawn and the big kids come out to play.  The hill, formerly reserved for the little ones, is taken over by the adults.  We are all worn out after only a few treks up the hill.  We don't know how the children climbed up and down that hill all night long.  Darkness finally settles over the yard and I'm left pondering how the school kids do it the next morning.  How can they learn the differences between nouns and verbs, memorize all those facts, work through the long division?  How can they possibly do all that and not dream, amazed at the thousands of wings behind the bricks in the wall?

Housesitting in Portland





Helvetia, Oregon 

September 10th - 17th, 2016 

 

 

                 

Over the past few years, we have been paying a lot of attention to people who are finding interesting and alternative ways to live and travel.  The idea of housesitting for vacation kept surfacing in our searches.  The concept is that families, especially those with beloved pets, who need to leave their home for a period of time, are paired up with families that want to visit that same city on vacation.  It is a smart and resourceful idea.  The homeowners get a watchful eye on their homes and special attention paid to their pets by people who come with references and reviews through the housesitting website.  The vacationing families get a free place to lodge as long as they take care of the pets.  Although the website we used,  Trusted Housesitters does come with a $100 annual membership fee, but this seems to add some legitimacy to the homeowners and the potential housesitters. 

The housesitting sites are most commonly used by retired couples or frequently traveling singles.  For this reason, although I have always been in love with the concept, I didn't see it as a realistic option for our family.  Seriously, if a family is willing to pay the $100 membership fee to seek out this type of housesitter, who are they going to choose?  The sweet retired couple with dozens of site reviews, or this wild bunch of five?  Even so...we decided we needed to at least give it a shot. 

Since we had a full five weeks in front of us on this trip, with no real agenda in mind, we did, at least, have a ton of flexibility of housesits we could apply for.  Imagine my surprise, then, at being accepted for the very first housesit that we did apply for in a city we actually did want to visit!  There was a sweet little farm just outside of Portland Oregon that needed someone to take care of a cute little terrier, two cats, 8 ducks, 50 chickens and 5 roosters.  Honestly, I think we were selected primarily for the number of hands we had.  A few of them may be pretty small, but ten hands make for much lighter work.  This was a great opportunity for us, because it allowed us to get our foot in the door and get a review under our belt, paving the way for other potential homeowners that wouldn't otherwise consider us.





 I honestly had no idea what to really expect, but I suspect we have been very spoiled on our first gig.  The house was beautiful and the location was nothing short of magical.  The pets, even the chickens, were the sweetest things.  The work was so satisfying and it was very special to see our kids stepping up to the plate, pridefully taking responsibility.  I was a very proud mama to see them.  In the end, I was proud of all of us, caring for that family in every possible way.

The things I don't want to forget...

Each morning, I would wake around dawn and walk out to the roost.  My feet would make quiet swishing sounds as I made my way through the tall grass.  The roost, obscured by fog, would eventually appear through the mist.  The impatient crow of the roosters and clucking of the hens greeting me as  I climbed over the fence to let them out to play.  The hens would eye me with expectation as I released the locks from the hen house to let them out.  I had expected a bustle of feathers and frenzied feet , but I would smile, pleasantly surprised at the pecking order that required they vacate in the predetermined orderly fashion.  One particular hen, my favorite of the flock, would always jump onto the bar and wait, like a watchful sentinel, as the others made their way to the feed.  At that point, I became entirely irrelevant to them.  A mere spectator that had already served my purpose in their day.  I could quietly watch them as they made their way, occasionally smiling at the few who would peck at the stray chicken feed on the tops of my boots. 
 

   
 

                                              
We loved watching our two youngest children diligently checking the nesting boxes for eggs.  Collecting them while they were still clean and warm.  Beautiful blues and speckled browns filling the cartons.    It was a sweet thing to watch Dizzy in the duck house, priding himself on being able to change the water by himself, filling the food trays and tempting them with scratch in hand.  Giggling at the funny way they would chase themselves around the fence.  Ivy reading quietly to herself in the swing.  The sound of their laughter coming through the trees while they played on Tom's ingenious three seater hammock-swing. Dizzy snuggling up to kitties in a field of butter colored flowers.  The cats sitting in my lap while I worked. Eating dinner together on the porch at sunset each night and reading with Tom afterwards. Walking back to shut the hens in their roost at dusk, the horizon purple to the west and the city lights spread out down the hillside to the east.  The waning cluck of the brood as I walked away for the night.  The soft swish of the kitten's tails as they followed me back to the house each evening, also ready to be put to bed. The glow from the windows before I finally went back inside, knowing that indeed, all the lovely things were safe for the night.
 
  

 

  

 

 
                                      

 
                                      

 

        

 

 
And oddly, I don't ever want to forget the moment that Olive put the family puppy, Chewy, back into its kennel for the very last time.  The way Chewy knew the difference between saying goodbye for the day and saying goodbye for good.  Olive's sweet tears as she walked away from the dog's tiny whimper.  Tears that showed she really loved a thing.  Good tears.

This was, hands down, the most relaxing time on vacation I have ever spent.  It was like actually trying on a new life for a week.  There were so many things we want to take away from it.  We might actually consider a few chickens.  I think we all want a sweet outdoor cat to call our own.  But mostly,  I want a place where my kids have that much freedom to roam.  The way I did with my sisters, a child on a farm.