For the second time, a snake came between my partner and I.
Literally.
Years ago we were on a romantic walk comparing the contrast in our upbringing when I boasted about being a “tough girl from Winnipeg”. With no word of a lie, right after the words fell from my mouth a snake came jutting out of the grass as if on cue and made me squeal like a frightened mouse. It was only a garter snake but my cover of toughness was foiled. My partner laughs about it to this day (it was beautifully set up by an malevolent God). On this occasion, while arguing over whether or not I was wearing appropriate shoes for a hike (I had on sandals as part of the Pacific Coast Trail would cover a beach and I didn’t want sand in my sneakers), my partner expressed that we couldn’t be certain which species of animals were native to the region including, perhaps, poisonous snakes which my feet were fully exposed to.
Again—no word of a lie—cue a snake slithering through the four (or so) feet of space between my partner and I.
What was originally supposed to be a relaxing hike with the ocean and all its majesty at my side ended with me screaming and sprinting back to the car as fast as I could.
For the record, this also ended up being a garter snake.
In Crescent City, CA, I got to see some less scary wildlife including several injured walruses being treated at a marine animal rehabilitation centre, and one curious sea lion swimming around the marina in search of fish. We later hit the 101 and began driving back north up the Oregon Coast to our next destination, Lincoln City.
Highway 101, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway, is one of the most scenic drives on the planet. It is a near constant vista of sand and surf for thousands of miles. I really wish I had a dash cam for this road trip to relive parts of it. What really amazed me was that there was hardly anyone on it. We were traveling during peak tourist season and for great stretches seemed to be the only two people in the universe. Oregon has always been like that though; even while traveling as a kid, I recall the beaches being mostly desolate. The temperature, while inviting for a Canadian, seemed to scare off most locals who appreciated it from a distance. These reasons contribute to the fact that I truly feel Oregon is the most underrated place in the United States. It’s all yours.
In Lincoln City, we stayed at a rented beach house. I tried not to get too comfortable as the lifestyle is beyond my means for anything longer than a few days. But should I ever land that long dreamed of lottery win, a home within earshot of the sound of waves lapping on a shore is at the top of my list. I had a lot of time to contemplate this as the weather was raining for most of our stay. I also thought about my father. This was one of HIS favourite spots as well. It feels like just yesterday we were here climbing the rocks with my childhood dog, Pepper, counting starfish, and marvelling at the giant kelp washed ashore each morning. Oh, how full of wonder the sea was and still is. But these memories are from long ago. Of a time that could never be replicated. So I store them in a heart-shaped box and aim to make new ones.
While finally turning round to head home, a stop at the legendary Voodoo Doughnut was a must. There are several locations within Portland, OR. The one I visited appeared to be an old casual sit-down restaurant that had it’s prime in the eighties (it specifically conjured memories of Bonanza Steakhouse for me, a long-gone staple of middle class Canadian dining). They outfitted the establishment to modern instagram-worthy tastes, including an exterior selfie wall and area for branded merchandise. I was not there for a t-shirt though, I wanted a doughnut (maybe two). The selection at Voodoo is legendary—I think they are the only place to have a doughnut shaped like a penis as part of their daily offerings—and at first I was overwhelmed with what to choose. I eventually settled on my favourites: one maple dip and one “voodoo doll” (which was a raspberry jam stuffed chocolate dip). After brief small talk with my server, I departed and went to my car to enjoy.
I bit that chocolate bastard’s head off in one bite.
It was a fitting conclusion to a “tough Winnipeg girl’s” summer of doughnuts.
Pier at Crescent City, California (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
View from living room of beach house rental, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
View from beach house rental, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Empty beach, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Flora and fauna, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Starfish, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Sand art, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Our rental beach house, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
A rainy day excursion to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, Tillamook, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
A rainy day excursion to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, Tillamook, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
A rainy day excursion to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, Tillamook, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).