(south of) Florence, OR to (south of) South Bend, WA (9/21/06): The Penultimate Day

Ah ha! The next morning, the very next morning, I woke up! It was the day that was Monday, the 21th of August, this year of 2000 and 6. I was in Honemyan S.P., OR, and it was a good day. I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and ate my breakfast (though most likely not in that order), before heading out of the campground. As I was passing through and out of the campground, I decided to take a photograph of the sand-hill that I’d climbed the night before, and, as it happened, the sand-hill that so many sandboarders had sandboarded down the night before, and, I would guess, many other nights. Here it is:

I drove into Florence, stopped for gas at a Safeway, and saved big with their club card program! Seriously, I think I saved five cents per gallon, for a grand total of 50 cents or so, on the 30 or so dollars I spent! Big savings! Please pardon the profuse sarcasm, I’m not entirely certain what’s come over me.

I trekked onward (after going into the Safeway proper, and buying various juices and chicken parts). Which reminds me, it turns out that I didn’t actually eat breakfast at the campground, so if you could just politely disregard the part that you will already have read by the time you will have gotten to this point, and know to what I knowingly now refer, that would just be peachy. Thanks again!

After Safeway, I drove northward, and stopped at an overlook. I thought I’d have more time at the dunes, but it was not to be. Other than the darkness, this is basically the closest I got to them:

From that same general area, I took this photo. I had to check both directions of traffic and then scurry across the road to get it, but I thought it was worthwhile just because of how absurd and out of place it seemed.

There must be a bus stop right there or something, because it seems like the sign is stating the insanely obvious, especially when considering the extremely sharp curve just past the sign. Oh well, I felt it was worth documentation, so documented is has been.

Upon my sister’s advice, I ventured forth to the Sea Lion Cave. She seemed quite taken with it, but I wonder now if that isn’t because of her two small children and the wonder in their eyes at the sight of all those sea lions. She told me that it was the world’s tallest sea cave, and I’m inclined to believe it, but that’s all I can do. I didn’t actually get to see it, because that’s where all the sea lions were hanging out and it was totally off limits to the human kind. There was an opening in the cave, a chain-link fence, and a smaller portion of the cave into which humans were allowed. I wasn’t exactly satisfied with the interior confines of the cave. There was a vantage point on one end of the public area which used to be the entrance, and there were several (nay, many) sea lions hanging out below. There was a similar scene a couple hundred yards to the south, and I may have my pictures mixed up, but here is one of the pictures:

This is what I could see of the cave and the sea lions. Apparently the cave is many stories tall directly above the sea lions. I couldn’t tell.

This is a picture of the staircase to the left of the elevator within the confines of the cave. It leads to the first overlook (former entrance) referred to earlier. I got my order mixed up, and this is a picture from the overlook. The black specks are birds. Weird, huh?

On my way out of the Sea Lion Cave tourist complex and just before I got to my truck, there was a couple who were curiously conversing concerning the cost of the cave. I hollered back to them that it was eight dollars per person. They continued on for a moment, then came back and asked me if it was worth it. I told them that it was a unique experience, and that people have different opinions on things like this (for example, my sister apparently very much like it, whereas I, for the most part, did not care much one way or the other). They saw my ruse of trying politely to not say that no, it’s not worth it. They said they were going to save their money and head for some underwater aquarium in Newport. Which brings me to my next photograph, the bridge into (from the south) Newport:

There was no place to get a good angle on it, so I ended up driving through the tourist-filled town, and into a marina. I tried to frame the main span of the bridge between masts, but I’m not super-psyched about how the picture came out. Oh, well. I continued on my way.

A ways north of there I stopped at a scenic overlook, here is a picture of this place which looks over scenery:

Not much occurred between then and my next stop, which was to be exceptionally cheesy. It may be the place with the highest cheese density of any place I have ever been. It was (dramatic pause) the Tillamook Cheese Factory. See for yourself:

And the zoo aspect:

I really hope that the workers can’t see out of that room. Something about the eye contact that a couple of them kept making with me tells me that’s not the case, however. I just have to think of myself, and I’m fairly certain that I would find a continuously publicly observed work environment to be nothing more than barely tolerable. Now, a casual observation is one thing, and that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the public coming into these rooms just to look through the windows and down onto the factory workers. It would bother me. As if I were an exhibit in a zoo, hence the ‘zoo aspect,’ comment.

I had fun at the cheese factory. Well, as much fun as can be had by a roving tourist at a stationary cheese factory, anyway. I bought a two-scoop ice cream cone. The flavors were mountain blackberry and Tillamook mudslide. It was very good, and it took someone casually commenting to one of their friends about how large it was for me to realize that the comment was very much true. I just hadn’t thought about it. On the downstairs side of things, I randomly got into a line, and decided to sample all their kinds of sampleable cheese. It was a very interesting experience, my only regret is that I went so fast through all the cheeses. I think there were five kinds, one of which wasn’t so good, but it soured all the other ones when they were all in my mouth at the same time. Also, the cheese market in the factory has a whole lot of cheese. But, I somehow don’t suppose that’s much of a surprise.

From there, it wasn’t a terribly far drive to Astoria, where I saw a giant bridge over the wide part of the Columbia. Here is a picture of a part of that bridge, which is neatly framed in a road sign-posting-setup.

I stopped at a hotel that was under construction to take some more pictures of the bridge, but none of them turned out very well. Then, I got back on the road and found myself crossing the river on that very bridge. Also, I found myself back in the Evergreen State for the first time in almost seven weeks.

There was a state park near Ilwaco that I went to. It was full of campers, however, so I just decided to explore it a bit. I thought I could find the plaque designating the end of the Lewis and Clark expedition, but found no such thing. Instead, I walked really far out on a man made jetty (is that redundant? I’m not sure), and came back. Then, when I had trouble getting out of the state park, I found what looked like a headstone but turned out to actually be but a marker, marking a trailhead. It was for a trail that led to a house or hut or something that had been constructed in approximately the same location as the one that some the members of the Corps of Discovery had built and stayed in. I thought this was very similar to the fort that I’d stopped at in Illinois, but couldn’t stop and walk the trail because it was almost dark. The picture I took of the marker will verify:

After I found my way out, I drove on, into the night. Then I stopped. I stopped and took a picture. A picture of what is probably my favorite road sign. It’s the tsunami hazard zone sign.

I just look at that sign and think, ‘That little guy looks so frantic it’s comical! Plus, there’s no way he’s getting away from that wave.’

Post awesome picture, I found myself at a loss. I had to find a place to sleep, and I was getting to the point that I needed gas, as well. Fortunately, and after about an hour and a half of further driving, I happened upon the creepiest campground I’d yet stayed at. There were no lights, it was totally dark, and there was only one person there besides me. I was a little nervous, but nothing else had presented itself, plus it was in the tiniest of small towns that actually had a campground that I’d come across in some time. So, I found a parking spot, or made my own—I’m still not quite sure, took the money to the pay box, and avoided the other camper. Then, I climbed back into my truck, took off my shoes, and climbed through the back window to sleep in the back of my truck for the last time on my journey.