Highway 101

After dropping the car off at the Eugene Airport, Danny called. We found each other using Craigslist Rideshare. He was moving from Portland to Santa Cruz, California for a new job and was looking for someone to keep him company; I was trying to get to Berkeley. We spoke for a few minutes and he explained that he wanted to stop for hiking and exploring along the way. We would camp in his truck for at least one night. Perfect!

A few minutes later, Holly and her husband, Paul, arrived to pick me up with their new, tiny, little baby in tow - something like 10 days old!

With Holly being a new mom, and me being totally exhausted from nonstop moving and annoying bouts of insomnia, the only thing I really remember was watching Hunger Games and cuddling with her dog.

The next afternoon, Danny arrived.

This guy shows up at the door with his RayBan glasses, mop-top haircut, and a fringe leather jacket. We are about to travel for two or three days together (and he is my second Craigslist Rideshare experience). Honestly, I was wondering what I got myself into and not sure what to think about this 26-year-old dude who looks like he has traveled straight out the sixties to pick me up. I am hopeful that I will, at the very least, get a good story out of it.

We get to his truck, which is parked a couple of blocks away, and I become suspicious. My first thought, of course, is that he has parked his car out of view of my friend's house and he is going to murder me right now. I was not thinking about how he was towing a trailer and parking is not that easy on her street.

Either way, I voluntarily get into his 1989 Ford F150 and we begin our journey, heading due west to Highway 101 - the scenic route.

I feel some relief as he tells me that he has to call his parents back in Staten Island to let them know he picked me up and we were leaving Eugene now. I could hear his father on the phone. He asked him something about making sure to stop by a commune somewhere.

As we drive along, I get to learn about my driver. Danny was a "Socialist Jew from Staten Island". He referred to himself as such multiple times, while chain-smoking cigarettes and talking passionately about politics, music, mental illness, and society.

He told me about a radio show, or PodCast or something, that he hosts. I forget if it was about music or politics, but most likely it was a combination of both.

Danny and I both love Folk Rock, so choosing the music for our trip was an easy compromise and mostly involved playing albums that we had a strong love for and then introducing each other to new artists we hadn't yet heard. Lucky for you, I forgot to write down any of the new bands that he introduced me to.

We started the trip with Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde followed by Cat Stevens, and then Joni Mitchell. The rest is a blur. But it was perfect. All of it. I made sure to pretend that I was existing in the sixties for the entire trip. But once I turned my phone off, there was no real way to tell the difference! I could pretend we were playing 8-tracks!

I loved being in this big, old truck with this vintage dude listening to the tunes out of the original speakers (playing from his Smart Phone) while driving along the breathtaking Oregon Coast. My heart feels so alive just reliving this. I can't even!

Part of the agreement to take this trip together, was that we would stop and explore when we felt so inclined.

We were somewhere near the Southern Oregon Coast when we saw these amazing mountains and decided to stop. Even though it was overgrown, we found a trail that we could hike down to these beauties. I don't need to tell you anymore. The photos will do that for me. 

For the complete experience, I recommend playing this song while you scroll:

The Three Sisters

Danny walking ahead of me on the trail.

Am I in the United States or Middle Earth?

I found a Hobbit!

Middle Earth

If you are still wondering why I want to move to Oregon, do I need to say more?

We drove for a couple more hours before finding a State Park on the Coast to sleep. We ate granola bars and talked about life - one of my favorite conversations. He went to sleep in the bed of the truck, and I slept in the cab. 

We were on the road the next morning by 7:30am - after he called his parents on the East Coast again to let them know. It did not take too long before we crossed the California border. We decided it was okay to take our pictures for both states. (The pictures of me in front of the California sign were blurry.)

We kept on driving and listening to good music. We drove and made stops when we wanted to look at the land. There's nothing more to say about the drive, really, so I'll just let you look at the pictures.

Redwood Country

Chelsea and a Tree

The first elk that Danny had ever seen in his life! Right here!

One of those places that sells... stuff.

Army of Peacocks

Sasquatch or Big Foot?

We arrived in Berkeley just before the sunset on the second day. I thanked Danny for the adventure and with that, my new friend, the Socialist Jew from Staten Island, continued on his way to Santa Cruz to begin his new job in the morning. 

Moments before Danny drove off into the sunset.

View of Berkeley at Sunset

Exploring Oregon's Northern Coast

Heading south away from Astoria, I crossed the long bridge that separates it from the next town over. I had no schedule. I was completely free to do whatever I wanted right now. This kind of moment is what I had in mind.

The first stop was Fort Stevens State Park. I wandered around the park for a few hours, taking it all in. Fort Stevens is the only military fort in the entire United States that has been fired upon during wartime by an enemy since 1812 when it was attacked by a Japanese submarine in 1942! (I read that on the website, so if you didn't click the link above, I wanted you to know.)

Beaches at Fort Stevens State Park.

After that, I made my way to Gearhart. As I was walking through the dunes to get to the beach, a man and his dog walked by me. We acknowledged each other and I didn't think anything of it. 

The dunes here reminded me of the ones back home in New Jersey, except there are mountains on the horizon. In New Jersey, the ocean is flat forever. When I was young, I used to strain my eyes as hard as possible trying to see Europe. Turns out, you can't see Europe from New Jersey.

Gearhart, Oregon

Gearhart.

#Selfie

After Gearhart, I went through Seaside and Ecola State Park until I got to Cannon Beach. This is that famous one. Most of you enjoy referencing The Goonies. Go on, say it: "GOONIES NEVER SAY DIE!"

I have been to Cannon Beach once before in 2011 when I visited Oregon for the very first time. I decided to hang around and take photos. A lot of them. And since I have been told by at least two people that you only look at the pictures on here, this is for you. Jerks.

Cannon Beach, Oregon

Tiny little bird. Big ole rocks!

Creeping on other people's lives for a spot of color.

Goonies never say die!

#Selfie

I have about 3,000 more pictures of this place. (Selfless plug: If you want to buy any, let me know! It'll look great in a room, right?)

Back when I was on the Amtrak a week or so ago, hanging out with my new photographer friend, he told me that it was okay to ask people to take your picture. This seems awkward, but because I was alone, I would like to be in a picture every once in a while so you believe I was there and not stealing someone else's stock photos. That would be a weird thing to do.

I saw a man with a big camera taking pictures, like me. I asked if he wouldn't mind.

I was really there! This is not Photoshopped!

He asked if I was staying for the sunset. It was probably two hours or so away. "It's going to be a good one!" he said. 

I thought I was going to leave. But I was already here and I didn't know when or if I'd be coming back. And it was going to be a good one! So, I decided to take off my shoes and wander around the beach, taking 8 million more pictures. Live in the moment and ignore the imaginary feeling of having to be somewhere else. You are supposed to be right here! Say "Yes!"

I'm pretty sure the elves live here.

Goodbye, Sun.

Hello, Beautiful.

While waiting for the sun to set, the temperature was dropping. My feet were freezing. I could barely feel them by the time it was down. I felt like I was balancing on stumps and it was painful. 

In Oregon, unlike New Jersey, you can have fires on the beach. I saw a couple having a fire so I walked over and asked if they would mind if I tried to warm my feet before going back to my car.

They were clearly having a romantic evening, drinking white wine by this fire, on this beautiful beach. Instead of feeling like I was imposing, I would just pretend that I was invited, because my feet were cold and they said they didn't mind. 

I told them I was driving south towards Eugene. They told me that the roads are too dark and winding. I should stay and leave in the morning.

Eventually my feet were warm enough and I started walking back to the car. On my way, I passed a condo where two men were sitting on the balcony. One of them yelled down to me, "Hey! I saw you earlier in Gearhart when I was walking my dog!" 

Remember that?! Isn't that crazy?!?!

I stopped and stared at him for a second, said something useless, and then kept walking. I immediately regretted not trying to make friends! I am pretty sure that I was supposed to! And now I will NEVER know the meaning of that! The regrets we have to live with! It was too awkward to take five steps backwards now!

I ended up deciding to rent a room before all of the offices closed for the night. A man in his forties or fifties was at the desk, I'm actually no good at guessing ages. He told me he spent a lot of time traveling the United States and living abroad alone but he came back to run the business for his parents.

He gave me a gigantic condo with two rooms, a full kitchen, fireplace, balcony, and a jacuzzi overlooking the ocean for a low price under the condition I am definitely alone. (This definitely sounds creepier than it was. It was not creepy.)

I said, "I wish I wasn't." Even though I truly love the freedom of traveling alone, sometimes, it would just be nice to have someone to make decisions with. Stay or go?

After that was settled, I walked over to the grocery store to pick up a few things. I was trying to choose a mini bottle of red wine that I could enjoy in the Jacuzzi overlooking the full moon-lit beach when my phone rang. To my delight, it displayed the name of another Oregon friend! He says that he will be passing Cannon Beach shortly on his way home so he will stop by to see me.

I wandered back down to the beach and see that my third-wheel-date from earlier had left their fire, abandoned, and still full of fuel.

Israel meets me there, under the full moon, next to the bonfire. He sits down and we talk for hours until the fire burns low with our feet buried in the warmed sand.

Israel is a talented singer, songwriter, artist, and frontman for Blind Pilot. He is a good-natured person who speaks with so much thought and intention, conversations with him are nothing short of enlightening. The time passes easily while engaging with him as he shares his ideas, perspectives, and stories.

After hours by the fire and having conversations about everything, he says that he needs to go but we can meet for breakfast before I head out in the morning.

Take a minute to watch this video as Israel performs one of my favorite songs with his band. He is so very talented.


Blind Pilot :: '3 Rounds and a Sound' via @liveset from Blind Pilot on Vimeo.

The next day, we meet for breakfast at some adorable, little-town cafe.

During breakfast, he asked me if I trust people with blue eyes more than I trust people with brown eyes. I never really thought of this before, but now that he mentions it, when I meet someone with the same blue eyes as me (of the bright variety), I want to maintain intense eye contact with them and kind of say, telepathically, "Hey, I've got 'em too!"

In the past I've noticed while working and living on boats, that the majority of these people, which I like to affectionately refer as "Boat People", have the same bright blue eyes. I asked a coworker in 2007 if he noticed how we all had the same eyes on the boats. He said something like, "It's because we have the ocean in us." I like that idea.

Anyway, I feel the same way when I encounter someone who is left-handed. And if they are blue-eyed AND left-handed, forget it! We can read each other's minds!

He also told me that in Iceland, highways are diverted for elves! It's true!

After breakfast, we said farewell and I left the Oregon Coast without using a GPS, because I am really brave.