Day Two

October 9, 2013

            After breakfast at Denny’s in Tillamook (apparently Rockaway Beach does not open for breakfast on Wednesday mornings), there was no room left for Tillamook ice cream.  Oh, well. In my five years on Whidbey Island I have eaten more than my share of Tillamook ice cream already.

            So on we went, stopping at practically every scenic overview, public beach, and state park between Rockaway Beach and Newport.  The ocean beaches were beyond beautiful.  I loved the wide expanse of sand.  I loved the rocky cliffs and crags with waves splashing up as they crashed in.  I loved the huge rocks--some with trees--that sat out in the ocean waters.  I loved every sight, smell, and sound.  There is something deeply soothing about the steady roar of the waves, something almost hypnotic about the foaming white crests of waves.  I felt both awestruck and at home with the sand and surf of the Oregon Coast.

            As often is the case, we enjoyed many stops not planned and did not stop at the preplanned spots.  However, one I had planned and for which we stopped was the Alder Glass Works in Lincoln City.  Glass blowing is such a fascinating process and exquisite art.  John could not resist a small paperweight with concentric sparkling circles that seemed to lead to forever, and I could not resist a delicate ring of sterling silver with a small glass bead.  The short distance from Rockaway Beach to Newport took us close to six hours to traverse with all the lovely stops along the way.  And, once in Newport, we were ready for a late lunch and ended up at a restaurant that looked rather dingy from the outside and had a humble interior—but the food was out of this world!  John had bacon-wrapped scallops, and I had a Dungeness crab cake over steamed vegetables and a rice/wheat pilaf.

            Originally I had thought we would spend a lot of sightseeing time in Newport, but we were ready to drive then and headed east and then north on 99W to Portland.  I believe there were at least two wineries every few miles, but we stopped for none of them (a real shame, I know).  I thought of Becky T. and her mother Doris C. as we drove through McMinnville—such a pretty downtown with the trees in full color.  In Portland we spent a delightful evening with a high school classmate of mine and her husband, our former high school history teacher  (a lovely love story from her 20^th class reunion in 1991 when they met as peers rather than student and teacher.)  Patti and I had not seen each other in 40 years, so there was much to talk about!

            And now, after a full day, we are at University Place in downtown Portland ready to catch some zzz’s before we head out in the morning along Interstate 84 and the Columbia River.  Finally, east!  But I will have to include Portland and the Oregon coast on one of my visits back to Whidbey Island.  I have fallen in love with Oregon.