Each summer two of our sons rent a big house for several days of fun on the Pacific Coast in Lincoln City, Oregon. They invite us to join their annual reunion. This year we decided we should make the trip. I wanted to spend the weekend by ourselves in Oregon before joining the others: four adults, three teenagers and one twelve-year-old. I thought the town of Florence sounded like a good place to visit, once I researched it. Florence, Oregon is close to the Pacific on the Siuslaw River where massive, yellow-brown dunes shift in the wind on their way to the ocean.
Florence offers an abundance of attributes. The fog blankets the town in the morning. From our balcony we could see the river, the art déco bridge (built in 1936), the dunes, the pelicans, and other birds of the area. Art galleries, gift shops, and food for foodies rank high on my list to visit on their four block downtown area.
Ted and I spent one night with our family in Portland, Oregon. The next day we drove to Florence, Oregon for our special weekend. A new friend invited me to read from Gift of the Suitcase for an Open Mic experience at an art gallery to help the group celebrate Bastille Day.
I met fascinating people: a lawyer who writes political satire, a fitness instructor who writes books about exercise, a teacher who shared a fabulous essay about smoking, and the dynamic, former editor/publisher/writer, who teaches, writes, and coordinates cultural events.
We left Florence as the fog lifted from the bridge, taking about four hours to drive seventy-four miles on Highway 101 to Lincoln City. Cliffs, beaches, rolling ocean waves with the sun glinting on the water on the west side forced us to stop for photos. We detoured up a hill to a Visitors Center for more photos and to read about the wildlife and fauna of the area. The mountains loomed purplish-blue in the distance behind the massive pine trees surrounding the center.
In Newport we found “the only wooden lighthouse in the US with stunning views overlooking the park. Yaquina Head Lighthouse was worth facing the crowds rooming the grounds and house. The structure was built in 1873 to protect the coast and its sailors, a “must-see” for people who like light houses. We found a delightful restaurant on Highway 101 for clam chowder and salads. Pies were a specialty, but we were full as a Texas tick with chowder. We avoided the traffic and tourists in the popular restaurant row in Newport.
After checking into our motel in Lincoln City we walked along the beach. Our hotel encroaches the beach and has electric fireplaces in each room. Unfortunately, the place needs updates. The shower might be adequate for turtles with the thin carpet installed in the Dark Ages. But, the location fit our needs.
Breakfasts were not included but a little refrigerator kept us from purchasing breakfast daily. We tried one nearby restaurant, which came with a story of the latest owner, son of the previous owner who died unexpectedly. The new owner loves to make “Mom’s” biscuits.
Our family had already arrived in Lincoln City. Lively conversations and tasty gourmet food gave us time to reminisce since we live far from each other.
“Mom, it’s your turn again. Use the paddle harder.” Laughter rang as the kids played against the adults in several games. I had not played foos ball in many years.
Watching the cousins connect brought me pure joy. The smokey fire pit warmed our hearts and hands. I don’t think the adults used the hot tub but the teenagers loved it. The view at their place and ours offered magical sunsets of graceful and gorgeous hues. With the walk between the two locations of seven-tenth of a mile, I put many miles on my tennis shoes.
The weather never rose above 68 degrees. Major fun: bowling, playing card games, eating s’mores, beach time, dune climbing, and antiquing. I found a paperweight that needed a home in Sachse.
Memories were made. We had a wonderful vacation, and escaped the heat of Texas for a week.