Fifty Degrees Cooler
Thank heavens for the Oregon Coast. When temps hit 106 degrees F in Portland midweek last week, I was not here. I fled to Newport on the central Oregon coast, where it was 59 degrees when I arrived and shrouded in thick, wet sea mist/fog. Newport is only 140 miles from Portland, and, yet, what a difference--almost 50 degrees cooler and no skin searing, brain-broiling sun in sight. I felt like I was in a different country--Scotland maybe, but without the haggis.
I arrived at around 1:00 PM and my first stop was the Arctic Circle.* While not exactly "arctic," I did have to put on my fleece jacket to walk from the parking lot into the restaurant.
I then headed to super-duper foggy Yaquina Head lighthouse and wandered around Yaquina Head and the amazingly attractive basalt cobble beach there. There's something about the sound of the ocean combined with the squawks of massive numbers of murres and seagulls that just completely wipes out any cares or worries or new job jitters.
Anyway, I had a wonderful time, and ended up staying a day and a half longer than originally planned. Really, I had no real reason to return to Portland, which was still unbearably hot. I wandered beaches, drank iced lattes, poked around some rather bizarre seaside shops, got called "hon" numerous times by a waitress who was young enough to be my daughter, watched sea lions cavort, and I even made a new friend who agrees with me that Alan Rickman is hot and Brad Pitt is not and who knew the best place to eat in Newport, and where we had a fantastic meal. All in all, a great "last hurrah" before starting the new job. Photo journal here, if you're interested.
*Yeah, I know. Who goes for a fast-food burger when on the Coast? I can't exactly explain it, but I was just in the mood for that type of burger at that particular moment. I did not partake of the gross fry sauce, though. Ick.