Traveling the Oregon Coast: Great Fun on Highway 101

"A ship on the beach is a lighthouse to the sea." - Dutch proverb

After leaving the fry bread behind at the Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow in Siletz late Saturday afternoon, we raced the sunset as we headed south on Highway 101 from Newport. Golden hour beat us to the Heceta Head Lighthouse viewpoint (which is now unfortunately closed due to construction), but we were able to capture a few images of the lighthouse from a distance, even if the conditions were not ideal.

Heceta Head Lighthouse

There was, however, one photogenic seagull that seemed to be more than happy to have his picture taken, repeatedly, with the quickly fading sunset in the background.

We drove in the dark south past Coos Bay and parked the RV for the night. In the morning we headed for the nearest beach, Seven Devils State Park, a day use area, for a front row view of the ocean to accompany our breakfast. We arrived to find the place our own private playground, with not another soul in sight.

Merchant Beach

After what some might consider “begging” by the girls (okay, honestly, it didn’t take much on their part) we headed down to the sand to play. There are actually three beaches here: Agate (Yes, there is more than one along the Oregon Coast), Merchant, and Whisky. While the girls enjoyed themselves thoroughly, I think the look on my miniature pincher’s face says it all…

My dog Sarah

There is nothing better than a morning spent running and playing on the Oregon Coast!!

Alas, all good things must come to an end eventually, and there was still much to see between our current position and our scheduled destination for the night, my uncle’s house just outside Gold Beach. Once again we headed south on Highway 101.

A camping combination you don't see every day!

Coquille River Lighthouse sits within Bullards Beach State Park, just outside of Bandon, Oregon. Decommissioned in 1939 when a wildfire swept through the area. The first major restoration began in 1976 but the Fresnel lens is no longer in place and has since been replaced with a solar light.

The lighthouse missing the lens.

One could not have asked for Mother Nature to give a better backdrop for photographing the lighthouse that day. Bright blue sky and whispy blue clouds were like a dream come true. I took countless pictures from every angle. Below are a couple of my favorites.

From there, we headed back onto the highway to quite literally have a wild time! Stay tuned!!

Plan your own visit:

Heceta Head Lighthouse 

Bullards Beach State Park

Travel Oregon: Coquille River Lighthouse

Frybread - A Love Story (Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow)

In the Chinook language Nesika Illahee means “our land” or “our country. Every year during the second weekend of August, the Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians celebrate their aptly named Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow on top of Government Hill in Siletz, Oregon.

After a former coworker, who also happens to be an enrolled member of the tribe invited me to attend 10 years ago, this has become an annual event for my family - morphing from a quick day trip my first year to now making an entire weekend of it. Not only does my husband’s family live in the area (which I found out about after I met him and this had already become a tradition for my oldest daughter and I) but I also have roots in the area through my father’s side of my family.

There are many reasons I enjoy this event so much – the beautiful wooded pow-wow grounds, the colorful costumes of the dancers, the rhythm of the drumming and the booths selling so many unique items from handmade creations to a rainbow of beads. However, there is one thing that stands out year after year – frybread!

Frybread is quite simply that – a piece of bread dough fried. Frybread entered the world during the US Government’s removal of the Navajo from their traditional lands in the mid 19^th century. Imprisoned and starving at Fort Sumner, the only provisions supplied by the government to the Navajo were lard and white flour. From these poor rations, frybread was born.

I distinctly remember the first time I ever ate fry bread. It was October, 1998. I had just spent the morning exploring the ruins of Mesa Verde National Park, one of the most incredible places I have ever had the pleasure of visiting, when my friend and I happened upon what seemed like a mirage in the desert. A little gift shop and a small stand selling fry bread. Having never tried either before, I figured what the heck. I’ll give it a shot. I was immediately smitten with the warm, soft yet crispy, pillowy creation, covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar. I feasted on three pieces that day and have been hooked ever since.

Frybread can be served a whole multitude of ways. My favorite – Indian (or also known and Navajo or Native) taco style. It is quite simply exactly what it sounds like – a piece of frybread piled high with beans, seasoned ground beef, lettuce, cheese, fresh tomatoes and salsa, though the ingredients can vary depending on who is making it.

Sweet frybread is another option. My husband calls them elephant ears, which makes me cringe every time he says it. Elephant ears are thin and crispy. Frybread is thicker and more flavorful. It can be tossed with cinnamon sugar, served plain and then slathered in jam, or even strawberry shortcake style. The options are only limited by your imagination.

The Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow in Siletz is a great event. Put it on your calendar for next year and make plans to go down and make a weekend of it. Go to the parade through town on Saturday morning, stick around until Sunday for the tribal salmon feed, and in between watch the dance contests, do a little shopping and the vendor booths, and try some frybread for yourself!! 

Getting there:

The Siletz Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow is held annually the second weekend of August, which also normally coincides with the Perseid Meteor Shower (hint – hint).

Siletz is located approximately 13 miles northeast of Newport, Oregon along the Siletz River. While there is limited camping available on Government Hill, lodging options are plentiful a short drive away in Newport.

Related Links:

Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians

City of Siletz

Picnicking at Maryhill Museum

“I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain.” – America

Every time I drive through the high deserts of the Northwest, this song always seems to pop in to my head. On this day, it really felt good to be out of the rain, too. The sunshine was bright, the sky deep blue, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the sky.

We crossed the Columbia on the toll bridge at Hood River, our next destination thus far being a complete mystery to all in the car but me. As soon as I took the right turn to Highway 14 on the Washington side of the river, it became pretty apparent where we were going.

My friend, Kerri: “Are we going to Maryhill?”

“Yes we are!”

The kids, almost in symphony from the back seat: “What is Maryhill? Is that where we are going for our picnic?”

“Yes we are.”

Maryhill Museum

After about a 45-minute drive along the river and past some gorgeous river landscapes, small towns, farms and wineries, we arrived at the Maryhill Museum of Art. The museum and grounds sit atop a cliff overlooking the Columbia. Originally built to be a mansion for Sam Hill, he was convinced by his friend, Queen Marie of Romania, to turn the building into an art museum instead.

Mt. Hood from the Museum Steps

Rose in the museum's garden.

The museum grounds make the perfect spot for a picnic: large picnic tables, lush green grass, plenty of shade trees and a million dollar view of the gorge and windmills on the surrounding hills. However, one must watch out for the peacocks. They are quite insistent on being fed and really don’t take no for an answer. This flock seemed particularly gentle, though peacocks do have a reputation for being a bit aggressive at times, one in particular sat and begged like a dog for another bite of food. 

Snacking peacock

When asked later, all three girls stated that the peacocks were the highlight of their day. They screamed when the peacocks chased them, but mere moments later would whisper to each other and then be back in their midst once again. They became particularly fond of one male in particular, and named him Aqua. Fortunately, I did not need to convince the girls that peacocks do not make good house pets, otherwise they would have tried smuggling one home in the car with us.

Aqua the begging peacock

Girls enjoying the picnic

The grounds of the museum also features an outdoor sculpture collection, one of which my youngest mistook for a piece of playground equipment. Well, maybe there was more than one. Luckily, the sculptures you are not supposed to touch are very clearly marked, but others are just begging to be touched.

She probably shouldn't be up there.

Lily sculpture

 

While the shade of the trees and the breeze was wonderful, it was still a hot day (NOT COMPLAINING) and almost 5:00 when the museum grounds close, and we were all in need of something ice cold to drink. We opted to cross the river to Biggs on the Oregon side for “provisions” and then continue towards home along I-84. 

The view down to Biggs.

The closer we got to home, the greener the scenery became and the cooler the air. We all agreed one last stop at Wahkeena Falls was in order. We ended our adventure in one of my favorite ways: sitting listening to the waterfall and cooling my feet in the creek.

It was a good day indeed!

Visiting Maryhill and the surrounding area:

Maryhill Winery

Maryhill Museum of Art

Stonehenge Memorial

Related Blog Post:

Where in the Sam Hill am I?

An Afternoon at the White House

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon

Summer may have finally arrived in the Pacific Northwest, after several false starts. I don't think there is a better time for Mother Nature to grace us with her sunshine and warm temperatures than a long, holiday weekend, which is just what she did.

I haven't had much downtime the past few weeks, between participating in the St. John's Outdoor Community Market, and shuttling children around the state to visit grandparents, I have been overdue for a break, and some time to just have fun. A trip east through "The Gorge" is always a fine way to recharge my batteries, and I invited Kerri, my partner in crime when it comes to the craft show/outdoor market business, along for the ride, since she deserved the break as much as I did. My oldest daughter, Sage, also invited her friend Danielle along.

My original plan had been to head to Hood River Lavender first. The farm is absolutely stunning, with views of both Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams, and I don't think there is anything more beautiful than a huge field of lavender in full bloom. However, our plans were thwarted. The farm was rented out for a special event and therefore closed to the public for the day. I had to come up with a new plan of action for the Hood River portion of our adventure.

The Gorge White House  stands next to the highway like a grand dame. It is a stunning Dutch Colonial house, surrounded by orchards and gardens. It is one of my favorite "pit stops" along highway 35, when either touring the Fruit Loop or following the Mt. Hood Scenic Byway around the mountain. Besides the obvious draws of wine-tasting and the gift shop, they also offer some unique "U-Pick" opportunities in the gardens behind the house.

The view of Mt. Adams and orchards at the Gorge White House.

Normally by this time of year, the u-pick flower garden is brimming with flowers, but due to the soggy and cool Spring, they are still running a little behind. However, there were many stunning Asiatic lilies just starting to emerge and I fully expect within a few weeks they will be joined by many other beautiful blooms.

Asiatic lily in the gardens

Irises

The strawberry field, however, was prime for the picking. The girls (and Kerri) had a fine time picking a bucket of berries. I would have joined in myself, but I have PTSD from working the berry fields in Sandy one summer when I was 12. I have never felt the same about strawberries again and I gained a special appreciation for migrant farm workers at the same time.

Odessa picking strawberries

I digress. The girls fully enjoyed the experience. In fact, I practically had to drag them out of the strawberry field, kicking and screaming. The berries, while very small, were sweet and tasty. In my opinion, nothing is better than a fresh, Oregon strawberry. Even the farmer's market doesn't have them quite this fresh.

Sage and Danielle with their berries.

Strawberry stained hands

By this time, the girls (and us adults for that matter) needed a little more sustenance than a couple handfuls of fresh berries. So, it was time to load up the car and head to our next destination for a picnic lunch, Maryhill Museum.

Stay tuned!

Plan your visit to Hood River:

Travel Oregon

Hood River Fruit Loop

Hood River Lavender Farm

The Gorge White House

Mt. Hood Scenic Byway

Nature's Work of Art: The Painted Hills of Oregon

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.” 
 - Alice Walker

For the whole trip, we had only pre-planned one portion of the entire itinerary, other than breakfast in Mitchell, and that was to visit The Painted Hills Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. After that, the rest of our trip would be wherever the road and our whimsy happened to take us.

Map courtesy of ODOT

I first heard about the Painted Hills a couple of years ago. A relative posted some pictures on Facebook from a visit his family made there, and not only could I not believe I had never heard of this place, but, I instantly, absolutely, had to go there. Turns out, I am not the only one who had not heard of it. When I told people where I was going, they had either never heard of them, or they only had some sort of vague recollection of hearing about them. In my opinion, they are a hidden treasure, and it is a shame more people don’t make the journey out there to see such a natural wonder.

Painted Hills from Overlook

This was our second visit to the area. We visited a couple of years ago shortly after I “discovered” them, while my niece was visiting from San Diego. Unfortunately, on that trip, my old point-and-shoot camera was damaged in an unfortunate fossil-digging accident, so I had no “decent” pictures of the place. I have just been waiting for a good excuse to go back--especially after getting my “new” camera.

My girls enjoying the view from the overlook

The Painted Hills are a place that no matter how many times you have seen them, they will always inspire awe and wonder. Words and pictures don’t seem to do them justice, especially when you are standing in front of them. Looking down at the combination of colors nature has put together over thousands of years is something that is best done in person. Each hill is a little different from the others: blacks, reds, golds, purples, whites and greens. It's like a painter’s palate where all the colors have been smeared together by water and wind.

(And so ends my attempt at poetry.)

We spent a fair amount of time at the “main” overlook, at the largest grouping and most photographed hills of the unit. We were lucky that the rain we had complained about on our drive the afternoon before had actually cleared the air and made the colors even more vibrant. Plus, the wildflowers were blooming--something that had been missing on our previous visit. The only thing that was lacking was some bright, blue sky, but after the spring we have had in Oregon, you take what you can get.

Sage, Sagebrush and my dog Sara.

Our next stop was the “Painted Cove” trailhead. I hesitate to call this hiking at all. I don’t think the loop here is maybe half a mile, if that. However, this trail does have something that none other has: I do believe this is the closest I will ever get to walking on Mars.

Painted Cove Trail

When you round the corner on the faux wood boardwalk trail, surrounded by the cracked, red soil of the hills, you honestly feel like you are on another planet. Both Sage and I joked about a Martian popping up around the corner.

 

Close up of hill surface

My aspiring photographer

Alas, there was only one very camera-shy lizard waiting for us.

After a little more exploring, we hopped back in the RV to go drive “The Loop” that Gravy Lady had mentioned to us earlier over breakfast, anxious to see what else the road would offer today.

Visiting the Painted Hills

Below are some great websites for planning your own visit to the Painted Hills:

Travel Oregon  

National Park Service: John Day Fossil Beds National Monument 

Oregon Paleo Lands Institute 

Mitchell, Oregon

Mother's Day in Hell(s Canyon)

An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.  -Spanish Proverb

We awoke and our suspicions from the night before had confirmed. We had managed to drive all the way from Portland to the Idaho border, completely on secondary roads. Our home for the night had been the Copperfield Campground on the banks of the Snake River. Yes, we were officially in Hell’s Canyon.

The entire family, dog included, at Hell's Canyon.

While enjoying the view of the river and some nice hot coffee (hot chocolate for the kiddos) we met a nice couple in the next campsite, the Coons from Weiser, Idaho. (I am not sure, it may be my juvenile sense of humor, but I found their last name, along with where they were from, completely hilarious. I managed not to convey this to them.) They spend a lot of time in the canyon, and were able to provide us with tons of tips on the area. Unfortunately, a lot of the high country was still buried in snow, so all of our sightseeing had to be done from the road that runs from the campground to Hell’s River Dam.

This is a windy road with lots of hills, and you have to watch out for falling rocks. There were a lot of rocks in the road. Not necessarily a road I would recommend in a monster motorhome, but we were getting a very early start and as it was off-season for the area, we passed very few cars.

Everyone knows my love for the Columbia River Gorge. That is no secret. As I have said before, I spend so much time there, I consider it my second home. In fact, there is a little house in Bridal Veil, should I ever win the lottery, that will become my real home. However, my first impression as we drove into the canyon was, the Columbia River Gorge has nothing on this place.

The light was bad for picture taking but beautiful none the less.

Maybe it was the rainstorm the night before, coupled with how early in the year we are visiting, but this was not the dry, desolate place I have always thought it to be. Clouds were moving through, waterfalls dotting the walls here and there, green and lush, much like my beloved basalt cliffs at home. This was much more dramatic. The canyon walls much steeper, the river more narrow and moving faster than the lazy Columbia. In fact, I envisioned this is what the Gorge must have looked a lot like before they dammed and tamed it.

Hell's Canyon Dam

After we got to the point we could go no further down the road in our behemoth, the man lamented he had not seen one mountain goat. (He had been looking for them the entire time.) This must have been the summoning words, because sure enough, it was at that point we looked up and saw one. Sage thought they looked more like polar bears with horns.

Can you see the mountain goat?

At this point, we realized that at some point we were going to have to start heading towards home. We had better start heading that way, because we had a long way to go. So onto the road and back towards Baker City we went.

We did take time to stop at the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center in Baker City. This is a great stop if you are interested in learning the history of the Oregon Trail, or if you want to see in real life what inspired that old computer game you played so much in elementary school. (Please don’t tell me I was the only one?)

My main reason for wanting to stop here is to see the section of wagon wheel ruts that have been preserved here. Unfortunately, it was an almost two hour round trip hike down to see them. We just didn’t have the time to do this since we wanted to get home before midnight, so I was so disappointed when we made the decision to skip it. However, upon exiting the museum, I learned that they could actually be accessed from the road, and only a short walk would be required.

So, as silly as it sounds, I have always wanted to see the actual wheel ruts ever since I played that silly game in elementary school, shooting deer with the space bar, and I finally got my chance. Overall, to look at they were fairly unimpressive. In fact, they didn’t look much different from the many truck tracks we saw encircling ranches on our journey, just more overgrown with sagebrush. However, standing there, imagining the thousands of wagons that passed by, filled with the hopes and dreams of so many settlers, it was hard not to be effected.

Oregon Trail Wagon Wheel Ruts

From there, we headed straight for the interstate. Like the pioneers, we just wanted to get home and settle in, beginning to get weary from our journey. Traveling along I-84 home, as we passed exit after exit, I marveled at how much we had seen back there off the freeway and wondered how many other people zoomed right on by not even knowing how much they were missing.

The view from Cabbage Hill, just outside Pendleton

As we entered the Columbia River Gorge, just after sunset, I made a silent apology for my newfound love of Hell’s Canyon and even trying to compare the two places. Now, as we were driving past my beloved hiking grounds,  I was hit with the relief, that even after such a wonderful trip, with so many things new to my eyes, that my little family and I were finally home.