We found our way back to the coast to Cannon Beach, so named after a cannon that was found there in 1846. I’m assuming it was the military rather than the religious kind, but there was no more information. The Beach is spectacular, wide and very long, its 4 mile stretch punctuated by large rocks along the shoreline. Chief among the rocks is Giant Haystacks. Wasn’t there a wrestler in the 70’s called Giant Haystacks, along with Big (don’t call me Shirley) Daddy? This Haystacks is home to numerous seabirds including a colony of puffins from April until July. The beach is a great playground for walking, running, cycling, and flying kites which is particularly popular. The small adjoining town is entirely given over tourism with the usual array of gift shops, antiques, cafes, restaurants and motels. We arrived on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. (How can a day be a weekend?) The place was, if not exactly buzzing, then at least alive with holidaymakers. We walked over to Haystacks and sat on one of the washed up tree trunks to witness the sun dipping slowly over the horizon on its way to Australia. Refreshingly, there’s an absence of beach rules with no signs listing all the activities that are ‘not allowed’. Anything goes here, apparently, including lighting fires on the beach that illuminated our way back home.
The town’s population plunged after the holiday, and we found ourselves wandering the coast largely unaccompanied. We found a pretty coastal trek in the nearby Ecola state park that took us upwards through a dense forest of old growth Sitka spruce and western hemlock trees to a lookout point facing the Tillamook Rock lighthouse.
We left Cannon Beach and Oregon for Washington, entering the green state via a scenic drive North East, crossing the mighty Columbia River at Astoria over an impressive road bridge. So we’re finally in Washington, our last stop in the US before Canada. We were both looking forward to seeing Capitol Hill and the Whitehouse, but decided first to stay on the Hood Canal near the tiny town of Brinnon. The canal looks more like a mighty river at least a mile wide. In fact, its neither river or canal, but a narrow sea inlet. We splashed out and stayed at a cottage right on the water with private beach loaded with oysters and clams.
I hired us a couple of Kayaks in a moment of madness and soon we were cruising the ‘canal’ like Steve Redgrave. The water is mostly very calm here resembling a giant sheet of cling film. Needless to say, after 5 minutes on the water, the wind picked up from nowhere creating white crested waves, and we were soon swallowing sea water and frantically bailing out water with the handily supplied ‘absorbent’ sponge.
We were more fortunate on our next outing and had a wonderful hour among the spectacular scenery and wildlife. We had an inquisitive sea otter check us out, and watched as a pair of eagles fished the water nearby. We reluctantly headed back in when I noticed a strange burning sensation in my arms. Took me a while to realize that it was my muscles complaining – not been used in a while.
I had a round of golf in Oregon at the Gearhart links. I took a chance on the weather and lost, rain from start to finish so I ended up cold and soaked through which meant by the next day I’d completely seized up. You know you’re getting old when to get dressed in the morning you have to lay your undies carefully on the floor, get both feet into the two holes, and then carefully pull them up without bending. Ouch!
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