Camping on the Coast

So I made it to another coast! Well, actually, it's still the same coast, but another area- I'm in Oregon! Monday night my dad, "his friend" Barb (Aren't you past the "friend" stage when you have a house together?), and I went camping on the coast. This is one of my favorite activities to do in Oregon because it combines three of my favorite things: the coast, camping, which I really enjoy, but do very infrequently, and marshmallows, which I experience a lot more often than camping.

Our usual camping spot is the Tillicum campground a little south of Waldport. It is not a state park, but part of the national forest camp community, in case anyone reading is interested in the classifications of campgrounds. It's not one of those campgrounds that is just parking spot upon parking spot with a little picnic table and a plug for a massive RV. At Tillicum, each site has enough room that if you need to get up and relieve yourself in the middle of the night, you can do it in the privacy of your own grounds without being on someone's doorstep. That's not the main reason we choose this campground, but it is a perk. We're out in the wilderness, acting as one with nature and the animals, right?

Anyway, we stayed for one night and actually had beautiful weather. At one point while roasting marshmallows, I stepped out of the site for a minute to look up through a break in the trees and was awestruck by the stars. Oregon is known for its constant cloud cover and mist, with the coast trying to best the rest of the state by adding wind to the usual climate. That night, however, it was so calm and clear, I could see the outline of every little star winking down on us. It was one of those moments that caused me to wonder what was on the other side of that huge blue blanket covering the earth. Seeing something so vastly unknown and out of our grasp is pretty refreshing in a world that seems to be shrinking at an increasing rate.

The next morning proved to be just as clear as the previous night had been. I crawled out of my tent to clear skies and the sun trying to poke its way through the trees. The ocean was a beautiful Caribbean aqua and if it wasn't for the 60 degree temperature, I might have thought I was back in Cuba! If Robert had been there, he probably would have wished he had brought his surfboard (and a wet suit, of course). The waves were moderate and clean, not that I know what I'm talking about, but the lack of wind made for a beautiful coastal setting.

After a delicious breakfast of coffee, bacon, omelets, and of course, bagels, prepared excellently by Chef Bob, we all went for a walk on the beach. On our beach scavenger hunt we found a sand castle fit for the Hugh Hefner of sea creatures, complete with moat and grotto, a few starfish, some washed up jellyfish, a sea lion (are they following me?) and a bunch of little sand crabs that scuttled into the sand with the last of the receding tide.

I also noticed that sea gulls on the Oregon coast seem to take after their human counterparts as far as diet (Oregon is consistently rated the fastest state west of the Rockies, although not to be too harsh, there aren't that many states to choose from.) Oregon gulls are very robust and well fed, probably due to their diet of delicious crab. They scour the shallow waters for crabs and when the time is right, they dive, snatch them by the claw, drag them up to the sand and pull them apart with their beaks until the crabs can no longer run away from them. It's equally as disturbing as it is fascinating. And really, I can't blame the gulls because they get to eat crab all day! Delicious! If I had a beak and better eyesight, I would do the same. So we came across a sea gull that had nabbed a monster crab and was trying to eat his meal while also guarding all the dismembered parts from the other gulls. Of course my dad being the Republican that he is, he wanted to step in and distract the gull who caught the crab so that all the other gulls could get a fair share of his catch. Oh wait, that's not how capitalism works, is it, Dad?

After we all enjoyed a good read and snooze on the beach, we ended our trip having clam chowder and a locally brewed Rogue at Mo's. Dessert at the local candy store and we were on our way back to the valley.

Sailing and Sea Lions in San Francisco

Blogging is a lot more difficult than I would have expected. Well, the writing part isn't difficult, but organizing and making the layout and deciding on the settings is a challenge for me! I've just spent the last three hours at the computer trying different things out, editing photos, and trying to figure out computer coding just to put captions on pictures (obviously I gave that one up). I never would have thought I would be trying to work out computer codes, but I'm determined to give it another try. My dad, whose computer I've hijacked for the afternoon, is probably expecting the outcome to be a lot more impressive than it is! Oh well, what else is an unemployed college grad to do?

I spent the last week in San Francisco enjoying the beginning of fall, which in San Francisco is actually like the middle of summer. When I was there in June, it was in the 50s and 60s while Charleston was already in the 90s, but this past week, San Francisco was as nice as any east coast city, but without the humidity.

Robert has learned how to sail in the past few months so we went out on a boat in the harbor a few times. I've discovered that there's no better way to see a city than from the water! Even in a usual layer of fog, San Fran looked gorgeous. Of course we also got to see a lot of sea lions and have nice conversations with them ("urt! urt! urt!"). I think I've perfected my sea lion-ese. Of course Robert's been practicing since he was really little, seeing as how he will someday be born again, or just transformed, into a sea lion. So obviously he's much better than I am.

Auntie Mary and Uncle Tom and I went down to Half Moon Bay for an afternoon and spent a few hours walking through a marina just watching all the activity. We found a dock on which a group of sea lions (see the common animal theme in San Francisco?) had taken over the entire place and were playing king of the mountain to gain the most space in the sun. Every time one of them would move, the others would protest in loud screeching barks, nosing each other and clumsily batting at one another with their flippers. They were only willing to give up their sunny spot when a huge school of fish came through the marina, causing every pelican, gull, and swimming creature in the town to take advantage of their "safety in numbers" and feast. Poor fish never stood a chance.

On Thursday, we all went into the city for a regatta that promised big boats and lots of activity. As a new sailor, Robert was really excited to see the boats heeled over, waves splashing over the sides and sails ballooning with wind, but Mary kept asking where the big ones were. We heard "big boats" and were expecting something Christopher Columbus would be taking across the ocean. Apparently to people who actually know boats, "big" is a 40+ foot boat with a couple of huge sails. They're nice to look at, but I'd rather have the Pinta or the Santa Maria any day.

After a few races, we retreated to North Beach for an afternoon beer and crossword puzzle. Perfect, as far as I'm concerned.

The Beginning of Blogging

I owe my inspiration to start a blog to Tess, my college roommate and adventurous traveler (so you can either thank or blame her). We both graduated from the College of Charleston in May and she, almost immediately, took off for Oz and is now recording her adventures on a blog. So in a few weeks time my brother, Davey, and I will be starting our own adventures in Costa Rica. As a Spanish and communications major, I figure I have some skills that might help us down there, and of course, we're escaping our college diplomas that are now taunting us from overly expensive frames on our walls. Every morning The New York Times tells me the job market isn't good and it's getting worse so instead of waiting around, we're escaping.

I lived in Charleston for four years of college, enough time for me to fall in love with city's southern charm. I had great friends in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, interesting college classes and a close proximity to bars. But in August my lease ran up, Kendall headed home, Tess left for Australia, and I stayed with my friend, Larrissa, sleeping in a G.I. Joe tent on her spare bed, while I worked to make some more cash before becoming officially jobless.

After a few weeks, I packed my life's possessions (three suitcases of clothes, a bag of shoes, three boxes of books, one box of (unused) cookbooks and kitchen supplies, a coffee maker, and a blender) and headed west, well, south, and then west.

I drove down to Bluffton, South Carolina and stayed with Kendall, my first college friend and future doctor, and stayed for two days. We went to her local farmer's market and loaded up on local peaches and scuppernones, variably spelled. Apparently scuppernones are a local grape, kind of like a muscodine, that grown in the southeast, or at least in Georgia. They have a tough, whitish skin, that you split open by pressing the grape between your tongue and the roof of your mouth, which gives way to the meat, kind of the texture of a peach. They're delicious, but watch out for the little seeds!

Next I went on to Atlanta. I stopped in Pooler, Georgia, first, though, to have lunch with Ruthie, a mom of a friend of a friend, long story, but afterwards, I went to Grego's drive-through liquor store off I95. If you're ever in that area, you have to stop and go through because a drive-through liquor store is something you can't miss! With some housewarming gifts of Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka added to my collection of traveling companions, I made my way to Atlanta (with armadillos on the side of the highway! In Georgia?!). I stayed with Cindy, another friend from college, and we enjoyed the beautiful bars of Buckhead as well as the Atlanta Farmer's Market where we tried aloe juice! My brothers and I have a long running joke about aloe, courtesy of the 80's surf movie The North Shore. The juice is actually pretty good, but the pulp is strange and kind of chewy. Does anyone remember the drink with jello bubbles in it, called Orbits, or something like that? Well, the pulp is like the jello bubbles.

So after that I made my up to Nashville to stay with Kate, my oldest friend in the world, or most long standing, she's only 22. I've never been to Tennessee and was so surprised at how pretty it was! We spent the night drinking sweet tea vodka, sneaking into graveyards, and catching up, of course. The next morning before I left, we went to Cracker Barrel. Kate is a lifelong Oregonian just recently transplanted to the south. Once we sat down and she looked over the menu, she looked up and said, "What are grits?" Now, I didn't know what grits were until I came to school in the south, but now that I know, I can't imagine life without grits, and that's not necessarily a good thing. For anyone who doesn't know, they're made of corn, I think, and are ground up into a Cream of Wheat look-a-like. The only way to really describe them is that they are... gritty. At best, you can put cheese on them, or just butter and salt. If you have to eat grits, though, the best way is with thick, creamy grits, laden with shrimp. Mmm... delicious.

Full with country fried breakfast, I got on the road for a long day of driving through western Tennessee and Arkansas. I reached Arkansas around sunset and was shocked at how pretty it is. Arkansas is one of those lost states that people forget when naming all the states. It's never a travel destination, or even a retirement destination, surprising since people seem to pick the quietest, flattest, places to retire in.

I ended in Corpus Christi, where my mom currently lives and works for the Red Cross. Corpus Christi is a weird little city that seems like it was once a popular destination for a lot more people than it ever sees now. There are big buildings and miles of coast, but no one in sight. We visited Mustang Island and South Padre as well and ate our hearts out on sights of white sand beaches and oil rigs.
After a few days I abandoned car travel for plane travel and flew to San Francisco to meet up with the rest of my family. It's a little more scenic here than the plains of southern Texas, but also a little cooler.