My next stop on the trip was one I would have made anyway, just for the sheer natural beauty. But what really happened is that I let my inner movie geek take over. Recognize that location?
Ah, Cannon Beach. Home of the iconic Haystack Rock and filming location for a whole host of movies. I would have loved to stay longer, but the only thing likely to roll in that morning wasn’t a pirate ship—
—it was another storm.
I finally managed to tear my eyes from the ominous horizon—less gaping, more fleeing!—but as I turned to walk back to the car, I happened to glance northward:
The moment was more like an instant; there was just enough time to let the shutter fly before the light disappeared.
As the first sheet of rain reached me, I jumped in the car and got the heck out of there.
At last I was finally back on my mental map, with just a sliver of Oregon remaining. Within minutes I was perched at the summit of my favorite place to watch the clouds, where the weather is always changing: Astoria.
I stopped to fill in a few of the last remaining nooks and crannies in my sketchbook,
and then set about finishing what I started the last time I was in town. Without a detailed map or internet access to tell me where to go, all I could do was wander around. But that’s the best way to explore a place like Astoria—and I found what I was searching for anyway.
Look familiar?
Or how about this?
Even if I hadn’t been location scouting, I had my hands full with a beautiful panorama around every corner. I love the view of the bridge from here.
That bridge. Oh, my.
But staring into the mouth of the mighty Columbia, just as the rain turned into a heavy snow squall, reminded me that home was still many miles away—and that I was hoping to get there before dark.
There was just enough time for one final rainbow,
and then I embarked on the last lonely stretch of empty road.
As I pulled over for my last glimpse of the Pacific, I realized that I’d come almost exactly 1000 miles along the coast. Even with six days spent on the road, those miles flashed by entirely too quickly. But then I remembered that I still had the southern half of Highway One left to explore—and the promise of a whole lot of meandering, some day, to get there.
Sounds like a plan.
