A string of weather-related delays stretched our Austin departure by about three hours, so instead of touching down in Portland at 11:30 p.m. we didn’t see the runway until 2:30 a.m. By the time we’d grabbed the hotel shuttle and found our room, sleep felt less like a luxury and more like triage.
Four hours later the alarm insisted we keep to the plan, so we headed for Tillamook Creamery. The self-guided tour offered a quick look at cheese production before we took our own tasting tour: crisp fried cheese curds, an especially comforting bowl of mac and cheese, and a shared scoop of peanut-butter ice cream that somehow made four hours of sleep feel like six.
With a little warmth back in our legs, we drove out to Cape Meares, walked past the Octopus Tree, and circled the lighthouse while the ocean wind tried to steal our hats. It was a brief visit—more reset than excursion—but worth it for the fresh air and the photos.
Back in town, Michael made a stop at de Garde Brewing for a mixed-culture sour flight. The lineup was complex but approachable, and he left convinced the detour should be permanent on any coast-range itinerary.
We continued north to Cannon Beach, parked near the shoreline, and spent about an hour walking along the sand. Haystack Rock was just as impressive in person as expected, and the overall scene matched what people usually describe when they talk about the Oregon coast.
Our next move, Ecola State Park, didn’t go quite as smoothly. Acting on a friend’s recommendation—and skipping our usual research—we chose a trail that turned out steeper and far muddier than advertised. Ninety slippery minutes later Michael had taken one fall in the mud, our shoes were unrecognizable, and we looked as if we’d been hauled from a trench. Not ideal, but definitely memorable.
After a hasty cleanup in the parking lot using the last of our travel Lysol wipes, we drove to McMenamins Gearhart Hotel so Alison could add another stamp to her ever-growing passport. Mission accomplished, we pointed the car toward Astoria for the night.
Astoria’s Atomic Motel—equal parts mid-century charm and modern comfort—proved a good landing spot. We dropped our bags and walked over to Fort George Brewing for pizza topped with chorizo (tasty, if not exactly traditional) and one more beer flight. The beers were excellent, the day finally caught up with us, and we closed the tab knowing a full night’s rest was non-negotiable. Tomorrow’s plan looks equally ambitious, but at least we’ll start it with clean shoes and an updated respect for trail conditions.
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