The Nearly Perfect Road Trip (Part 2)

See Part 1 for the beginning of the story.

Fresh and clean, we departed Waldo Lake, bound for an even bigger, better lake. 

At one point, we saw something dart across the road in front of us, disappearing into the bushes on the other side. K. and I looked at each other.

"Did you see that?"

"Yeah I did."

"What did it look like to you?"

"A bobcat?"

"Me too."

If so, it might be the first time I've seen one... I am, in fact, not exactly sure when in the trip this occurred; it might have been the day before or one of the two days after, in fact, but it was somewhere in Oregon. But, I am putting it here in my account.

The sky remained so smoky, it was looking like we wouldn't even be able to see Crater Lake. The magnificent lake was the deepest in the U.S., supposedly so blue it must be seen to be believed. It was the attraction I'd most been looking forward to before the trip.

On the drive to Crater Lake

I was resigned; we'd already seen and done so many great things that my happiness was undiminished by this development. Nevertheless we parked at the edge of the crater and walked up to the lip.

We could see Wizard Island, but not much more.

We still made the drive around the rim, stopping at a few viewpoints. Look at that view!

My, what a beautiful car.

We also visited the Pinnacles and Plaikni Falls, which didn't suffer as much from the ash whiteout:

And a bathroom stop, where a wandering deer turned to watch us:

There was a surprise when we got to the campground. K. had reserved a site ahead of time, but still had to wait in line to register. It turns out that actual sites are not assigned when you reserve, and you have to drive around the loops and find one that's open. This left us vulnerable to a terrible disease we have called Finding The Best Site. Sometimes we are forced to visit every loop in the campground, wracked by anxiety that there might be an even more awesome site somewhere that we haven't seen yet. Thankfully there weren't that many sites open, and after ten minutes we had staked a claim to an acceptable plot of land in the tent-only area.

There was a store in the Mazama Village that offered alcohol and commestibles and we discussed the possibility of buying marshmallows, since we'd forgotten to bring any. I regretted that they came in such huge packages and said I wished we could buy a very small bag of just six marshmallows. Heaven knows marshmallows are cheap, but I don't think I've ever finished an entire package in my life.

Somehow, the woman in the neighboring campsite heard us because she came over with a ziploc of marshmallows for us.

This is possibly the best marshmallow-themed picture I've ever taken.

She said it was a peace offering because her very small child was liable to start crying at five in the morning. In any case it was very sweet.

I wanted to have dinner in the restaurant at Mazama Village. Such things charm me. I didn't visit a large National Park, the kind that have "villages," until I was about thirty, and the idea of being able to purchase food, shower, AND camp under the stars while viewing some of the world's best scenery still blows me away. It is my perfect combination of civilized and wild. And yet, to date I had never eaten at a restaurant in a National Park.

I got fish and chips while K. had a burger and fries. We were halfway through the meal when K. realized that the fries were lightly battered, with a faintly visible dusting of what was likely wheat (the waitress confirmed). This brings me to what is a continual source of frustration for both of us: foods being doctored with unnecessary ingredients. French fries are incredible just as they are, just some potatoes thrown in oil. Why do they need wheat? K. is gluten-free and I am lactose intolerant, and having to read/ask the ingredients of everything invites one into a topsy-turvy world where nothing makes sense anymore.  Why does this chewing gum have milk in it? Why is there wheat in the scrambled eggs? Why do these hot dogs contain milk?

All that aside, I was grateful for a real meal. We also explored the gift shop, where I got K. a nice hoody with a picture of Crater Lake on it so we could see what the lake looked like. We returned to the campsite for some drinks. We then walked over to a truly terrible ranger program about birds that I'm not sure any amount of alcohol would have rendered enjoyable. After that, it was campfire and marshmallow time.

So that's what Crater Lake looks like...

I had meant for the day to be a slow one -- make it to our campsite by two, then do some actual relaxing -- but our time had become packed with the same dawn-to-darkness activity of the first few days of the trip. We fell asleep with the hope that the winds would shift during the night and our view would be clear in the morning.

The next day, the view from the trail behind the campsite wasn't too promising...

...but, yes, the skies were a little clearer, allowing us to see more of the rim.

Sort of, anyway. We enjoyed the view and hot dogs at the cafe, but we were pressed for time. We had to make it to the coast to meet up with one of K.'s old friends.

As we approached the coast there was an elk viewing area where the elk were imitating African wildebeests, giving rides to birds:

A bachelor party

K.'s friend was waiting for us at the beach and took us on a little walk up and through the coastal forests, before joining us for dinner at an adorable Thai restaurant.

It was after our visit with her that we endured the incident that makes this the Nearly Perfect Road Trip instead of the Perfect Road Trip.

We had booked two nights at an Airbnb in Florence. It looked lovely online, with firepit, sauna, deck with hammock, etc. It was dark by the time we arrived, and it took us several minutes to find our entrance from the directions, which were confusing. There was a placard next to the glass door stating that the door was unlocked for us and to call these numbers if there were any trouble, and this was the wifi password. The door was locked. We couldn't get through to the numbers. There was no wifi signal.

Then, incongruently, we saw children run through our room beyond the glass door and run out again.

K. finally managed to get through to someone, who had her husband unlock the door for us, and we entered into a moldy converted sun porch. They invited us through a disintegrating sliding closet door into the rest of the house and showed us the bathroom. We would have to walk through their living area, where they were currently preparing dinner, in order to take a shower. The reek of cat pee was overpowering, the carpet covered in stains. Also incongruently, the couple explained that they had a carpet-laying business. The unexpected children ran around hollering. We went back to our room and took in a deep breath (through our mouths!) and looked around. We could hear everything the family was saying and doing through the cheap doors, which had no lock. None of this situation had been outlined by the listing, and we immediately wanted out.

But we were in a vacation town on a Friday night, and everything else in town was likely booked. I decided I wasn't skipping out on a shower and went to take one while K. searched the web. I tiptoed past the family, trying not to make eye contact. The spider-festooned bathroom, which was wet with recent use, also had no lock, so I rolled up the bath mat and shoved it against the door.

K. hadn't found any other lodging when I returned, so we decided to just sleep in our bags on top of the now-suspect bed. We would leave early in the morning to try to find an open campsite for Saturday night, and if we failed we could just come back and stay here again.

In the morning we closed up the room, which couldn't be locked from the outside either. Driving up the coast, we pulled off at the first campground we saw, a small Forest Service affair. Remarkably, there were two open sites! We chose a lovely, secluded spot carved out of lush vegetation with shafts of golden sunlight slanting through. The coastal air smelled delicious. I was filled with relief. It was the best campsite ever.

Well, this seems promising.

We realized that our Thai leftovers were still in the fridge at the Airbnb. I started some oats while K. drove back up the road to get them. When she got there, she found the door open and the meals missing from the fridge. They told her they thought we'd checked out, so they put our food in their fridge (??) and were airing the room out. The little boy handed the meals to Kade, saying, "This one's good, this one's not."

We strove to quickly forget this experience (aside from leaving an appropriate review). That morning we had delicious oatmeal en plein air, followed by a hike to some dunes.

Orchid?

K. was eager for us to visit the Sea Lion Caves, which she had first visited many years ago. The Sea Lion Caves is a lavishly touristy outpost tacked on to a genuine natural marvel. One descends hundreds of feet in an elevator to the country's largest sea cave, where sea lions come to rest from their maritime exertions.

The brisk wind was wintry. Breakers rolled in through the cave's openings, spilling onto the rocks. Since it was summer, only a few sea lions were present in the cave, but it was enjoyable to observe their lounging and roaring. (No California sea lions were present, so there was no barking; the Steller sea lions made more of a roar that sounded, well, exactly like a very long belch.) There were also viewing areas outside to see where most of the sea lions were sunning themselves.

After that we visited some beaches to explore tide pools and collect rocks.

We had more plans for the late afternoon and evening, but I was getting very tired, and we still hadn't had any time for simple relaxation on our trip. We decided to just get a bottle of wine, go back to the campsite and start a fire. It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable evenings of the trip.

Setting up my pad and sleeping bag in the tent... I hate the labor of undoing my boots and taking them off, but I also hate getting dirt or mosquitos in the tent.

These paleo puffs were an essential component of the evening. We ate the entire bag in one sitting.

The next day, I sadly bid farewell to the campsite that rescued us and we headed up the coast. We stopped to see the Oregon Coast Aquarium and Beverly Beach before finally arriving in Portland, where we would be visiting with K's best friend.

Our Airbnb in Portland was thankfully less in the mold of the previous one and more like all the other Airbnbs I've stayed at, which were lovely.

The next morning we went to visit the rose garden and Japanese gardens, both of which were awesome. It's amazing how different roses (and their smells!) can be.

The one above was huge, with a scent so strong I practically heard it as well as smelled it.

Here's another photo from the rose garden, but not of a rose. We first discovered this while going through our trip pictures. Neither of us remembers taking a photo of some random scrubby plants, never mind one with a hazy glowing shape in the middle of it, but here it is.

I have no explanation for this, but it's also not especially compelling as a photo of the spirit world. If the spirits wanted to communicate with us, I think they could have chosen a better way than making our camera take a surreptitious snapshot of some bushes and a smear in the shape of a giant human chromosome.

The Japanese gardens were perfect on this grey day, but unfortunately not too many of my photos turned out well in the dim light. Here's one that did:

All this, and our trip was only about half over! Obviously, there will have to be a Part 3.