Oregon Coast is the nineteenth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

My first stop heading north is Bandon, Oregon. There is much to love about Bandon—the beaches, the sea stacks, the wildlife, but not the RV accommodations. While Bullard’s Beach State Park is nice, you have to get reservations months in advance. The private RV parks are mostly cramped, expensive, and nowhere near the beach. It’s okay, though, because I’ve already made arrangements to revisit my new favorite RV park in Waldport, Oregon. After a few days in Bandon, I’m headed north again.

Having stayed for a month in the winter, I really liked this park. Now, in the spring, I absolutely love it! Small, quiet, friendly, and teeming with birds, it’s the perfect place for me. The owners are some of the nicest people I’ve met in all my travels, and they think their little park is perfect, too. They invite me to go kayaking with them on the Alsea River and we see seals, osprey, herons, eagles, egrets and even otters.

My daughter happens to be staying only thirty miles up the Oregon Coast in Newport. We share many visits and walks on the beach during my month-long stay. It’s good to spend so much time with her. Getting to know my children as adults is a rewarding experience.

The local high school has erected a nesting platform near the football field (likely to keep the birds from nesting in the lights) and a pair of osprey have made themselves at home. It’s a wonderful treat to be able to observe these birds as they set up housekeeping right in town. It would be fantastic to see the chicks hatch, but I have to keep moving in order to make my reservations and the graduation in Portland.

My next stop is Garibaldi, Oregon. This is a nice little port town that sits on Tillamook Bay. Being on the bay is much different than being on the ocean. The water calmly rises and falls with the tides, but there are no big waves. Clamming is popular here and I can see many people doing it from my RV. It’s an interesting thing to watch. Most clammers have long tubes that they stick into the mud. Then they pull them out and dump the contents, sorting through them for clams.

There are an abundance of bald eagles flying around, as well as great blue herons. One morning, while taking Luna for a walk, two bald eagles are mixing it up in the air. They lock talons and “spin out” all the way to the ground, not twenty yards from me, where they break it off and fly away separately. What a sight! Of course, I don’t have my camera with me, but I have that picture saved forever in my mind.

I notice the great blue herons all fly toward the same neighborhood in town after fishing on the bay. Some of them have fish in their bills as they fly back to a clump of trees on a hill behind a residential street. Since blue herons almost always eat what they catch on site, I surmise there must be a rookery up there. One weekday morning, in a slight drizzle, I decide to go looking. I park at the curb next to an empty lot and watch the trees. Soon I see dozens of nests and plenty of activity involving mating and nesting. I spend a blissful hour watching this rookery and make a mental note to come back here again in the breeding season to experience it again.

Reluctantly, I must tear myself away from the heron rookery because I have reservations at Fort Stevens State Park. If you look at a map of Oregon, you will notice a little point at the very northwestern corner of the state that reaches up towards Washington. That’s Fort Stevens. It is located at the mouth of the Columbia river, where it meets the Pacific. Not only is it surrounded by water on three sides, there are also several lakes within the state park and nearby.

Timing is important when visiting certain places and my timing at this place is not good. Apparently, I have arrived at exactly the same time as the mosquito hatch. The nasty little things are so thick, I don’t even want to go outside. The beach is better than the campground, but it’s almost a mile walk to get there and the trail goes through the trees and near the lake. Even Luna prefers to stay inside, which is completely out of character for her.

We manage to enjoy the place as much as possible, but I have to admit, I’m happy when it’s time to leave. I say goodbye to the Oregon Coast for now. After an early morning drive down the coast to Ecola State Park, I point my motor home inland.

When I was planning to visit Portland for my nephew’s high school graduation, I was dreading the idea of staying in one of those “urban” RV parks. One of the reasons I wanted to travel this way is because I don’t really like big cities. I much prefer the rural areas and being in wide open spaces. When my other nephew graduated, I stayed on Hayden Island at the Jantzen Beach RV Park. The setting was a bunch of RV sites crowded together in a small park surrounded by malls, shopping centers, grocery and big box stores. I didn’t want to do that again.

My online search turned up very few choices near the city. The only place reasonably close was a park on Sauvie Island. I had never heard of it, so I ran it by my sister. She said it sounded great and that she may want to spend more time at my place than her house. The reservation was difficult because they are very vague about rates and how long you can stay. I got the impression that monthly stays were not allowed, so I made a reservation for three weeks. They only take credit cards for the deposit and require cash upon check-in for the balance. This made me a little wary, but with few other choices, I agreed.

Following Google’s directions, I turn left from Highway 30 and cross the bridge onto the island. Immediately, I feel like I’ve crossed into another world. The change from a busy four-lane highway to a rural two-lane, dotted with farms is almost jarring. I see many osprey nests on platforms and power poles as I drive the ten miles or so to my destination. When I arrive to check in, everything feels very laid back and relaxed.

I pay my rent in advance and am escorted to my site by a woman who tells me I better drive slow because the chickens on the property are her babies. I assure her I will not harm them. As I park in my space, I see that I am on a dike overlooking the Columbia River. This is amazing, and yet, it’s only a fifteen or twenty minute drive from my sister’s house in Portland. The half of the island that is not rural farms is a wildlife preserve. Talk about best of both worlds, how did I get so lucky?

My son and his girlfriend are out of college for the summer and on a west coast trip. They come and spend a few days with me. We have a blast at the you-pick strawberry farm, picking strawberries in the rain. I end up with more strawberries than I know what to do with. After we eat as many as we can, I take some to my sister and freeze a bunch more.

After my son’s visit, my daughter comes for the graduation. My parents are also in town for the event. It’s a great time and I’m having so much fun, I go to the office and ask if I can stay another week. Unfortunately, they have no space. I must leave on the original schedule. I’m not used to having to leave a place. Up until now, I’ve almost always been able to extend my stay, unless it was a holiday or something. This puts a damper on my spontaneity.

While I’m disappointed that I can’t stay longer, I’m also excited for my next big destination, which is Glacier National Park. I’ve been wanting to visit for years, but one thing or another prevented it. This time, it’s really happening. I’m sad to say goodbye to my family again, but the sadness is mitigated by the thoughts of the new adventures that await me. I’m learning my journey will be filled with both thrills and heartbreak.