Cannon Beach

Cheri’s café was so out of place with devil leprechauns and the owner that charged us double for our coffees because we didn’t buy anything else put more than bitter grounds on our palate. Cannon beach was a quaint town of uniformity, military conformity wasn’t far off, they had set a high standard and it was evident that no drifters were looking for lodging here.

Dashing into town yesterday morning was rather comical, looking for the Catholic Church we found 4, count em 4 churches on four adjoining corners but no papal speeches. It got a little much when the pastor of this First Christian Church spoke about how he hated ‘ego’ and proceeded to make reference to himself throughout the entire sermon. Hal had had enough when the Pastor said he took the bible literally when speaking about what the disciples had done. He whispered to me, “I don’t the disciples sat at the top of the mountain.”

Out into the outdoor we went venturing to the 2 Cheese markets and my second best cup of coffee at the Pelican Blue Heron Cheese Factory. Then we met flesh on flesh, at the Tillamook cheese factory where Hal and I were the only ones interested in the operations while corpulent American’s were devouring ice cream like the Tsunami’s they’d spoken about where going to happen and their next meal was going to be delayed by mere minutes.

Oceanside gave us ample time to admire massive rocks jetting and sand patterns. Sand was beginning to mount in our clothing, shoes, food, orifices in our bodies and the car. The sweet essence of the ocean mist was become pungent and we couldn’t find the precise source. Our calves were becoming strong from hours of walking on crushed rocks, sedimentary ones.

A quick tally of where my wallet was brought us back to Pelican Brewery where Hal truly wanted another pint. My wallet hadn’t moved nor had our bar spots or the Master’s Golf Open where Jordan Spieth won and we met a local that gave us insights for state parks to walk tomorrow.

Feeling a little woozy from the beer as I still considered myself a neophyte we ventured down the Cape Lookout pathway tactfully trying to avoid puddles of mud knee deep. Hal’s white runners were a muck but the 2.5 hour walk was met with reward at the end. Looking 37 miles out to sea we saw waves lots of them, but the evening walk on our private beach after tasting oysters proved magnificent as the waves in the evening light marvelled our minds. Translucent softened muscles shells swept down the beach for miles making layered patterns perfect for photography. All was well until late in the night when the dinner garlic decided to revolt on our bodies in the tent.