Day 56 – May 29

Following a heavy rain during the night, promises of a brighter day were offered and withdrawn in rapid succession as patches of clear sky were lost behind stretches of high overcast. We were moving by 9:30 and heading towards our target of the previous day, Astoria. The beauty of an STC policy is that you readjust and feel no guilt. We needed to take care of some housekeeping items like groceries and laundry and we had heard that Astoria was a great destination.

The drive to the coast took place during one of the ‘promises withdrawn’ weather periods marked by showers and darkening skies. We arrived at the coast south of Seaside and stopped at a Starbucks for some beverages and wifi on the way north. Once again the skies showed some promise of clearing which was the forecast for the following day.

Both the MRT and BRT were in need of an oil change so on the way into Astoria we stopped at a jiffy lube to see if they could take us in. They suggested that we come back 3ish so we continued on to the Columbia Maritime Museum, our educational fix for the day (reading the day old National Enquirer special on plastic surgery gone bad at Starbucks just hadn’t filled our voracious need for knowledge).

Again, not knowing what to expect set us up to be pleasantly surprised. Numerous full sized fishing and Coast Guard boats were on display, geared out as they would have been in their days of service, with realistic mannequins to complete the visions back in time.

The estuary of the Columbia River is one of the most turbulent stretches of water in the world. Each year the US Coast Guard rescues 600 people from the ocean where it is often whipped into huge waves as the Pacific collides with the force of the Columbia’s fresh water flowing over the shallow sand bars created by the Columbia’s never ending supply of silt deposits. During the frequent periods of strong westerly onshore winds these waters can be impenetrable to all but the most specialized of vessels.

Not a job for the timid

The entry to the Columbia River was not ‘discovered’ by Europeans until the late 1700’s as the foreboding water conditions prevented the boats of the day from getting close enough to shore to see the river beyond. Interpretations of the history of the still viable salmon fishing industry preceded displays of marine and naval artifacts, examples of scrimshaw, and countless detailed models of the vast array of ships and boats that used to ply these waters. This is a museum where you could spend a full day and still come away wanting more.

Recognize any of these?

Scrimshaw

We left in time to make our late afternoon appointment for oil etc. and then headed back towards the KOA campground. KOA is a great spot if you are looking for full amenities and entertainment or, as was the case in San Diego, you want a location very close to a city. It is a family based experience but you do pay for all those experiences. The nightly charge was over $50. As we have been paying in the mid $20s at State and National parks this seemed a little steep. This KOA was right across from a state park, Fort Stevens State Park so once we determined that we could come back and use the pay laundromat we headed across the road.

Fort Stevens was a very well kept park set in what felt like a west coast rain forest setting with large moss covered trees and shoulder high ferns. At mid week in rainy weather it had lots of full service sites available at $26 a night. Sean and I hooked up the BRT while Diane and Carla headed back to KOA in the MRT to do the laundry. While they were doing that Sean prepared a delicious meal of chicken korma and got a campfire going. I busied myself in my self appointed role of scribe – taxing work indeed.

Although temperatures were dropping into the 50s we ate outside around the fire which, in combination with the korma over rice, kept us all feeling very cozy, happy campers indeed. After I did the dishes (scribe work doesn’t quite balance 2 hours of laundry work and cooking duties) we sat around the fire while Diane and Sean fought over possession of the poking stick, a nightly ritual that now, in Jane’s absence, only has two players.