road tripping: Yachats, it's on Arthur Frommer's 10 best in the world spots

burst through a blow-hole at sunset, 2016

I’ve been to Yachats a number of times, staying at The Adobe. 

It was always our go-to spot to celebrate our anniversary, and set our annual goals while watching waves crash thru vast picture windows. We would wander to Smelt Sands, the pebbly beach near the hotel. End of our Yachats story.

we sat just behind the drift log and watched the sun fall into the sea

Desperately needing to spend some time at the beach, I looked on line, decided our budget wouldn’t do well with our previous abode, and so chose an intimate Inn settled in the middle of town. It had good reviews and the walkability was off the chart, always a plus in my book.

Did I mention the view of the sea?

You know how there’s always the binder, like we used in school, with helpful information? Well, our room had that. The most interesting tidbit was typed neatly in courier, an “ideal spot for a stop in the course of a motoring trip along the breathtaking (and largely undeveloped) Oregon coast." Of course it was. The interesting part is who those words belonged to, Arthur Frommer. Yep, of all the travel books that we rely on when not reading Rick Steves’ tomes.  

broken, yet whole sandollar. the center resembles a clover

My journal read:

A planned trip to the beach became better than expected.  The forecast had been blustery and cool – typical.  The morning played out as thought, waking to the coastal marine layer; actually a welcome break after the high 90’s, tipping 100 degree temps from home.

I opened the slider door to let the salt air blow in. It was slightly damp and refreshing. The Keurig in the room was stocked with French roast pods and French Vanilla creamers.  Why is there always French Vanilla, when plain Miss Moo’s come in the same convenient disposable containers? Nonetheless, I opened three and dropped them in my cup, sat down with a book and watched the waves; waves that continue to roll, whether they are ebbing or flowing, they roll.

the waves don't mind crashing on the rocks, and likewise, the rock let them do it

I tried to read. I always do at the beach. But I get distracted. The waves catch my attention; the sparkle of a breaker in the light, the lonesome sound of a gull skimming the froth or a piper bobbing on the edge. And, the never ending roar, silenced only by walking away.

Then it dawned on me.  The sparkle.  It was the sun shattering the clouds, opening an unexpected day.

Missy

If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance