Isabella Bird Miscellany

We went away for the weekend; a quick getaway stolen to breathe. Stolen to rest. Stolen to connect, with each other, maybe with random encounters. The sea was stormy, but we could walk on the beach without being soaked or blown away. Experiencing the power of the waves, noticing stones and debris, some quite large, tossed like one would toss Pick-up Stix. S unny beach days are glorious, but for me, there’s a special appeal in the moodiness of a storm. Our paths crossed with vendors and servers and other visitors such as ourselves. Two encounters were different, no actually three. The initial encounter was with the servers at our first breakfast joint . The guy behind the counter was polite and refined in his jeans, t-shirt and Vans. The restaurant only accepts cash. Who carries much of that anymore? We had some, but needed to pay attention to what we ordered since we weren’t prepared. The gal said, “ No worries, it happens all the time. Just stop back and pay...

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 breat...