Viva Vigo's Public Art!

Public art is often like Muzak: it exists but you hardly notice. It’s bland, easy to ignore, and forgettable. Personally, I prefer public art that demands attention because it is startling, provocative, or even shocking. It also helps if such art exhibits some beauty even if it is an enigmatic sort.

Gobsmacking public art in the United States is found mostly in larger coastal and university cities where a good portion on the citizenry is open minded and not offended by things that are “different.”  Medium and smaller cities are less likely to spend money on, or give their imprimatur to, unusual art that would challenge, maybe even offend, local citizens who would decry spending THEIR TAX DOLLARS! on any art that did not include a cross; depict Jesus, a saint, or a hero; or contain an accurate representation of a pleasant aspect of reality. While, most public art is bought with private funds, its location in public areas nonetheless gives each citizen the right to complain.  

 

Henry Moore's statute in downtown Little Rock, 1978

When I was living in Little Rock in the 1970s, a controversy arose over a sculpture bought by a quasi-public organization and placed in a very public location. It was 1978, and the Metrocenter Development District was trying to revitalize the downtown. It got authorization to create a pedestrian zone and to place an important piece of art at its center, Main and Capitol Streets. Following the advice of advising experts, it bought (with funds coming from a property tax on businesses in the district) a large abstract sculpture by the renown Henry Moore. It was titled, “Large Standing Figure: Knife Edge.” The cost was $185,000. For more on the installation of the Henry Moore sculpture in Little Rock see these links: http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?search=1&entryID=2131 and https://littlerocklove.wordpress.com/2012/08/10/a-silent-sentinal/

A hullabaloo followed, with a flow of complaints about the sculpture; some people complained that it did not look like anything. “What is it?” they would ask. Also some folks complained about its cost, ridiculing the idiots who made the decision to spend a vast amount of money on such trash, even though general taxpayers did not pitch in a penny. Others suggested the art was, at best, a symbol of the folly of over-educated liberals and, and worst, of the decline and fall of civilization. 

When the pedestrian zone was abolished in 1999, the sculpture was moved a couple of blocks to an empty patch in front of a bank. In April of this year, the city of Little Rock acquired it in return for a piece of downtown land. The city will move it to the renovated Arkansas Art Center. The assessed value of the sculpture is about $5 million.   

 

"Iron Horse," in exile on a farm near Watkinsville, GA

I encountered another example of scorned public art when I was living in Athens, Georgia. One day I was driving on a rural road south of Watkinsville, which is a short drive from Athens, when a colleague in the car yelled at me to look to the left. There in a corn field, about 150 yards from the road, was a large stylized statue of a horse (named Iron Horse, or Pegasus without Wings). My colleague then told me the story of how in 1954 the sculpture had been installed on the University of Georgia campus, but many students hated it. After it had been vandalized a few times, the head of the art school had it secretly loaded on a truck one night and taken it to the farm of a man who was happy to host it on his land. The statue, owned by UGA, is still there, but now the university also owns the land that it uses as an experimental farm.  

 

A view of Vigo from the waterfront

Fortunately, despite resistance to it, Gobsmacking public art can be found diverse places throughout the world, including some medium and smaller cities scattered throughout Europe. I was reminded of that when I traveled to Vigo, a city of about 300,000 people located on the Atlantic coast of Spain. I knew also nothing about the city before I arrived there in May, and chose it mainly because it was a convenient stop after a long train trip through the mountains from Burgos.

I quickly started enjoying my visit to the city, in large part due to views of its mountainous residential areas sliding down to the beautiful waterfront, but also because of its public art. Much of the waterfront is a working port with cranes and warehouses, but after walking down the hill from my hotel, I saw the beginning of a long park and walked toward it. As I got closer, I spotted something that caused me to blurt, “What the ….” It was a sculpture of a swimmer taking laps in the concrete. It definitely came from the School of Gobsmacking Art.  

 

First glimpse of "The Swimmer'"

"The Swimmer" by Franciso Leiro

Walking down further the promenade along the waterfront, it did not take me long to get to another strange site. It was a statue of a man, Jules Verne, that seemed quite conventional until you noticed that he was sitting on a huge squid. Unconventional and surprising, I was delighted to see it. The statue subject is Jules Verne, whose book Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, was set in Vigo Bay. If you want to know about the squid, view this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xhyuey4xU3Q

 

Statue of Jules Verne stilling on a squid by Vigo Bay

Walking a few more minutes on the promenade, I came to a plaza in front of a waterfront shopping center that is adjacent to the city’s port, where a gigantic cruise ship was moored. As passengers departed from the ship and walked onto the plaza, they had a surprise in front of them: a large sculpture of the head of a woman (or maybe its a man) whose face has smacked the ground. I thought its name should be “faceplant,” but it turns out to be “Leap.” It was created by Francisco Leiro, a Galician born in 1945. He is the artist who sculpted the Swimmer that I saw earlier. The faceplant piece certainly attracted the attention of the disembarking passengers. After first examining the sculpture myself, I found a nearby place to sit to watch the reactions of people when they first walked by it.

 

"The Leap" by Francisco Leiro

View of "The Leap" from the back

Going up the hill from the port area, through a nicely maintained Old City that gives a taste of Vigo as it looked a century ago, I came to the most bizarre of the city’s public art. It located in a small square next to one of the city’s busiest streets. It is also the creation of Leiro, his most audacious. This sculpture is mounted on high double columns. Its name is “Merman.” The name explains the scales on the man’s chest, the conventional face, and the strange body. For an interesting discussion of the statute, go to this link: https://littlerocklove.wordpress.com/2012/08/10/a-silent-sentinal/ The "merman" sculpture is another piece of Vigo’s art that will be hard to forget. It definitely would not be a hit in Little Rock or Athens, Ga.

 

"Merman" by Francisco Leiro

I have to say that Vigo’s public art certainly enlivened my strolls around the city. While I was most attracted to the Gobsmacking public art, I also enjoyed some of the more conventional art, such as a pair of statues near the shoreline facing each other. One depicted a fisherman returning from the sea carrying some fish, the other his family awaiting his return. These sculptures are touching in a familiar way.

 

Fisherman

Fisherman's family looks for him

With its numerous and diverse pieces of art scattered throughout the city, thanks is owed to Vigo for creating a stimulating experience for strollers. Viva Vigo and its taste in public art!

September 5, 1967: Leaving On a Jet Plane -- The Institute of European Studies Adventure Begins

I know what I was doing fifty years ago today, and I cannot think of anything else I would rather have been doing. Thanks to my good fortune, I was getting on a flight to London to embark on a two-week study tour of Western Europe with about 200 other college students from throughout the United States.

I say it was my good fortune for several reasons. First, I was fortunate that the faculty and staff of the Vienna campus of the Institute of European Studies (IES) were brave enough to load a large group of college students on five buses to show them (I should say, "educate them about") Western Europe. This study tour kicked off IES's year-long "study abroad" program in Vienna, and it was a great start to the school year. Also, it was my good fortune that at the time such a trip was financially feasible. The dollar was strong and the costs of gasoline, hotel rooms, and meals were a fraction of the cost today, even considering the impacts of inflation. Finally, I was most fortunate to be on one of the buses, thanks to an IES scholarship honoring Sen. J. W. Fulbright. Without that, I would have been back on the University of Arkansas campus. 

The IES Tour Bus at the White Cliffs of Dover Waiting for a Ferry
September 14, 1967

Below is the agenda for the "Western European Field Study Trip." It took the group in my bus to London, Oxford, Stratford-on-Avon (where I saw McBeth at the Globe Theater), Bruges, Paris, Trier, Munich, Salzburg, and Vienna. At different locations, we had lectures from IES faculty members (Porhansl, Benesch, Mowatt, Balekjian, Arndorfer, Fellner), plus local specialists. Of the group, I especially liked Dr. Benesch, who had a relaxed manner, a notable sense of humor, and did not take himself too seriously, as was common among Austrian faculty members.

IES Students in Paris, September 17, 1967

The trip was made more enjoyable by the group of students traveling together in our assigned bus. The long trips provided an opportunity to get to know a bunch of students from campuses scattered throughout the United States. I had a chance finally to meet some Yankees and Californians, about whom I had heard rumors but rarely talked to. 

IES Students at the Salzburg Castle, Sept. 24, 1967

Yep, fifty years ago I was getting on an airplane to start one of the best years of my life. Probably before I departed someone should have told my parents, "Don't send your kid to Study Abroad unless you are prepared to welcome home someone you don't recognize."

Come Hither Keats to Praise the Beauty of European Hotel Breakfasts

If I were a poet, I would write an ode to the European breakfast. Well, more specifically, to the complementary breakfasts served by moderately priced European hotels (CBSBMPH), at least in the western and northern parts of the continent. In the ode, I would praise the bountiful nature of the offerings and the richness of the choices. Also, I would rhapsodize how the breakfasts satiate those who partake of them. I might also contrast those breakfasts with those “served” in similar hostelries in the U.S., where the selection is meager, little is palatable, and nothing is memorable. Those sugar-based breakfasts are piled onto flimsy paper plates and eaten, amid debris left by earlier patrons, with flexible plastic utensils.  

 

Entrance to breakfast room in Aalborg, Denmark

I honed my appreciation of CBSBMPH during my recent Eurail Pass trip during which I typically stayed at a moderately price hotel near a train station. The hotels in Germany, Denmark, Norway, France, and Austria almost always provided breakfast in the price of the room. In Spain and Switzerland, breakfasts had to be purchased separately. As in the United States, more expensive hotels rarely had complementary breakfasts, instead demanding up to 20 Euros for their breakfast feasts. 

The complementary breakfasts I had during the trip were usually self service, though the one in Büsum (Germany) was not. There, the waitress described the options and quickly brought the preferred breakfast to the table with a kännchen of coffee. Elsewhere, breakfast items were spread across tables and each person piled what he or she wanted to eat on a plate or two. With few exceptions, drinks were also available for the taking. A few places served hot drinks Dennys-style, putting a thermos filled with the drink of your choice on the table. However, most often coffee was drawn from a huge machine with many choices (espresso, cappuccino, etc.), each selected by the push of a button. These automated machines make good coffee if they are fed fresh coffee beans. Every breakfast offered a choice of juices, including orange juice.^** (In the old days, finding fresh-tasting orange juice in Europe was a challenge. Now, squeezed orange juice is widely available.)

From left to right: scrambled eggs and small wurst, sliced meats, sliced cheese, veggies and fruits, fruit compote, butter/margerine, jams, cereals, bottle water

The breakfast options always included fresh bread (brötchen in Germany, semmeln in Austria, sliced baguettes in France, and loaves of many varieties of heavy bread in Denmark and Norway), different varieties of cheese (soft cheeses predominate in Denmark and Norway, hard cheeses elsewhere), sliced meats (ham is the most popular), butter (also butter substitutes for the calorie conscious), different vegetables (sliced peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, etc.), and many different types of jam. For me, an ideal breakfast consists of a couple of semmeln or brötchen smeared with butter, one eaten with Swiss cheese and ham, the other with a fresh jam.

 

To the right is a automatic coffee-tea machine and fresh fruit (not pictured are a selection of juices and containers of yoghurt)

Other options for breakfast usually included cereals (granola) with milk; fruits and nuts to be eaten with yogurt; fruits; and a fruit compote. Probably more than half of the hotels where I ate breakfast also offered scrambled or boiled eggs, and many of those also provided bacon or wurst alongside the eggs (a sign of the Americanization of the breakfasts). At some hotels there were surprises such as crepes or pastries, and one hotel had a grill where patrons could fry their own eggs. 

 

Bread selection. Slice bread is popular in Denmark, but it also has rolls 

After about 25 hotel-provided breakfasts over 35 days in October and November, I remain an enthusiastic fan of them. Not one of these breakfasts was bad or a disappointment. Some were inspiring. In fact, I wish Keats were around to write a proper ode to the beauty of the CBSBMPH, I am sure it would bring tears to my eyes. Of course, the tears would not be as voluminous as those shed the next time I eat a waffle at a Day’s Inn. 

Some more pictures of breakfasts:

Breakfast at a hotel in St. Anton located in the Austrian Alps. At this breakfast, coffee or tea was brought to the table. Bread jams, and juices are straight ahead ; to the right are sliced meats, cheese, yogurt, fruits and veggies; to the left is a warmer containing scrambled eggs 

 

Breakfast in Vienna: Table with sliced meats and cheese, fruits and vegges; to the left is a griddle on 
which diners can fry eggs; behind the table are cereals, yogurt, and jams

At same breakfast in Vienna, a table with breads, pastry, and fresh fruit (also a toaster for sliced bread)

Among the Fjords of Norway

Although the urge seemed irrational, I have for many years wanted to visit Norway and its fjords. Perhaps, I thought, this urge came from memories of my brief time in Oslo during August 1966. I recalled the fjordian vistas that opened when a bus took me to the top of a mountain on the edge of the city. Or maybe it came from advertisements of Norwegian fjord tours that had wormed a message into my brain.

A new theory of my itch to revisit Norway arose when I got the results of an Ancestry DNA test that showed eleven percent of my DNA is linked to Scandinavian ancestors. Maybe my interest in Norway was a genetic imperative, a call from the old country. Or maybe I was hearing voices of long-dead ancestors calling me home. Nonsense of course, but at least the DNA results provided a reason to head to Norway in October as part of five weeks of roaming Europe with a Eurail Pass (http://www.eurail.com/eurail-passes).

Houses of the Stavanger Old Town

Arriving in Amsterdam, I headed north, spending a few days in Germany. Then, I hopped on a train  going up Denmark’s Jutland peninsula. After a night in Aarhus (http://www.visitaarhus.com/ln-int/denmark/tourist-in-aarhus), an intelligent-looking coastal university town that deserved more of my time, I took another train to the northern port of Hirtshals (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hirtshals), a bleak little wind-swept town on Denmark’s north coast, to catch a ferry to Kristensand (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kristiansand), located on the southern coast of Norway.

Stavanger Harbor by the Old Town and the Shopping District

Kristiansand is a modest coastal city in with a visit-worthy old town. From there, I intended to take a train going west to Stavanger (https://www.visitnorway.com/places-to-go/fjord-norway/the-stavanger-region/ ). However, the train was not running, and passengers were instead put on a bus. The three-hour bus ride passed along fjords, rivers, lakes, and streams, all hemmed in by crudely shaped bluffs and mountains. As the weather turned from cloudy to stormy to sunny, then repeated the cycle, the glimpses of the wild beauty and isolated towns were a nice introduction of the southern part of Norway.

Balloon Magic in the Stavanger Downtown

The Stavanger downtown is perfect for a traveler without a car. Within short walking distances from downtown hotels are the city’s old town with its prim, white wooden houses sitting on a slope going down to the harbor; its  ancient central shopping district with narrow, crooked, rock-paved streets; and its colorful finger of its harbor. Of course, the downtown is just a small part of this prosperous, sprawling city of 128,000 people that is the center of Norway’s oil industry. Nevertheless, visitors like me most enjoy the chance to see evidence of its history.

From the Stavanger harbor, I took a three-hour boat tour of the Lysefjord, a long and wide fjord. In truth, two of the three hours of the trip were in the Hogsfjord that is the path between Stavanger and  Lysefjord. Hogsfjord shores are less mountainous and more densely occupied, apparently with summer homes for Stavanger residents.

Lysefjord is the star attraction of the boat tour because of its dramatic shoreline with irregular mountain sides scraped out randomly by the thrust of icebergs and battered by thousands of years of wind, rain, waterfalls, rock slides, and who knows what else. Its featured attractions viewed on the boat ride were an outcropping far above the water called the Pulpit Rock and a huge waterfall (http://www.rodne.no/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/Kart-Lysefjorden-engelsk.pdf). As much as I enjoyed seeing them, I was equally attracted by the views of small isolated villages scattered in valleys along the edges of fjord.

 

Heading out of the Stavanger Harbor

Whether fjords such as Hogsfjord and Lysefjord should be called “ruggedly beautiful” or “beautifully rugged” can be debated. Whichever description is most apt, the combination of irregularly shaped high bluffs surrounding deep blue water is striking and memorable. As I viewed these spectacular sights, my Scandinavian genes seemed quite pleased to be back in the old country.  

Pictures follow:

Stavanger Old Town

Visit the Fjords

Several small settlements can be seen along the banks of the Lysefjord

A small island near the entry to Lysefjord

Small houses on the banks of the Lysefjordat at the base of  rugged mountain 

Pulpit Rock: Hikers like to walk out on the rock for the view

Another view of Pulput Rock

A small settlement on the Lysefjord

Round rocks in shallow water nears the edge of the Lysefjord

Waterfall on the Lysefjord

The end of the Lysefjord's was many miles from where our trip ended

Dawn in Stavanger

Traveling the Pacific Coast: An Embarrassment of Riches

We have all encountered an embarrassment of riches at some point in our lives. Perhaps it was when we were at a party with a buffet table crowded with too many tasty dishes or when we were visiting a city in which too many historic churches had to be seen. My most recent embarrassment of riches came in late August during a car trip from Birch Bay, WA to Mendocino, CA.  Traveling down the coast, I encountered so much natural scenic beauty, so many memorable vistas, that I was unable to do more than sample a few of them.

The Trip Route from (1) Birch Bay, WA to (2) Mendoino, CA

The idea of the trip was to see as much of the coasts of Washington, Oregon, and Northern California as possible. After getting to the Olympic Peninsula, much of the drive was on Hwy 101.  In Washington, it sometimes veered inland, and we had to take some smaller highways to get closer to the water. In contrast, much of Oregon’s Coastal Highway (also Hwy 101) lies within view the Pacific, so side trips were not necessary. In California, after enjoying stops in the Redwood National Forest, accessing the coast required leaving Hwy 101 and driving a perilous mountain route on Hwy 1 to reach the coast. From there, Hwy 1 was often near the edge of the buffs overlooking the ocean.

Washington: The Olympic Peninsula

The trip was made with my young friend Denis Gajdamaschko. We have traveled together to many places since he turned twelve, including Austria, Poland, Ukraine, and China, plus we have shared a car on long drives from Athens (GA) to Fayetteville (AR) and Athens to Birch Bay (WA). He was as eager as I to see the Pacific Northwest coastline.

We departed from Birch Bay, WA (about 9 miles from the Canadian border) to drive to one of my favorite little towns, Coupeville, on Whidbey Island. There, we caught a ferry to Port Townsend which is located on the north shore of the Olympic Peninsula. The ferry ride is a short one, covering the 17 or so miles in less than 30 minutes.

The city of Port Townsend has an historic waterfront built on a bluff overlooking the Strait of Juan de Fuca and is worth an extended visit, but we stopped only to look at the housing models set up by Greenpods ( http://www.greenpoddevelopment.com/ ). This firm designs and builds efficient and modernistic modular housing, a candidate to occupy a lot I co-own in Birch Bay. We were impressed with both the design and quality of the model units we saw.

View of Port Townsend as the ferry approaches the dock

After that brief stop, we headed west to Port Angeles, another old seaport, to spend the night (http://www.portangeles.org/pages/ActivitiesAttractions/link ). This coastal city with nearly 20,000 residents lies on the north end of the Olympic Peninsula in the shadows of the Olympic Mountains. From Port Angeles’ ferry landing, the city of Victoria (Canada) is only about 25 miles across the Strait (https://www.cohoferry.com/ ) The city has mellow, artistic undertones amid the bulk and debris of an aging seaport.

Outdoor mural showing the futurist ferry, the Kalakala, that linked
Port Angeles with Vancouver CA for many years

The next day, we took off on Hwy 101 for the real adventure. The road plunged quickly into the Olympic National Park; although the highway generally follows the coastline, it often lies several miles away from the ocean. To get to the ocean beaches, we exited it at a couple of points to go farther west.  

Not far from Port Angeles, we turned west onto Highway 112 near Sappho, WA. After a short ride, we checked out Clallam Bay, a small but robust town with an expansive and empty sandy beach. After enjoying the beach views and reading about the town’s naval history on historical monuments in the city park, we headed back to Hwy 101, ready to exchange bay views for some raw ocean.

Just before we reached Forks, WA, we again left Hwy 101 to take Hwy 110 to La Push. Then, the real fun began. At the end of the highway was a noisy ocean plus the community of La Push sitting on reservation land owned by the Quileate Indians.  At La Push, the gentle ripples of bay beaches were only a memory; instead we saw beaches pounded by the powerful waves of the unfettered Pacific. It was a pleasure to finally see the high white-capped waves and hear the sound of an ocean in turmoil. You can sample the views here: http://forkswa.com/first-beach-webcam/

Sign at La Push WA

In and near La Push, we made our way to three sandy beaches (cleverly named First Beach, Second Beach, and Third Beach) separated by bluffs and rock formations. All three were under attack by enormous Pacific waves. To get to two of the beaches, we had to walk steep narrow trails, but the efforts were rewarded with the feel of white sand under our feet, the sound of the raucous ocean, and the sight of the sun turning the water a deep blue with white fringes.

First Beach at La Push (Note the surfer in the foregound)

We were pleasantly surprised to find out that the La Push community has a resort operated by the Quileate Indians with cabins a few steps from the roaring water. After seeing them, I updated my to-do list to include a stay in one the cabins with my Godson Danielka the next time he comes to visit. Maybe we can ride out a fearsome storm there, just to say we survived. http://www.quileuteoceanside.com/

Resort cabins at La Push between First Beach and Second Beach

La Push is surrounded by the Olympic National Park, which includes coastal long the northern part of the Olympic Peninsula.  As with all Indian Reservations on the Peninsula, the Quileate reservation is not part of the park.

Ocean Waves at La Push's Third Beach

After returning to Hwy 101, we veered close to the Ocean for several pleasant miles, then abruptly turned to the East to go around the huge Quinault Reservation. When we were almost around it, we pulled off Hwy 101 to take the Moclips Highway to get us back to the Ocean. This highway ran through heavily forested land to the small ocean-front community of Moclips. There we met up with Hwy 109 and headed south.  Moclips and most coastal land south of it are not in the Olympic National Park, and the difference is immediately visible: without the park’s building restrictions, numerous houses and other structures have been built on the bluffs along the Ocean. (See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moclips,_Washington.)

The drive down Highway 109 mostly followed the shoreline, taking us past several small, aging cities with coastal resorts and RV parks. However, just a few miles south of Moclips, which is populated by modest houses offering million dollar views, we passed through Seabrook, a new development with expensive modern houses overlooking the ocean (http://www.seabrookwa.com/ ).

We puttered down Hwy 109 until we got to Hwy 115, which goes down a peninsula that ends at Ocean Shores, a small rectangular town, six miles long and two miles wide. Surrounded by water on three side, the ocean side of this resort town has huge sandy beaches onto which some people drive their cars. Although this was the first place where we saw cars on the beach, it turned out to be commonplace on Washington beaches further south.

Ocean Shores, with a population of about 5,600, is laid out on a precise grid. This precision likely came during its initial development as a resort in the 1960s. In its initial incarnation, the city, as developed by the Ocean Shores Development Association, was a glitzy place for the rich and famous. Why else would Pat Boone live there for a while?  See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ocean_Shores,_WashingtonWikipedia .

The city’s low-lying, sandy soil, reminds me of similar cities along the coasts of the Carolinas and Georgia. It has several hotels/motels for tourists attracted by its moderate climate and superlative beaches. (For the city’s attractions, see: http://www.tourismoceanshores.com/ and http://oceanshores.com/ .) Also, most noticeable, it has an astonishing number of deer roaming along the roads, munching grass along the public land and in the yards of the city’s residents. Who needs a speed limit when the threat of hitting a deer is always looming?

After a night in Ocean Shores, we drove on Hwy 109 to Hoquiam and Aberdeen where many of the innumerable logging trucks on Hwy 101 dump their loads. Back on Hwy 101, we drove several miles away from the Ocean until we made it to Raymond, which looked like another logging town. After Raymond, Hwy 101 again ran along or near the Ocean for many miles, providing several different opportunities to stop and check out the seemingly unending sandy beaches.

We pulled off Hwy 101 to visit the Long Beach peninsula. Long Beach claims it has the “World’s Longest Beach,” and its white sand does stretch about eleven miles from the top to the bottom of the peninsula. This narrow peninsula reminded me of North Carolina’s Outer Banks, where often when driving you can look one way to see the ocean and the other way to see the bay. Of course, Long Beach is not an island, so we did not have to worry about ferries.

The beach at the southern end of Long Beach

We spent too little time on this peninsula and I have added another visit there to my list of things to do. See https://funbeach.com/ for news of the attractions of the Long Beach peninsula.

After eating lunch in the small city of Long Beach (at the southern end of the peninsula) and walking some of its nicely developed beach-front trails, we continued on Hwy 101 across the soaring bridge that links Washington State with Oregon. Here is where the mighty Columbia River meets up with the Pacific. The bridge took us into Astoria, and after a quick look around the city we continued south on the Oregon Coastal Highway (the state’s name for Hwy 101). In the northern part of the state, Hwy 101 was often within sight of the Ocean.

After some time peeking through the trees for a glimpse of the water, we were ready for an encounter with an Oregon beach.  On a whim, we turned into a parking area with the sign “Hug Point State Park.” I am glad we did. The Hug Point beach is broad and sandy, surrounded by bluffs into which ocean waves have dug caves. Also, not far from the ocean’s edge, huge rock formations rise out of the water.

Energetic Denis jogs to see more of the beach to the south

Hug Point State Park is just one of many small beach parks off Hwy 101 in northern Oregon. If the others are like it, this part of the state is particularly blessed with beauty. 

Hug Point Beach cave

Continuing south, we had a steady diet of enticing ocean views until we reached the small city of Garibaldi; then the highway went inland a few miles, passing through Tillamook (famous for its cheese). We traveled for quite a while with only periodic glimpses of the Ocean until we reached Lincoln City. There, we got a room across the street from – you guessed it -- a sandy beach.

The next day we continued south on the Oregon Coastal Highway and had a long stretch of road with the ocean in view.  One of the two highlights of the long day of driving occurred after we passed the city of Depoe Bay, whose front street has businesses facing the Ocean. We noticed a crowd congregated on the sidewalk across from the downtown stores.  They were intensely staring out at the ocean. We wondered why they were there (bird watchers?), but traveled on. Then, climbing a steep hill south of the city, we saw a bevy of cars parked on a high bluff overlooking the ocean.  Many people were standing at the bluff’s edge. Were they going to jump?

Whale surfacing (left side of the picture) with whalers in pursuit

We stopped to investigate. We quickly learned that the attraction was whales. From that vantage point, we could see a couple of whales periodically coming to the surface. Not far from them, two whale watching boats were filled with observers. We enjoyed the spectacle; that was the first time I had seen whales in the Pacific.

The second highlight came a little later in the day, when, after a steady bombardment of jaw-dropping ocean views, we traveled down a hill in the Cape Perpetua area and stopped at Devil’s Churn State Park. As suggested by the name, at Devil’s Churn the Pacific is sending a steady flow of giant waves smashing into an unyielding igneous beach, creating huge sprays of water. We walked down to this beach, formed by lava flow, for a closer look, carefully avoiding the water crashing over the rocks.  (See http://www.beachconnection.net/news/dchurn021011_344.php )

Devil's Churn from a bluff overlooking it

We greatly enjoyed the spectacle provided us by Devil's Churn and noted that the entire Cape Perpetua area has several beaches and trails for ocean-loving visitors who also love to hike. I made a note to myself: “You have to return for a longer visit to explore this area.” To get a taste of the area, watch the video at this website: http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/siuslaw/recarea/?recid=42265   

Ocean meets beach at Devil's Churn

After Devils Churn we made the long drive to California, stopping intermittently when a view absolutely demanded attention. During the drive, as the road veered inland a bit, we traveled through land famous for its enormous sand dunes. (See information on the Sand Dunes National Park here: http://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/siuslaw/recreation/recarea/?recid=42465) .  Sadly, we had no time to explore the dunes, but noted their existence as candidates for future travel adventures.  

At the end of a long day of travel, exhausted by viewing a surplus of majestic sights, we crossed the Oregon and California border, then stopped in Crescent City, CA for the night.

Northern California

Crescent City is not a particularly attractive city, so we departed quickly the next morning. We had two key items on our agenda: to explore the Redwood forests and to go down Highway 1 to Mendocino. 

Not long after we took off, fog rolled in and stayed around – in and near the water -- most of the day. The play of light and shadow on and over the water enhanced the beauty of the setting.

Foggy day on the north coast of California

We spent the morning appreciating redwood trees whose height and age and beauty are worthy of a long string of admiring adjectives. We left Hwy 101 to drive on the Newton Drury Scenic Parkway through the Prairie Creek Redwood State Park. Midway through the Parkway, we stopped to walk a trail among the giant trees.

Northern California's Pacific Coast on a foggy day

After getting back on Hwy 101, we exited it again a few miles to the south to get to the Lady Bird Johnson Redwood Grove near Orick. This grove of ancient redwoods is protected from development, and an interpretative trail has been developed among them. As we walked the trail, we were in constant awe of our surroundings

Denis on the Redwood Trail

As we sated our interest in redwoods, we worked up a big appetite and stopped in Trinidad, a nifty ocean-front city whose name I had never heard before. With the lingering fog, we had some fetching views of the ocean from the top of the bluff on which the city sits.  After a few minutes in the city, I had the thought: “Wow, I would like to live here.” Then I saw a modest house for a sale a few steps from where we parked. The half-million dollar price tag reminded me of why I don’t live in such a place.

View from Trinidad, CA

Continuing down Hwy 101, we saw enough of Humboldt County to regret that we did not have enough time to check out its many attractions. When we entered Mendocino County, Hwy 101 had gone several miles inland and we were ready to get back to the Ocean. To do so, we left Hwy 101 to travel on California’s famous Hwy 1 at its northern entrance. The first segment of his highway, we quickly found out, is a scary, twisting-turning two-lane road through the foothills of the Pacific Coast Mountain Range. The road has innumerable hair pin turns near jutting bluffs and very few straight stretches. It was an exhausting drive that, fortunately, paid off by taking us to the most memorable views of the Pacific to be found anywhere.

Along the ocean, Hwy 1 is still a dangerous road. Built in the 1930s, it is narrow by modern standards with almost continuous zigs and zags as it follows the coastline. What makes it especially dangerous are the ocean vistas that distract drivers as they try to negotiate the meandering road.

Driving along the Northern California coast, I was getting excited about the prospect of visiting Mendocino. For some reason, I have long wished to see this small coastal town. I am not sure why – maybe because of something I read or saw three decades ago when living a couple of hours away in the San Francisco Bay area. Whatever the source, I have pictured this town as an ideal ocean-front community.

State Park by Mendocino, view to the north

Mendocino did not disappoint. This unincorporated village of about 900 people sits on a bluff with the Pacific clawing at it on three sides. A haven for artists, it is quiet, tidy and unpretentiously upscale. It has an active art center with a gallery and small theater. At the village’s western edge is an ocean-side state park overlooking the ocean with trails for hiking and enticing views to the north, south, and west. In the evening, a lighthouse on a large rock to the north whirls its illumination across the water toward Mendocino every three or four seconds.

Birds on a Pacific Coast outcropping by Mendocino

The Coastal Trip Ends

The night in Mendocino, in a pleasant inn, was the last on the coast. We departed the next morning for a 150-mile trip to Berkeley, but just a few minutes after leaving the village and before we turned inland to drive through Mendocino County’s wine country, we noticed a huge modern mansion sitting by itself on the edge of a high bluff above the Pacific. On this perfectly beautiful sun-filled day, the house struck me as the perfect house in a perfect location, and my envy rose to new heights.

Perfect house in a perfect location on a perfect day, near Mendocino

After a few minutes of stewing in my envy, I calmed down, reminding myself that I had just spent four days enjoying some of the most spectacular ocean views in the world. I decided to be thankful for what I have instead of envying the rich SOBs with their billion dollar mansions and their perfect lives.

Well, maybe I didn’t get rid of all traces of envy, but as we left the coast, I was happy that I had been able to make this trip and was looking forward to returning. A good thing about this embarrassment of riches is that I can easily go back for more.