It happens a lot when I'm driving, as well as on those rare occasions when I'm on an airplane. I'll be puttering along on the freeway and ahead of me there's an exit sign that says "Ocean Beaches" or a sign pointing to "Seattle next exit," and I'll think, why not? Or maybe we're sitting on an airplane and the flight attendant announces the landing time for our destination and then says, "For those passengers continuing on to Paris…"
Well, lately—okay, honestly, since the election and the resulting chaos on the national scene—I've been alternating between covering my eyes to avoid seeing pictures of you-know-who and getting sucked into watching Alec Baldwin on Saturday Night Live.
So lately the pull to take that exit off the freeway has been almost irresistible. Fortunately for me, a friend had a birthday coming up and, instead of trying to buy a gift—which is always fraught with uncertainty for me—I thought, hey, I'll bet she needs a jaunt out of town as much as I do!
My favorite hands-down jaunt destination is the beach, just a 90-minute drive from PDX, and whether it's Astoria's historic, working port appeal or the taffy-and-Haystack Rock lure of Cannon Beach, there's really no wrong direction. Both drives are scenic, with a choice of forested vistas or a meander along the Columbia River, and easy driving, especially on a weekday.
And, of course, Kitty and Walker had to come along, especially since my friend was the lifelong caretaker of the departed ür-Corgi, Tai, who got us started on this big-dog-with-short-legs journey in the first place. Plus Corgis seem to be drawn to the waves like…well…like seagulls to the beach, so it was a win-win-win all the way around. Even though we got started a bit late, at 11 or so in the morning, we made it to Cannon Beach by 1 and were walking on the beach moments later.
I tend to avoid the section of beach near the touristy downtown and opt instead for pulling into the tiny city park just before hitting the main drag. It's separated from the Haystack Rock area by a creek, which tends to discourage the tourists from crossing it and makes for a nice quiet walk up to the bluff on the north end of town.
We were, of course, starving by the time we made it back to the car an hour later, so we zipped into town and nabbed a comfy booth at Bill's Tavern & Brewhouse where I had a lovely pint of their IPA to go with my spinach salad while my friend gobbled down their chopped salad. Despite the dire weather prediction, it was still astonishly gorgeous out, so we drove down to the south end of town and went for another stroll on the beach before heading back home.
With tired puppies, clearer heads and the memory of a perfect few hours on the beach to hold onto, it was just what all of us needed.
Chances are if I'm within earshot, I'll "lean in." And I don't mean that in a groovy, women-in-corporate-boardrooms, outta-my-way-mister sort of way. I mean I'll literally walk over, shove my nose into the conversation and say, "Did I hear something about foraging? For what? Where? And can I come?"
Ranger Sam shows off an Amanita muscaria.
So by the time I got to the end of the sentence "I’m writing to see if you’d like to visit Astoria for a guided mushroom foraging trip…" I was already typing "yes" in reply to the e-mail from my friend Vicky Hastings, whose agency works with the Astoria-Warrenton tourism bureau.
You see, not only do I love hunting for mushrooms, I also adore Astoria. We've been there several times over the years and have watched it turn from a working port city on the Columbia into a great destination for day trips, overnight visits and vacations, all just a 90-minute scenic drive from Portland. Its dining scene has evolved from a few scattered cafés to one with several very good restaurants featuring local seafood, produce, breads, cheese and beer. And a new brewery seems to be popping up every few months to join ranks with the big kahuna that is Fort George Brewery.
The afternoon's haul.
Our first stop was at Fort Stevens State Park to meet Ranger Sam Gibson, a strapping young fellow with a big smile who was leading us on our foraging tour that day. Our group was small, just another couple and us, so we opted for the "off-road" tour that would give us more foraging time and less walking on trails to get to the more accessible—meaning more well-known and thus potentially picked-over—spots.
As we walked to a spot where Ranger Sam had found mushrooms in previous seasons, he gave us some historical background on the park, as well as pointing out some of the different varieties of mushrooms that we would be seeing during the afternoon. He said that the park staff had started offering foraging trips as a way to encourage people to discover its natural beauty during the winter months. (Contact the park office to arrange a tour, and check this guide for other foraging opportunities.)
Commodore Hotel lobby in Astoria.
Tramping up and down hillsides and gradually filling our bags with the large porcini mushrooms that were springing up out of the wet, moss and fern-covered forest floor, I was surprised when Ranger Sam mentioned that these densely forested hills were once barren sand dunes that had been planted with trees in the first half of the 1900s. Which is interesting, since Fort Stevens was originally constructed during the Civil War to protect the mouth of the Columbia River. Featuring eight gun batteries scattered across its more than 4,000 acres, those same trees have now grown to obscure the view of the Columbia from the batteries.
Lovell Taproom at Ft. George Brewery.
Saying goodbye to Ranger Sam back at the parking lot, we made the short drive into Astoria and our room for the night at the Commodore Hotel downtown. A restored 1925-era hotel that seeks to maintain its historic roots, it caters to modern guests with hipster amenities like beer on tap and an Ace Hotel-style lobby for communing. Rooms are updated with modern furniture and tiled bathrooms, but we were tipped off to a noise problem when we found packets of earplugs in the bedside table drawers—windows overlooking the street let in lots of light, but also lots of traffic noise, and the original wooden doors do nothing to keep out noise from the hallway.
IPA at Buoy Beer on the waterfront.
That said, Astoria's downtown district is bustling with activity and the hotel is within a few blocks of some terrific restaurants. We chose to go to Albatross & Co. across the street, chef Eric Bechard's intimate local watering hole-cum-oyster bar that has recently expanded its offerings to include a full dinner menu. Other dinner options nearby include the eclectically themed T. Paul's Urban Café, and Clemente's Cafe and Public House on the waterfront.
More casual dining can be had at any of the many brewpubs, including the aforementioned Fort George Brewery, as well as at Buoy Beer and Wet Dog Café, the taproom for Astoria Brewing Company. But a hidden gem we found this trip is the Lovell Taproom in the building next door to Fort George. An intimate pocket bar with a blazing fireplace, it often has special small-batch beers not found in the main brewpub next door.
Ordering at Street 14 Café.
The next morning we took the most direct route and checked out Street 14 Café, located on the first floor of the hotel. A comfortable cross between an espresso bar and an old-fashioned diner, the coffee is hot and strong and the food is affordable and delicious. If they could only get those well-seasoned waitresses with a coffee pot in one hand and a cigarette dangling from their lips, it would be the perfect throwback.
I've been going to the beach since before I can remember, taken by my parents back in the day (or "B in the D" to use current vernacular) to any number of beach motels and campgrounds. There was an oft-told family tale of my mother and father as young newlyweds bringing his parents (called "the in-laws") to the Oregon coast for a camping trip to show off my mother's skills as a campfire cook.
Unfortunately for her, as she was coaching some pancakes or steaks or some such to grilled perfection on the red-hot iron grate, she slipped and caught herself from falling into the fire by placing her hand…yes, you can wince now…on that same grate. Since emergency rooms in hospitals weren't readily available or equipped to deal effectively with third degree burns in the mid-1950s, she bandaged it up and soldiered on as any young bride in that situation would have, presenting a brave face to the in-laws and never, EVER, wailing that she wanted to go home.
Dave with two favorites: beach and beer.
Dave and I tend to rent houses when we go to the beach if it’s more than a day trip, preferring to have a kitchen, decent beds and a functioning bathroom with shower nearby rather than a sterile and cramped motel room, especially since we can't deny Walker and Rosey the pleasure of running on the beach with dog-like abandon (see video at bottom).
Manzanita is a favorite spot having, as it does, a more leisurely pace than its northerly neighbor, Cannon Beach, which has gone from a sleepy backwater with a couple of taffy shops and myrtlewood knick-knacks to a near mall-like consumer paradise. A great local resource is Ocean Edge Vacation Rentals, with a staff that is always ready to work within our budget constraints and, even better, has many dog-friendly homes available.
Mmmm…linguini with clams.
On a recent trip for Dave's birthday we stayed at Coe's Cottage, a sweet and comfortable family retreat set back from the beach but with a terrific view of a sweep of ocean. With a decently equipped kitchen, the night we arrived I whipped up an…if I may say so…awesome linguini with clams using steamers from a local market. The second day I promised to take Dave to the spectacular Kelly's Brighton Marina to reprise a lunch I'd had there the week before, one that I knew would blow his mind.
Janice Laviolette, Kelly's best half.
Co-owner and genuinely funny gal Janice Laviolette brought three pounds of clams and two cooked crabs to our sunny picnic table on the deck overlooking the picturesque confluence of the Nehalem River and Nehalem Bay. With a couple of bottles of Ninkasi Spring Reign from the store's fridge, Dave agreed it was going to become a regular stop when we were within spitting distance of the place.
Four Paws for pets and their people.
Then it was back to Manzanita where I strolled the main drag while the guys took Walker for a run. At Four Paws on the Beach, with its supply of both necessities (food, leashes, treats) and not-so (toys, apparel for owners and their pets, and "pet prayer flags"), I finally caved to the lure of the Chuckit for Walker.
And how can you not love a beach town with three book and/or magazine stores? Cloud and Leaf is the more traditional, with an intelligent selection of most genres, including best-sellers and pulpy beach reads. Ekahni Books, a relative newcomer, describes itself as "an idiosynchratic selection," with mostly used titles from (Wm) Styron to (Nora) Roberts. (Could Powell's have been this size once upon a time?)
The classic Manzanita stop is at Manzanita News & Espresso, which has anchored this beach town since I first went there, and it still has the coolest curated selection of zines both popular and eclectic. And the coffee's decent, too.
Mmm again…crab cakes!
Other must-stop shops for inveterate consumers are Syzygy and Unfurl, two (mostly) women's clothing shops that share a building on the town's upper end. Moxie Fair Trade has taken over from another fair trade gift shop nearby, with much the same colorful inventory of gifts, pottery and clothing.
I picked up a fresh steamed crab at Great Northern Garlic Company, a wine bar and small plates place, and took it back to the cottage to make crab cakes with whatever basics I could scavenge from our supplies. Fortunately we had bread for breadcrumbs, a bit of chopped onion, limes for zest and mayonnaise to moisten, and with a salad of greens from the garden and broiled asparagus, we called it dinner.
The last day Dave whipped up a spectacular breakfast of mushroom omelets with some of his bacon and bagels we'd brought, then we cleaned up the place and took the dogs on one last romp on the beach. Here's our 12-year-old Rose doing what she loves to do. And needless to say, she slept soundly the entire trip home.
A weekend at the beach with friends…it sounds so benign, right? But when you're with Linda Colwell and Carol Boutard, things can get pretty nutty pretty fast.
Kelly's Brighton Marina in Rockaway.
Linda had taken us to one of her favorite haunts, Kelly's Brighton Marina in Rockaway, for a lunch of fresh clams and crabs washed down with a bottle of a stunning '06 Pinot d'Alsace from Domaine Bott Geyl that she'd brought along. Though the day was misty, it wasn't cold, so we sat down at one of the brightly painted picnic tables on the deck overlooking the bay.
Linda anticipating the deliciousness.
Kelly Laviolette is the ebullient proprietor manning the tanks and the cooker. His wife, Janice, mans the store and took our order, shortly thereafter delivering three pounds of tiny, succulent steamers with cups of melted butter to the table. A rain shower required a move under cover, but didn't stop us from sucking down all three pounds in short order. After all, we had two whole Dungeness crabs coming.
The delicacy that is a crab heart.
When they arrived, Linda pointed out the tiny, star-shaped heart of the crab, insisting that I needed to try it. I picked up the half-inch morsel, bit down and got a flash of a soft, creamy, intensely briny flavor. Then it was gone. And it's definitely something I'll look for the next time I shell a crab.
Kelly at work.
Walking over to the oyster tanks where Kelly himself presides, Carol asked about getting a fresh oyster. Now, Kelly has the usual small molluscs you find on most restaurant menus, but he also has eight and ten-inch-long monsters, things you might expect to find in a Ripley's Believe It or Not display. So when he told Carol to grab one out of the tank, I thought she'd choose a small, ladylike shell. I should have known better. She came back from the tank proudly carrying (or was it hoisting?) one of the leviathans. Kelly was so impressed he said he'd shoot one with her, though you can see he added his own special twist.
How poor little Travis got roped into the proceedings, I'm not sure I know, but if you turn the volume up at the end of the video you'll hear his review. Hopefully the little guy's not scarred for life.
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