"We're going to camp, damnit."

Do you know how hard it is to find a single tent site to camp in for just one night on the Oregon coast in the summer? On top of that, do you know how hard it is to photograph whales on a moving boat from 100 yards away when the whale is being one lazy S.O.B? I do.

This is on Driftwood Beach, and I'm a foot from the water if you'd believe it.

Brian Simshauser (the boyfriend) and I decided to get away and take a jaunt up the Oregon coast to Depoe Bay, our northernmost destination. Taking Wednesday evening and most of Thursday, we had the chance to adventure up and down the coastline, taking in the gorgeous sites (when the fog wasn't so thick you could cut it with a steak knife).

Although it was a fantastic trip, it had it's share of, shall we say.... mishaps? Finding a single tent site in any state campground was damn near impossible. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to turn my nose up at a motel, but after not being able to camp as much as we wanted on our California trip, we were going to find a campground damnit and pitch a tent. It was the principle of the thing, you know? After passing by at least three campgrounds that were full, I finally pulled into Beverly Beach State Park to just ask the kind gentleman at the registration desk if he knew of any nearby grounds that still had availability.  After inquiring and being pointed out on a map the only campground the man knew of that was open, he apparently decided to double check his reservations....

" Oh, wait a minute..." I bat my eyelashes. "...looks like I have one hook-up spot left if you want it." 

" Really? Gosh, luck sure seems to be on my side tonight. Thank you so much!"

"No problem at all, that'll be twenty-six dollars, miss. You'll be on lot H12. Oh, and that's one of the nice big ones!"

"Thanks again for everything, have a great night!"

And this is why I'm glad I have boobs.

Back in the car....

I return to the car with the assigned site and hand over the map to Brian.

" And that's why you're the brains of the operation, Sam..."


With a smooth equitable division of the responsibilities, we now have a tent set up and blankets/sleeping bags all unrolled. It's 9:30 pm.

" I'm hungry."

A seafood restaurant that is quaint, has Discovery Channel (with Shark Week to boot?) on the big screen and serves some decent clam chowder that's open 24 hours? Sign me up.

     We got back to camp after fetching firewood and spent the better part of an hour trying to harness some sort of heat in order to make s'mores. As Brian was tending to the infernal thing (pun intended), I made us both a s'more. They were delicious, but I'm still on the fence as to whether the five minutes of gooey heaven was worth all the swearing, jumping out of the way of sparks, and thumb carpal tunnel from the lighter.
     I woke up the next morning and made a sizable fire within five to ten minutes including time spent searching for smaller sticks to use as kindling. At that point I felt like I should be grunting in success like I imagine the neanderthals did at the first sight of flames. Brian packed up the tent while I did general clean up and sleeping bag duty. I initiated the Simshauser camping rule for the first time: Each person picks up ten pieces of trash from the campsite after all of your personal trash has already been collected. Leave it cleaner than you found it. As I sat down after finding my ten pieces, I noticed Brian looking at me with a small grin on his face. Figuring he must have realized what I was doing, I chastised, "Don't you smile at me".
   

     Do you know how hard it is to photograph a gray whale when the ocean, boat, and whale aren't cooperating? This difficult:

Thar she blows!

I can see how sailors could mistake whales for sea serpents. Strangely, I didn't hear as many "ooh"s and "aahhh"s as I did "C'mon! Get that tail up! Oh come on you lazy whale!" from the skipper. All things considered, whale watching has definitely been one of the favorite things I have ever done. Scratch that off my bucket list.

I hadn't been to the Sea Lion Caves outside of Florence since I was little so we decided to stop by and take a look. It hadn't changed much from what I remember of it (which I can't say is spectacularly clear) - but I don't remember as many rude German tourists that cut lines, shoved their way through crowds, cut people off, and intruded on multiple peoples' photo ops. I wish I knew German better, I would have told them politely (read: not so politely) that they should take a long walk off a short pier.

I was hugging the sea lion...

....Brian was molesting it.

On the way home, I apparently fell asleep for quite some minutes and my dignity failed me. My jaw slackened to (what I can only imagine to be) the floor. So there I was, a snoring venus fly trap all the while Brian was trying to contain his laughter.

" (hahahaha) No, Sam. You looked so adorable! (hahahaha) You seriously (hahaha) looked ridiculously cute.(hahaha)"

" If by 'cute' you mean 'stupid' then yeah, I agree."