Day 1
Good Morning
We rise at 6:30 a.m., which feels aggressive for vacation. We shower before breakfast in an effort to awaken whatever brain cells are willing to report for duty without coffee.
We gather our gear for the day and head downstairs.
Jeremiah chooses biscuits and gravy. I build a breakfast plate of a waffle, a donut hole, an apple strudel, and optimism.
A brief bout of crabbiness overtakes me when my socks refuse to stay up inside my boots. Jeremy, ever the hero, offers me one of his pairs. Peace is restored. Comfort is achieved. The journey may continue.
On the Road
We begin the drive to Astoria, Oregon.
The scenery is lush and green in that unapologetically Pacific Northwest way. We laugh at the name of a small town we pass through—Kelso—because it makes us think of That '70s Show.
We cross the Washington/Oregon border and soon pull over at a viewpoint overlooking the water. Across it, Washington sits beneath soft industrial smoke stacks that curl into the morning air like slow-moving clouds. Behind us stretches the long bridge we just crossed, looking far more dramatic from a distance.
As we wind down from the mountains, we pass a sign that reads: Entering Tsunami Hazard Zone.
Naturally, I take a picture.
We do not encounter tsunami warnings in Colorado. We had no idea that there were signs made for them until now.
Astoria, Oregon
We arrive in Astoria and immediately head for Mikey’s house from The Goonies. The owner has understandably grown weary of tourists and keeps everyone at a distance. We respect the boundary and snap our photos from down the street like polite fans.
On the way back, we pass the “Goonies Gift Shop,” which turns out to be more coffee shop than treasure trove—but that suits us fine.
Before reaching it, though, we detour toward the water.
We hear sea lions before we see them—deep, echoing barks rolling across the docks. After some investigative wandering, we find them sprawled across floating platforms. There must be close to a hundred. They bark, jostle, flop, and generally behave as if they own the harbor.
We stand there grinning like children.
Eventually we make it back to the Goonies shop, order coffees, and add a Goonies shot glass to Jeremy’s growing collection.
Seaside, Oregon
From Astoria we drive to Seaside, ready for lunch. We head straight to Norma’s Seafood + Steak, housed in a charming little lighthouse-shaped building near the beach shops.
We both order the seafood combo: scallops, oysters, prawns, halibut, and squid. It is magnificent. The clam chowder alone deserves poetry. The food was so delicious, that we forgot to take the obligatory travel foodie photos before the great devouring.
After lunch, we wander through delightfully touristy shops. We leave with a shot glass, candy, two pairs of socks (because apparently socks are part of my narrative now), and freshly screen-printed “Seaside Oregon” T-shirts. The shop owner chats with us and, upon learning we plan to walk the beach, directs us to a quieter stretch away from the crowds.
He is correct. Hardly anyone is there.
The sand is glazed with a thin film of water, creating a mirror-like surface that reflects sky and silhouette. It makes for stunning photographs. We collect a sand dollar, oyster shells, and a crab husk. We witness a seagull pull a crab from the sand, but we are too late to intervene. Nature is efficient.
We linger for a long time—breathing salt air, listening to waves, and simply existing beside each other. I learn this is only Jeremy’s second time seeing the ocean. Watching him experience it feels quietly special.
Cannon Beach, Oregon
We drive to Cannon Beach next. Jeremy changes into shorts and sandals in the parking lot with absolutely no hesitation of potential exposure, which I find deeply amusing.
We walk toward Haystack Rock, looming to our right like something placed there deliberately by a dramatic set designer. Jeremy pokes at tide pools and examines shells with scientific enthusiasm.
Around the base of the rock, anemones and tiny sea creatures live in shallow pools left by the retreating tide. It feels like discovering a miniature world.
At one point, we realize we don’t quite remember where we parked—but we do remember the staircase leading down to the beach. This proves sufficient.
We find the stairs. Victory.
By now it’s after 4 p.m., and we turn toward Portland.
Portland, Oregon
We arrive in Portland and set out to find The Witches Castle. By the time we locate the trailhead, it’s dark—and the trail is closed.
We decide not to test fate in the woods at night and instead head to dinner at Clarklewis. It’s unexpectedly fancy. Jeremy orders tagliatelle; I choose a ribeye. We sit there feeling slightly windswept and underdressed, but entirely satisfied.
Afterward, we cross a bridge into downtown Portland and walk through a clean, modern city lit softly against the night. A brick plaza and narrow park between streets capture our attention, and we wander without urgency.
We end the evening at Starbucks on the plaza.
Good Night
We drive back to the hotel.
As the clock strikes midnight, I wish Jeremy a happy birthday and give him a birthday kiss in the parking lot before we even leave the car.
It feels like the perfect ending to a day full of ocean air, small adventures, and just enough magic.



