Cannon Beach, OR
Last night we had dinner in a diner, which is another big American must-do for me, though I only realised it when the possibility presented itself. Look over there, other side of the road from the motel (another essential… etc), Grumpy’s, and still open. We started today with breakfast in the same place. There is something to this American customer service-even with slightly grumpy staff service was good. Plus it’s perfectly okay to talk to anyone in the US. I hope I am broken for the UK’s grumpiness (or so it seems from here) now, freely calling hello to strangers and freaking Londoners out by looking them in the eye. I have always done that, but normally settle into avoiding it once a few have looked shiftily away; it would be nice to be oblivious. For the greater good, of course.
On to Seaside, via Cannon Beach. The latter is smaller and quainter, plus it has the rock mentioned, sitting in the bay, close enough to shore that it’s almost as if someone left it there meaning to come back later to position it elsewhere. It’s a grand rock. No pictures, you’ll have to check it out in the film.
Today was a storm watcher’s day, so much so that the afternoon passed in Seaside hostel’s music room with horizontal rain outside and books in. Apparently people do come here just to watch the storms. It is a fairly big town, plenty of shopping, including outlet stores, to keep holidaymakers busy when they’re not on the huge beach. The Hood to Coast relay finishes in Seaside – 1200+ teams of 12, that is a whole host of people to arrive on the beach-as does the Lewis & Clark trail. They explored from 1803-1806, it says here.
“Our party from necessary having been obliged to subsist some lenth of time on dogs have now become extreemly fond of their flesh.”
Reading: Samuel Butler, Erewhon.