“Look Mom, a whale!”
I stopped wiggling my toes in the sand and quickly looked out to sea. You can spot whales off the Oregon Coast, and my two boys were determined to see one. They had never been to the ocean before, so we were in Lincoln City for the kind of fun that adventurous young boys—and their parents—can find near the surf.
I eagerly scanned the ocean, lapis blue, with white caps racing toward the shore. Sprays of water shot skyward as wave after wave crashed onto sand.
“I don’t see it,” I said.
“Not that way,” said my youngest, Elliott, with a grin. “Over there!”
He pointed way off to the right. I saw it instantly, and laughed. Sure enough, there was a whale! It was huge and blue-gray, with a striped underbelly. It was not actually in the water, though; it floated majestically on the wind high above. A kite!
Elliott and his younger brother, Paul, laughed with each other and then took off running along the tide, jumping to avoid the water.
A group of kite lovers were gathered at The “D” River wayside, enjoying the brisk wind. A professional flew an enormous octopus that merrily waved its tentacles, and another towed a massive tiger bouncing on the wind, far from his native jungle.
My husband, Andrew, headed across the street to pick up a few kites and get in on the fun. Pretty soon, the boys were scurrying down the beach pulling multicolored kites with crazy spiral tails. And our vacation was off and running.
Over the next few days, our family of four had plans to discover Lincoln City, experience the outdoors and explore the surrounding area including visiting a cheese factory and catching a glimpse of animals underwater at an aquarium. We were off to a great start.
Everywhere you go in Lincoln City, the past seems to be sitting on the front porch waving a friendly hello. On the Pacific Coast Highway, we saw one of the proprietors of the 1920s-era Seven Gables Cottages, now an antique and gift shop, sitting out in front soaking up the sun and greeting customers. Down the road in the Historic Taft District, Mo’s Restaurant, a staple of the Oregon Coast, lured us in for an early lunch with the promise of fresh seafood. Who could resist? After chowing through sourdough bread bowls full of savory, creamy clam chowder, my husband and I chatted with a front row view of Siletz Bay just outside the window while the boys browsed through the attached gift shop.
The past was present when we later drove about an hour north to tour the Tillamook Cheese Factory, where we watched cheddar cheese being made with a century-old recipe. We bought cheese for picnics, but Tillamook is really all about ice cream, according to my kids. We went for dessert before dinner—this was a vacation, after all—and got the Tillamook Ice Cream Adventure, the name fitting the plan for our trip. We dug into a sampler of every flavor they offer, from Salted Butterscotch to Wild Mountain Blackberry to Tillamook Mudslide.
“Try this one, Paul!” Elliott said.
“This one’s the best!” Paul said.
The brothers switched spoons and gave recommendations to each other and Andrew and me, all the way down to the last bite.
The next day, we headed for Devils Lake, 685 acres of warm water that stretches three miles from end to end, tucked away in Lincoln City's backyard. At Blue Heron Landing we had our choice of vessels for hire, from motorboats to kayaks, canoes and paddleboards. My husband sped off with Elliott and Paul, with life jackets and high spirits, on a three-person WaveRunner. I opted for a kayak to tour the lake at my own pace, often looking around to see the spray of water from the WaveRunner—sometimes east of me sometimes west as they zoomed around the lake. The boys came back flushed, smiling and ready for more.
Keeping with the water theme, we continued south on a short but thrilling drive up over Cape Foulweather to visit Newport and The Oregon Coast Aquarium. We wandered happily through Sandy Shores, Coastal Waters and Open Ocean exhibits, among a dozen other habitats. But the Secrets of Shipwrecks: Part History, Part Mystery, was the boys’ favorite. An interactive exhibit, they latched onto the suggestion to pretend to be “Indiana Jones for the day,” launching into a narrated quest as they explored famous shipwrecks like underwater archaeologists. Andrew and I helped their storyline along when Elliott and Paul got too caught up in its logistics, catching each other’s eye and grinning when they went with one of our adventurous ideas.
That evening, we created a small bonfire on the beach back in Lincoln City. A bottle of Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley (about an hour’s drive east over the Coastal Range) accompanied the Tillamook cheese. The ocean gently lapped in the darkness, the fire crackled, the boys built a fabulous sand castle and of course made s’mores, and we planned a hike for the next day. I had spotted the peak on the first day from the beach and said, “I want to climb up there.” I could still see the peak in the moonlight.
Cascade Head looms 1,200 feet above the ocean at the north end of the beach in Lincoln City. The trailhead is at Knight Park, about two miles off Highway 101—we were feet into the start of the hike when Elliott and Paul once again started to concoct another Indiana Jones adventure. We followed the path, climbing through the woods and listening to the boys’ story. By the time we reached the edge of a meadow, even the boys were out of breath and pausing from their tale. It seemed as though the rest of the world was far, far away—all we could hear was the wind in the old growth forest of Sitka spruce and Douglas fir. We listened and relished the breezy, cool air tinged with sea salt.
We stood in the meadow examining our surroundings. Beyond and below, a striking expanse of sea and shore on the Oregon Coast. To our left, the Salmon River wound like a serpent through the open estuary and salt marshes. Secluded, naturally manicured beaches lay just below. Then, the miles of beach running south to Lincoln City where I had stood looking up at this exact spot when we flew kites.
Although we hadn’t said much since we arrived, my husband shh’ed us and slowly gestured behind us toward the meadow, where a small herd of elk grazed peacefully on the grass. One big buck with a proud set of antlers glanced at us but the rest took no notice, as though we belonged there as much as the violets and the riverbank lupine, the butterflies and the elk themselves.
We stood watching for a few minutes before turning around to head back to the trailhead—the boys quick to pick up where their story had left off.
I took a moment to reflect on our vacation in and around Lincoln City, my thoughts only interrupted by Elliott’s and Paul’s creativity.
Like the best stories, I had a feeling that the memories we made over the past few days would stick with us. And, in spite of all our adventures, still more await us on our next visit.