June 7, 2013

Reorientation to the Motherland. Phase Four: Nostalgia in Oregon

Let's recap. So far in 2013, Andrew and I have been to

New Jersey,
Olympic Peninsula, 
back to Oregon.

*Ikea is so glorious that it demands autonomy.

In continuing with my last entry's ramblings, our final stop on this final road trip is a tiny town nestled on the northern coast of Oregon: Cannon Beach. Some time ago my teen self decided it was imperative to move as far away from home as possible, for no other reason except that now was the time. Fast forward one decade (eek) and I still found myself quite attached to that tiny town.

There's no other way to describe Cannon Beach other than magical. Once you visit, you are doomed. It  will pull you back again and again and again. I'm not even joking. I know countless friends who have had this same experience (including Andrew, who, I am happy to say, has recently just been placed under this same spell).

It doesn't even have to be sunny and warm to entice visitors. In fact, the real magic happens when the clouds roll around, when the mist creeps in, and when you are bundled up head-to-ankle, toes in the cold sand.

With no further ado, I present to you the magic of Cannon Beach.

I. Was. So. Excited.

Almost there!!! The Astoria Bridge.

Cannon Beach!

The first of too many photos featuring Haystack Rock.

Disturbing the peace amidst Haystack Rock.

When the tide is low, it is incredible to witness the life in the tide pools.

North Beach.

View from Ecola State Park.

Indian Beach. Twilight may or may not have been filmed here.
(I promise, that will be my absolute final mention of Twilight here on this blog!)


With joy comes pain. A life cut short. We miss you, Jordan.

Apparently, this is what Oregonians think of Jersians. 

Next up? Making a home in Portland.

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