Silver Falls State Park camping

Silver Falls State Park quickly became one of my favorite places in Oregon in a single weekend. Fall colors were bright, cool temperatures kept most tourists away and the campground was nearly empty.

Here's South Falls, a highly-photographed area, as you can see. It's actually really tall, but it's difficult to see that without some perspective. So trust me, it's huge.

You could walk behind it! I love when you can do that. If you click on the photo and look really close to the right of the waterfall, you can see little people on the trail, which should offer some size perspective.

Stopped for lunch on a bridge overlooking the creek, where we had Empire Cafe sourdough bread with homemade blackberry jam (courtesy of the Gunthers).

Gratuitous moss shot, just for Mom.

North Falls from an overlook just off the road. I think you can walk to it, but we were kinda tired by this point.

So we drove to Upper North Falls, which was just a short stroll from the parking lot.

This was such an awesome weekend away. We ate at the best little bakery in Elkton to pick up breakfast for our camping trip, and tried out a new restaurant in Salem on the way home (http://wordofsalem.com/). Just check out that menu, and get the creme brulee french toast — it was incredible, as was their corned beef hash. Might have changed my life. Might have to stop there anytime I'm driving past Salem. Or near Salem at all.

My first fish

I went ocean fishing for a story, thanks to Betty Kay Charters out of Charleston. First of all, they are just the NICEST people. Seriously. And so helpful, even for beginners.

So you have to get up super early — I had to be there before 6 a.m. Ugh. I was tired and a bit nervous I wouldn't catch anything. That was silly thinking.

Once we got to our first fishing spot (they have fish finders in the boats so they know exactly where the rockfish are hiding), we were taught how to let out the line until it hits the bottom. As soon as Captain Kathi was done showing me, my line had a bite. My first cast.

I reeled and reeled and reeled and reeled, and when I was too tired to fight this fish, I reeled some more. I was breathing hard as if I'd been running, and my arms were burning. When I finally pulled the fish above the water line, Bam Bam (the deck hand, he was great) netted it and flopped it on the deck.

It was huge. And it was eating another fish. Both were ling cod, the best of the best for these rockfishing trips. I had hooked the smaller fish, but it was too small too keep. Luckily, the big one wasn't letting go of its breakfast, because she got tossed right in my bucket!

Many hours and different fishing spots later, I had my limit of seven rockfish, plus one ling cod. We scooted back to the dock, and they rushed my fish to get weighed. Twenty-nine pounds. Twenty-nine pounds of delicious fish.

Here's the beast, barely fitting in my bucket full of other fish.

A nice guy named James, who was on the same boat and took my pic with the fish after it got weighed, held open its mouth for me. Those teeth are sharp.

Here's me with my fish! Lots of people were taking my picture, and even more were stopping by and asking me about it. Beginner's luck, I tell ya.

Overall, that was one of the most fun things I've ever done for my job (yeah, I was clocked in while I was on the water). I can't wait to do it again.

San Francisco

Then we drove to San Francisco! The drive was mostly uninspiring — the part of Cali nobody talks about when they're gushing about the beaches and mountains and celebrities. We saw a lot of rice fields, and SO MANY OLIVE TREES.

But eventually we got to the city, after a very stressful drive. (People in California are HORRIBLE drivers. And they don't know it. Or they don't care, either one.) And we met up at our beautiful, old hotel, the Chancellor. It was right in the heart of Union Square, which we loved, but darn it if it didn't have AC. So windows (without screens) were open, the ceiling fan on. Told you it was old. But it was beautifully modern as well, with saturated green walls and sleek furniture.

After settling in, we researched the cable car line (public transit is scarily confusing for outsiders), and walked down to the turntable, where they turn the cars around (MANUALLY!) and headed to Fisherman's Wharf. We were being tourists one day, darn it.

Waiting for the cable car, there was a Gap and Forever 21 right there. This is what Gap looks like.

And the cable car!

Screw the super touristy spots, we ate at Salty's on the Wharf (thanks to a tip from a blogger who said they had the best deal in the city).

They have this fishwich, and it's huge. I think it's cod, battered incredibly, and was the best tasting fish sandwich I'd ever had. Well we bought a whole one, $8, and we split it. It came with an entire cod fillet between two hilariously small buns, packed with a vinegar-y, cilantro-y cole slaw, which was amazingly fresh.

We were also informed we should order their garlic fries, so we did. The order was huge. And we couldn't finish them (that's how big the fish sandwich was, if we couldn't finish the fries, either). They were made with green garlic and parmesan cheese, twice fried, and were about the best fries I've ever eaten. I was still tasting them the following morning, that's how strong they were. Definitely a hidden gem.

Alcatraz from the Wharf. We didn't visit, but I bet it's cool. It looks a lot closer to land than you would think.

Ghiradelli Square! The area was beautiful brick, and had tons of history for the chocolate-making company's home base. So yes, we bought Leslie some chocolate for taking care of the kitties, and we partook in an indulgent sundae. Vanilla ice cream, Ghiradelli hot fudge, Ghiradelli peanut butter, whipped cream in a waffle bowl that was dipped in Ghiradelli dark chocolate. We shoved that in after our filling fishy dinner.

The Golden Gate bridge from far away. We were actually just resting on the walk home from the Wharf, halfway up a ridiculous hill. People have to be fit in SF, whew.

Day two was completely undocumented, mostly because it was all about food, and I was too busy shoving my face to wipe off my greasy hands and dig for my camera. But I'll share the dirty details with you, mostly because I don't want to forget all the amazing food I ate. It's about to get wordy up in here.

Ferry Building: A food lover's paradise. Basically tons of stores with locals sellers of just about everything you can imagine. Mushrooms. Wine. Fruit. Honey. Olive Oil. Cheese. It was tantalizing.

We had a pre-lunch at Boccalone, which is owned by Food Network's Chris Cosentino (who hails from SF). It's basically pig. Smoked, cured, salted, piggy perfection. The dude has a pig tattoo — he knows his stuff. So we got the salumi cone for like, $3, which is just a paper cone with three types of piggy goodness in it. We had mortadella, pancetta (I think), and something else that I'm sure John can remember. I can't really describe the delicious flavors they all had, all I know is that they were perfection. Fatty, oily, salty, perfect.

Then we ate lunch. Oh, lunch. We went to Cowgirl Creamery after some serious debate on where to eat. We ordered their grilled cheese of the day, and we honestly had no idea what was on it, but we figured it had to be tasty. I remember wagon wheel cheese, and something I can't pronounce and tomato something I can't pronounce. It. Was. Incredible. Melty, tomato-y, crispy. I got a raspberry cream soda, which was made with actual cream and raspberry soda. John got chocolate milk, and it was easily the best we ever had.

We bought some lemon olive oil (haven't used it yet) and some blackberry honey, which was deliciously sweet and complex in flavor, and perfect on a sourdough-type bread, lightly toasted.

Then, dinner. Also inspired by Chris Cosentino, oddly enough. On The Best Thing I Ever Ate, he said we had to eat at Mr. Pollo, a latin place mostly known for arepas. But don't get the arepas.

Order the chef's tasting menu, which is a four-course meal of the chef's choice, for $15. So we did. We got there early because it's popular and only seats 12 (though I can't imagine it's very comfortable with that many people) The place was dark, and you sit, like, four feet from the kitchen, which really isn't separated from the dining area at all. Hipster-like music blasted, and there were three (THREE!) people working there to cook our food. The chef, the chef's helper, and some other random dude who made dessert and served us when the chef himself didn't. Now, for the important part, our foray into the incredible minds of Mr. Pollo's chef.

First course: It was a lemon broth with fried yucca, fried plantains (both firsts for me!), chicken and green garlic. A perfect starter, and real depth of flavor.

Second course: Scallops, grilled to latin perfection, with yellow (orange? something? not red) beets, cucumber and cucumber foam on top (which was pretty crazy to try).

Third course: Frog leg, deep fried in crunchy, perfect batter, topped with a broken caesar dressing (we have no idea), over a parsnip puree with asparagus. I think this was my favorite.

Fourth course: Pork loin with fava beans, tomotoes, peas, avocado, topped with a sweet potato croquet.

Dessert (yeah, we went there): It was another little tasting menu, with authentic flan (MUCH better than any Mexican restaurant around here), house-made coconut/lychee ice cream, and the piece de la resistance, the life-changer, a small, steaming hot dulce de leche and queso fresco souffle.

Yeah, bow to our eternal food glory.

The next day we drove out of town, which worked out nicely, because we wanted to see the Golden Gate Bridge, and we crossed it! Here are a few pics during our stop.

After that, we drove five-ish hours north, through towering redwoods and rolling hills to Patricks Point State Park, our camp for one night. I have a few intoxicating pics from the nearby beach as we awaited sunset, so I'll share those in a less wordy post. Gold star for reading through all this.