A caving we will go

Also with Wanderlust Tours, we went caving. I guess it was more like "lava tubing," but that's difficult to say.

We drove to Boyd Cave, which is the only one they visit in winter, though they do lots more in the summer. There was a wet fog the night before, and it blanketed the high desert with hoarfrost that was just mesmerizing. Bend's diversity in landscape is amazing, since it's nestled right between high desert and mountains — never a dull moment when you're driving around.

So since the cave was in total darkness, we had to wear headlamps on our helmets (which also means there's basically no photos from inside). We saw a couple hibernating bats inside while we learned about the volcanic history of the region. I love volcanoes.

So anyway, here are some pictures of the hoarfrost-covered vegetation on a cold winter morning.

After we returned from the end of the cave, we were greeted by this view of the cave opening. There's some metal, rickety stairs off to the right, but this view lets us see it without the manmade structures, and it looks pretty mysterious, doesn't it?

Though it was warmer and sunnier by the time we emerged, there was still frost all over most of the plants. It felt soft like snow, if you can believe it. It looks so harsh.

And us, the intrepid cavers! Photo courtesy of our guide, Jeff, who was a geologist and knew SO MUCH about caves, and volcanoes and local wildlife. Notice the intense amount of dust on my pants, thanks to crawling around on our hands and knees. Ha.

That afternoon we visited the High Desert Museum, which was honestly one of the best museums I've ever visited. It was newly renovated, beautifully-done and so interesting. Plus they had birds of prey, which are totally some of my favorite animals out there. I could have watched that golden eagle and red-tailed hawk all day. We spent about 2 hours there, despite everyone saying it was a "small" museum — and it only cost $10 for adults to get in, which truly shocked me. Museums have gotten quite expensive these days, and this seemed like a steal.

The next day we just wandered around the downtown area (which had lots of restaurants and shops), then toured Deschutes Brewery (it was FREE and included samples)! Deschutes makes our favorite beers, from pale ales to IPAs to imperial stouts, and the brewery was so scientific and fascinating. It was huge, first of all, considering it's a micro brewery (albeit one that ships to half the U.S.). Equipment was everywhere, looking all shiny and sterilized, most people working there were guys (on the floor at least, as the tour guide said one of the women who worked there was just upgraded to a master brewer), and it was humming much faster than that opening credit footage on "Laverne and Shirley." It smelled a faint but delicious cross of bread and beer.

They reuse all of their hops, wheat, grain, etc. that are used in crafting the beer. When we ate at Deschutes Brewery the night before, the incredible pretzel we had as an appetizer was made from leftover grains, as were the burger buns. Pretty cool stuff. They're slowly taking over the world, and I'm OK with that.

Discovering Bend

Our vacation to Bend was so incredible that I literally didn't want to leave. That happens often with vacations, but this time, I actually wanted to move there. And still do. If we could find work, we'd be packing tomorrow.

Our hotel was right along the Deschutes River, and we ate breakfast (and had a fantastic dinner at their steakhouse the first night) right by the river. It was beautiful.

A short jaunt from our hotel:

And a shot of the bridge at our hotel and the hotel on the right — told you it was right on the river.

To wake up our low-lander lungs, we hit Pilot Butte for a hike on Sunday. It's very popular because of its great, short hike (there were a lot of locals just exercising), and well, the view at the top.

This shot exists basically because we were masking the need to take a break. Nothing like a hike to expose the fact that you don't live above sea level. These are some mountains in Eastern Oregon, and some residential areas of Bend (Pilot Butte is a cinder cone that's right in the middle of town).

Further up, we spotted Mount Hood up by Portland. Quite a few hours away, and it still dominates the skyline. What a mountain.

And the true reason for Pilot Butte — the incredible view of the closer Cascade Mountains. On the left is Mount Bachelor (which we'll be visiting later), the middle mountains are the Three Sisters, and the one on the right that looks like multiple mountains is Broken Top.

A better view of the Three Sisters and Broken Top:

And Mount Bachelor:

This guy is the reason Pilot Butte was saved for a state park, and it's a really nice one. Bricked platform at the top, bathrooms and handicapped people can even drive up there. Click on this one so you can read it though — it's pretty funny, which is why there's a photo to begin with.

Looking east again — no idea what the mountains are out there because there are just so many and they kind of look the same from such a distance:

Pilot Butte also has great benches (or I guess one giant bench in a circle) to sit and take in the view, so that's exactly what we did. Breathing in the mountain air on a day like that was invigorating — I had missed that.

Up close of Broken Top — pretty spectacular, isn't it?

And here's a compass that listed all the mountains (and buttes, which can kind of be more like large hills) that were visible in a 360-degree view:

Needless to say, I wanted to buy a house at the base of Pilot Butte and never leave. I could walk this every day and never get tired of that view. But there's plenty more exploring to come!

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.

Fruitless fishing

Last Friday was a perfect example of why I love this job. To do a story on a fishing guide, he gladly allowed me to tag along on one of his guided boats, and we went to the Umpqua River, which flows half an hour north of the Bay Area.

It was foggy. It was early. Like, 6 a.m. early. We couldn't see the other side of the river, and we launched almost silently, save for his boat's motor.

Here's Rick and his dog, Molly, who was trying to get the bubbles coming from the motor. She was adorable — couldn't wait to get a fish.

U.S. Highway 101 bridge, behind the fog.

Got to watch the sun rise and burn off the fog — incredible feeling.

And by the end of the morning, it looked like this. I got some sun (mostly on my ears and hands, since they were basically the only parts exposed). What we didn't get was fish. Not a bite. Not a nibble. Nothing.

Rick couldn't believe it. The conditions were right. The bait was nice. He's done this his whole life, so he certainly wasn't mistaken. Sometimes the fish just aren't hungry, I suppose.

His boat caught 10 fish the next day. And he nabbed a 40-pound salmon on Monday. The luck of the outdoors writer — perhaps their fishy friends warned them about all the spawning (and necessary killing) I'd done at the hatcheries. Oh well, it still wasn't a bad way to work for six hours on the clock.

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.

An afternoon in the dunes

One of my favorite places, probably because it's so unique, is the dunes. Most people do the ATV thing, but I prefer to hike. Better workout, and it's fun and challenging.

I knew I'd be busy this week, so I wanted to take advantage of a short afternoon off earlier last week. Monday dawned bright and beautiful (though not necessarily warm), so I ducked out of the office for a quick exploration.

View from the top of the tallest dune:

My favorite hiking partner (I never leave home without him!):

A freshwater pond. Wet winter weather brings these about, and they are ICY. But so, so beautiful.

And the sand is so fine, that when it gets wet near the lake, it looks like brown sugar. I left my mark here:

Another plus? We were the only ones out there. Quiet (other than the wind) and serene for miles. Perfect.

My work day on Thursday

So another photo post. I know. But I like to make you jealous of my job, sometimes. Here's how I spent my afternoon on Thursday (for a story, haha).

Sand railing. Dune buggy-ing. I did it. Sand in my teeth, wind in my face, kind of did it. 

Though I didn't drive, which is probably for the best.

This guy did. He's 80. He's been railing since 1957, which was basically before they were really invented, and definitely before you could buy them in stores and rent them for an hour.

All suited up and on the beach. Pretty sweet ride, for sure. This guy knows how to drive.

He found a crab shell or something. He's a wily one, with so many friends it's ridiculous. And more stories than you can imagine. 

He told me one time he drove by three naked ladies sunbathing where they thought they couldn't be seen, and he was embarrassed. And one time, he ran out of gas in the middle of the dunes, and he was embarrassed then, too. I had a cold, and after we met up for lunch and an interview, he brought me what he called the best cough drops ever when we went buggy-ing. He claimed it cured tonsillitis. I'm not sure about that one, but I'll let you know if they are, indeed, the best cough drops ever.

Shipwrecked

At Horsfall Beach, which has been nothing but pristine, long stretches of sand every time I've visited, surprised me the other day when I went out for a story on beachcombing. The U.S. Forest volunteer told me there was a shipwreck being uncovered, which I had no idea resided in the sands of Horsfall.

It's rusty and quite old, and after some research, I've figured out what ship it is, and that it gets uncovered after winter storms. According to The World newspaper information from when the Sujameco was discovered: 

The 3,542-ton, 324-foot steel steamer was built in 1920. It was traveling from San Francisco to Coos Bay on Feb. 28, 1929, and ran into fog while trying to find the entrance to Coos Bay. On March 1, the Sujameco hit the beach at full speed roughly eight miles north of Coos Bay. The U.S. Coast Guard cutter Redwing and two Coos Bay tugboats couldn’t pull it from the beach. Its crew of 29 abandoned the vessel; it was later cut up for scrap during World War II. Its remains can sometimes be seen at Horsfall Beach during winter when sand recedes. 

And so here it is, peeking out! It was a nice surprise, though low tide had passed so I was unable to get much closer — it was so stormy that waves still were periodically lapping around the remains. I've seen photos online showing nearly the entire outline of the ship, so I know there's much, much more hiding under there!

It was a nice day and I was working. On the beach. I like the photo of this whole shell, but didn't use it for my beachcombing story and I wanted to share it. Horsfall Beach is one of my favorite places, if only we didn't have to pay to park there.