I just now noticed the buoy above the sign. Huh.
When you’re parked at Champoeg State Park, after dark, a thing you can do with your time is research your next destination. We combed the interwebs for attractions near Grayland Beach State Park, and learned of a restaurant in Westport, Washington. Great breakfasts, said the many discerning folk who frequent Yelp and TripAdvisor. We put The Blue Buoy on our to-do list.
Getting to Grayland involved driving over a the very high bridge between Astoria, Oregon and the Columbia River’s north shore in Washington the State. It’s perfectly safe, as long as it’s not windy, but it’s something of a steering wheel-gripper. We did not fall off.
It seems steeper and narrower in our rig. And, because, I didn’t take a photo: Photo by Ron Reiring – originally posted to Flickr as Hollywood Freeway in Astoria, OR, CC BY 2.0, Link
Aaaaand then we got to Grayland, finding a surprisingly pleasant site, but also surprised to learn that it didn’t have a sewer hookup. No big deal, just a four-night stay, and conveniently located.
This pull-through site was a late find… we must have found it online right after someone cancelled their visit. Right across from a restroom, but quite private regardless. Score!
We’ve been coming to Grayland for five years (!), but this is the first time we had one of these few pull-through sites. We’ll try to get one of these again sometime. Nice.
90-foot parking pad, but somehow there was only one best place to park. How does that happen?
Grayland is good for walks on the beach, but it does not provide awe-inspiring sea stacks or historic lighthouses or any of that. All you really need here is a kite.
A short walk over the dunes left only a five-mile stroll to the ocean. Not really. Also, when you get out near the water, there are clams under there. And they’re alive.
Oh, the Blue Buoy. Remember how Tyler and Wally stayed home for this trip (against their will)? This meant we could drive somewhere and not be sure when we would return, without guilt. (I recently saw a bumper sticker that said “SCREW GUILT.” I kind-of liked it.) At any rate we headed into Westport for a good breakfast. After some dissonance between Google Maps and Westport’s one-way streets, we found the place, got a nice table with a view and… I invested in some guilt, in the form of a #3 (I think) that involved French toast, eggs, bacon and some other stuff.
I am not supposed to eat French toast, or anything else I really enjoy. And I usually don’t. But this day I did.
I’m trying it out: Screw guilt.
Late-day view available to campers slumped in their chairs, mulling the meaning and utility of guilt.
Possibly because of a record-breaking number of changes to this trip, we got home one day after our house-sitter expected us. Embarrassment ensured, but we got over it—because, well, you know.
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