The proof is in the photo: Heather shows off her marshmallow toasting skills.
We just got back from a Northern Oregon coast surfing and camping road trip, where I watched -- and felt -- the long summer drought end.
And, boy, did it ever end.
We just about floated out of Nehalem Bay State Park Wednesday morning -- but I'm getting ahead of myself here.
We arrived on the coast Monday morning, ate lunch at Seasons Cafe -- always great sandwiches -- in Cannon Beach and then lugged our surfboards down the old-growth forest trail at Oswald West State Park.
Oswald West is Oregon Surf City on a summer weekend, but it's uncrowded and beautiful on a summer weekday. The surf was sloppy when we arrived -- the wind had come up and mushed things out -- but it steadily improved through the afternoon.
Miga and Malcolm, Heather's two teenagers, surfed, I surfed and Heather loafed on the beach and enjoyed 70-degree weather. Heather will happily surf in any spot where wetsuits aren't required -- which limits her surfing to Hawaii and Mexico.
I will happily surf in any spot with clean surf -- and will climb into a wetsuit in a hot second.
I, once again, found big pods of surf perch out in the lineup -- and right in the little rip I used to zip out past the swells. I need to buy a sit-on-top kayak or rig an older surfboard up for fly fishing. It would be so easy to wallop the surf perch with a little pink or orange fly on a sinking line.
I'd just have to bob up and down on the incoming swells -- and keep a sharp eye out for bigger waves -- and make short casts into the little slots. Some of the surf perch I'm seeing would go three pounds, and that is a fattie.
And I could use some of the flies I tied for this year's big Puget Sound Pink Salmon Run. I haven't pestered the pinks since last Friday -- I've been gallivanting around Oregon since then, but I'll make up for lost time when I return to Puget Sound next week.
We finally all got tired -- except for Berkeley the lab, who still wanted to play in the surf. We drove down the coast a few miles to Nehalem Bay State Park, which is a find. Nehalem Bay has tons of great evergreen-shaded campsites, clean bathrooms with free hot showers and easy access to gorgeous beach and Nehalem Bay.
A campsite with electrical power and water is just $20 a night. We were tent camping, but it is still nice to have power and water on site. We checked out one of the yurts -- a sturdy tent built on a wood frame -- and they are completely cool. Yurts have electric heat, beds, lamps, an outdoor deck for cooking and loafing around -- and they're just $27 a night.
In short, Nehalem Bay is a screaming deal -- especially if you're into fishing, crabbing, surfing and other aquatic pursuits. It's also smack in the middle of the lush Oregon Coast. Huge cedar and Douglas fir trees grow almost to the beach sand in many spots, and you could spend two weeks exploring all the beaches, waves and sights from Cannon Beach south to Nehalem Bay.
It started to mist a little on Monday night, but that didn't stop the traditional campfire and marshmallow toasting ritual. It's amazing that kids who can barely survive without Internet access, text messaging, cell phones and Personal Digital Assistants can toss all the technology aside when it comes to goofing around outdoors.
And toasting marshmallows -- and making gooey S'mores -- is goofing around in a grand way.
Miga, who is 13, is a member of the Nuke 'Em School of marshmallow toasting. Miga's marshmallows burst into flame -- and then get mashed onto a graham cracker and chunk of Hershey's chocolate.
Malcolm is a Toaster/Nuker -- his marshmallows get golden before they flash into a torch.
Heather is a patient toaster, and her marshmallows are golden-brown masterpieces.
I'm the kind of person who tries to toast but really nukes.
Anyway, all this delightful, time-wasting leads to conversations like this:
Me: "Who invented the idea of toasting marshmallows over an open fire?"
Heather: "Who invented marshmallows -- and why?"
There was a profound silence after this, as all of us -- except, perhaps for Berkeley -- pondered these big philosophical questions. No one knew the answers, but we knew we liked toasting marshmallows.
So, we talked of other simple things, which is nice. I believe that our electronic, high-tech society is pretty cool, but it also takes the personal touch out of talking.
It is so easy to cloak ourselves with a silly nickname and then log onto an Interest message board or chat room to scream and yell at other people with silly nicknames. I suspect our society spends way too much time screeching at each other as it is, and doing it behind electronic fences just makes polite people impolite.
We got up Tuesday and found great surf -- glassy, waist-high peelers -- at Oswald West and tasty saltwater taffy in downtown Cannon Beach. We bought a delicious raspberry/blackberry pie at the Cannon Beach Farmer's Market.
Then it started to rain.
It rained through the late afternoon.
It rained through dinner -- and a short session with marshmallows over a fire that fought the rain.
It poured all night -- and we watched raccoons wander through our soggy campsite. In the morning, we found two small leaks in our tent -- and it was still pouring.
"It's time to blow this popsicle stand," Heather said.
We broke camp in an hour, found my lost car keys -- yet another blunder added to my long lifetime list of blunders -- and drove down to Tillamook to see how milk becomes famous cheese and ice cream.
Now, we're in Hood River a day or so early, but I think this is perfect weather for an evening caddis hatch on Oregon's Deschutes River. My head, full of surf, surfboards and surf perch a day or so ago, is now boiling with rising redsides rainbow trout.
My head my indeed boil a little, as it's hot in that canyon right now. But the evening will be cool and comfortable, and big trout should rise to caddisflies floundering around on the river currents.
Road trip!
