Bastendorf Beach

The drive south from Portland was phenomenally scenic, and we got our first real awe-inspiring look at the Pacific Ocean.

This is how the dogs usually ride. Backseat drivers.

Let us now discuss the most awful night Fred and I have had in the last six months.

We arrived at the Bastendorf Beach past Portland at dark and had to figure out where to camp. Fred suggested on the beach and pulled Rosie out of the car so she didn't poop inside. I was not a fan of the idea. Little did i know how right I was.

I walked Rosie onto the beach while Fred followed behind me but as she drove forward the car and camper got stuck almost immediately. Fred and I switched places because 7 years in Boston had taught me quite a bit about rocking out of a stuck spot. I managed to drive forward 15 feet and then promptly pile-drive myself into the beach to the point that the nose of the car began to dig out the soil like a shovel. At this point our night began to take a turn. I have a Premier plan with AAA, but that doesn't cover RV's. Walking back to the sign at the beach entrance we realized, stuck as we were, that when the morning came and we needed to call someone to pull us off the beach we'd be facing a 600 dollar fine. At this point in our trip 600 dollars was like millions, and at the point of imaginary. So we began on the slow path towards freeing ourselves.

I began jacking the camper up on sand (the dumbest idea ever) and Fred began extracting every bit of advice from her father she could as to the nature of beached cars and the best way to go about freeing one from the other. As we progressed forward I shoved just about anything I could underneath our poor trapped vehicle in the hopes that something somewhere might actually free it. Fred's father suggested lowering the tire pressure and we attempted that, but to be honest I thought we were trapped forever. Somehow in one beautiful motion our car jerked out of its sandy doom and wiggled across the beach like a dying walrus. We needed to cut left around a sharp turn to return to the parking lot. As I whooped out in victory we again promptly plowed ourselves head first into a sand bar. The parking lot was within sight, but alas we were stuck again.

After some finagling I reversed until we had a clearer path and then I drove straight over the next, flatter, sandbar going about 35 mph then threaded the needle between a brick restroom and a guardrail. The camper was fishtailing behind and Fred was sure that it was going to swing right into the restroom.

The gap is on the far side of the second guard rail.

Finally after about 6 hours of struggling we finally freed ourselves and were able to actually enjoy the awesome place we were camped. We popped up in the parking lot (which is exactly where we were supposed to go), and the next morning we took Rosie, Piper and Juno out to frolic on the beach.

Rosie: "I pee on you. Baaaaaaaaad beach!"

How often do you see a goat taking a stroll on the beach at sunset?

Let's just stay right here in the parking lot.

Two days we were allowed to camp on this beach and we used every minute of it. After the initial almost losing the camper moment our only two sticking points were the moments a homeless village seemed to descend on us and the time a strange teenager and his girlfriend killed their car battery during a beach-side make-out session. He was disturbed when a disheveled-looking Dan came out of the camper and offered to help, but was glad for it.

On our way out of the area we stopped again along the highway at a scenic overlook. The breeze and salt smell were exhilarating.

With a last look at Oregon, we were on our way to California and the Redwoods! So long, Bastendorf Beach, and good riddance! Hello, sunny California!