We just got back a few hours ago from what was to be a quiet, relaxing, scenic few days on the Oregon coast in celebration of our 17th wedding anniversary. What we got instead was a heck of an adventure. We are very fortunate that we were never in any real danger and that none of our property was damaged. We also went into the situation with the vaguest hint of what we might encounter, so we had lots of food, water, flashlights, reading material, and fully charged cell phones. All came in very handy except the cell phones.
It seems to have made the national news, given a couple emails we’ve received. The wind and rain storms that hit here over the weekend appear to have been doozies. We were sort of stranded communication-wise; we are only starting to learn ourselves the extent of the damage across Oregon and Washington.
We headed to a coastal town called Cannon Beach on Saturday afternoon. We originally planned to leave on Sunday but the forecast suggested an earlier start would be smart. (A friend today mothered that, no, the forecast suggested we shouldn’t have gone in the first place. Yeah, yeah.) I called the hotel Saturday morning and asked about their preparations for the predicted hurricane-force winds:
So we packed up our sturdy little SUV, added chains and a cooler of provisions, and ventured over the coastal range in the rain. Somewhere around 500 feet, it turned to snow. Then it got dark. Then it got really snowy. Then a pick-up truck four cars in front of us got freaked out by the experience and slowed to 12mph. The line of headlights behind us seemed to stretch back into Portland. Frustrated idiots decided to pass at various opportunities. I got freaked out when it wasn’t clear where the road was and whether there really were any passing lanes. I regularly told Rob how grateful I was he was driving. He didn’t admit until we got to our hotel that he wasn’t much more comfortable than I was with the snowy trudge over the mountains.
Sunday started off warm and cozy. It was definitely stormy, making us feel smart for having started our trip a day early. We enjoyed lingering hot showers, not knowing they would be our last until just a few hours ago.
Somewhere on Sunday afternoon, the power went out. It was fun and novel and lasted just long enough for the hotel staff to get out all of the promised lanterns and candles, for the chef to finalize his cooking-in-the-dark contingency plans, and for the ten or so other couples staying at the hotel to let out a collective, “Awww!” when the lights came on during the candle lit Wine & Cheese Happy Hour. Naively patting ourselves on the back for “surviving” several hours of powerless vacationing, we all enjoyed a great dinner in the incandescently lit dining room.
Back in the room at about 9:30pm, we were watching the “This Just In” weather reports. Wind in our town had reached 80mph. Then the power went out again, along with the hardwire phone system. Then a cell tower apparently blew over. In a gust, we were isolated and had absolutely no way to communicate beyond our little seaside town. Not much had changed when we finally left this morning, although the newspaper – 3 days worth – was delivered, giving proof that a road back to civilization was finally open. Rumors suggested power would be back on by the end of today.
Aside from the lack of power, phones, hot water, and passable roads out, we had a fantastic time. Truly. And if we had had hot water, we could have happily hung out for several more days. The place we stayed was tremendous. All power outages should be experienced so decadently. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what we ate; I’ll just say we brought most of our provisions home with us. People read by windows and played games by candlelight. I wrote Christmas cards and watched seagulls. I discovered you can judge the strength of the wind by the behavior of the birds. Really strong winds found them hunkered down in a flock behind a grassy berm. This morning we finally saw them flying again.
Over the course of our stay, we bonded with Chuck and Phyllis and Lisa and Tom and Karen and Hahn. There’s a really good shot we’ll see them all there again next year. We shared some hearty laughs, like when Tom turned to a dimly lit woman on Monday night and asked, “So how long have you been here?” We joked that it wouldn’t be long before the question became, “What are you in for?” We also laughed about how our storm stories when we got back home might get embellished a bit. A few minutes later, Hahn was flipping through a photo album the hotel had from a previous storm that had produced a log flying through a lobby window. Oh so quietly, Hahn started taking pictures of those pictures. Brilliant! Although we don’t have a lobby log in our story, Hahn does!
By the time we were packing up this morning by lantern light (one of the few still working – the hotel had already gone through 30 packs of batteries), we were ready to be home. Our freezing cold sponge baths the past three days left us a tad gamey, and last night I resorted to reading the owner’s manual for our new oven (yes, we came THAT prepared with reading material). I was also edgy about being out of touch for so long, fearing there had been a family emergency or something terribly wrong at Woodhaven. Fortunately, after about an hour of driving, we reacquainted ourselves with the wonders of cell coverage and operational gasoline pumps. Although we had various “Are you OK?” messages, there were no emergencies. And upon arriving back at Woodhaven, aside from a grateful cat, a few squishy patches of lawn, and a rain gauge indicating 3.59 inches of rain fell while we were gone, it’s the same powered, phoned, hot-watered haven as always.
It seems to have made the national news, given a couple emails we’ve received. The wind and rain storms that hit here over the weekend appear to have been doozies. We were sort of stranded communication-wise; we are only starting to learn ourselves the extent of the damage across Oregon and Washington.
We headed to a coastal town called Cannon Beach on Saturday afternoon. We originally planned to leave on Sunday but the forecast suggested an earlier start would be smart. (A friend today mothered that, no, the forecast suggested we shouldn’t have gone in the first place. Yeah, yeah.) I called the hotel Saturday morning and asked about their preparations for the predicted hurricane-force winds:
“Oh, we’ll be fine! We’ve got lots of lanterns and candles. All theHeck of a sales guy, he.
rooms have gas fireplaces, and our kitchen is run almost entirely on gas, so there will be plenty of heat and food. Come on down!”
So we packed up our sturdy little SUV, added chains and a cooler of provisions, and ventured over the coastal range in the rain. Somewhere around 500 feet, it turned to snow. Then it got dark. Then it got really snowy. Then a pick-up truck four cars in front of us got freaked out by the experience and slowed to 12mph. The line of headlights behind us seemed to stretch back into Portland. Frustrated idiots decided to pass at various opportunities. I got freaked out when it wasn’t clear where the road was and whether there really were any passing lanes. I regularly told Rob how grateful I was he was driving. He didn’t admit until we got to our hotel that he wasn’t much more comfortable than I was with the snowy trudge over the mountains.
Sunday started off warm and cozy. It was definitely stormy, making us feel smart for having started our trip a day early. We enjoyed lingering hot showers, not knowing they would be our last until just a few hours ago.
Somewhere on Sunday afternoon, the power went out. It was fun and novel and lasted just long enough for the hotel staff to get out all of the promised lanterns and candles, for the chef to finalize his cooking-in-the-dark contingency plans, and for the ten or so other couples staying at the hotel to let out a collective, “Awww!” when the lights came on during the candle lit Wine & Cheese Happy Hour. Naively patting ourselves on the back for “surviving” several hours of powerless vacationing, we all enjoyed a great dinner in the incandescently lit dining room.
Back in the room at about 9:30pm, we were watching the “This Just In” weather reports. Wind in our town had reached 80mph. Then the power went out again, along with the hardwire phone system. Then a cell tower apparently blew over. In a gust, we were isolated and had absolutely no way to communicate beyond our little seaside town. Not much had changed when we finally left this morning, although the newspaper – 3 days worth – was delivered, giving proof that a road back to civilization was finally open. Rumors suggested power would be back on by the end of today.
Aside from the lack of power, phones, hot water, and passable roads out, we had a fantastic time. Truly. And if we had had hot water, we could have happily hung out for several more days. The place we stayed was tremendous. All power outages should be experienced so decadently. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what we ate; I’ll just say we brought most of our provisions home with us. People read by windows and played games by candlelight. I wrote Christmas cards and watched seagulls. I discovered you can judge the strength of the wind by the behavior of the birds. Really strong winds found them hunkered down in a flock behind a grassy berm. This morning we finally saw them flying again.
Over the course of our stay, we bonded with Chuck and Phyllis and Lisa and Tom and Karen and Hahn. There’s a really good shot we’ll see them all there again next year. We shared some hearty laughs, like when Tom turned to a dimly lit woman on Monday night and asked, “So how long have you been here?” We joked that it wouldn’t be long before the question became, “What are you in for?” We also laughed about how our storm stories when we got back home might get embellished a bit. A few minutes later, Hahn was flipping through a photo album the hotel had from a previous storm that had produced a log flying through a lobby window. Oh so quietly, Hahn started taking pictures of those pictures. Brilliant! Although we don’t have a lobby log in our story, Hahn does!
By the time we were packing up this morning by lantern light (one of the few still working – the hotel had already gone through 30 packs of batteries), we were ready to be home. Our freezing cold sponge baths the past three days left us a tad gamey, and last night I resorted to reading the owner’s manual for our new oven (yes, we came THAT prepared with reading material). I was also edgy about being out of touch for so long, fearing there had been a family emergency or something terribly wrong at Woodhaven. Fortunately, after about an hour of driving, we reacquainted ourselves with the wonders of cell coverage and operational gasoline pumps. Although we had various “Are you OK?” messages, there were no emergencies. And upon arriving back at Woodhaven, aside from a grateful cat, a few squishy patches of lawn, and a rain gauge indicating 3.59 inches of rain fell while we were gone, it’s the same powered, phoned, hot-watered haven as always.
2 comments:
Didn't you go on vacation in Hawaii and lose power there, too? I think it's time for a new travel agent! :-)
Oh, yeah, that infamous trip to Kauai a couple of years ago. Our last trip to Kauai...in a lot of ways. :-) Yeah, it rained the entire time we were there, a dam broke, phone lines went down on several islands, people started kayaking on a golf course. We didn't lose power, which allowed us to watch the Weather Channel for days and take pictures of the "Turn Around, Don't Drown!" weather advisories. Oddly, since we moved to the Pacific Northwest, water just seems to follow us...
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