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Delightful Coos Bay, Oregon, and Blankets of Fog
Flowers in front of the Coos Art Museum in Coos Bay, Oregon
People are often surprised to hear that I was a Newport Beach resident and sold real estate in Orange County for about 15 years during the ’70s and ’80s. Even though along the beach we endured a lot of fog and rain during the winter months, none of it ever bothered me because it wasn’t always apparent when the season had turned to winter. The weather is always mild in Newport Beach, and Bougainvillea seems ubiquitous regardless. Well, in Coos Bay, Oregon, it’s not always evident that it is summer when temperatures fall into the 50s, but it’s so beautiful that it’s easy to embrace the fog and the chill that accompanies it.
Coos Bay fog behaves in unexpected ways. Rolling, creeping, prancing, bouncing, and then it slaps you in the face for not paying attention. We viewed the fog crawling over the bridge when we drove down 101 from Yachats and wondered if it would later burn off, which it did not. We were on our way to visit a client for whom I had just sold her last home in the Sacramento area. She had inherited a million dollars around 2008 and bought a bunch of real estate for her family. The second real estate crash, as you know, happened in 2008, so she lost some of her inheritance, which just goes to show that we can’t always predict what will happen.
This client had picked me to be her Sacramento Realtor based on my experience in the business and she said I have “kind eyes.” She found me online, like a lot of my clients. We instantly clicked and have been friends ever since. I didn’t sell her the homes she owned; I was not her buyer’s agent, so I suppose that helped our relationship. But I could help her to maximize her profit potential upon resale as her listing agent.
Sailboat in Coos Bay, Oregon
This person’s home in Coos Bay is a work in progress, located in one of the best spots, right on the water. Old pilings are in her front yard. When she bought the home, her real estate agent said that the water never comes up to her house because there is vegetation growing there. Ha, ha, yes, the water does approach the foundation. When it floods, it just kills off the vegetation and then the stuff eventually grows back. Still, she enjoys a 180-degree view of the water, out to the ocean.
Sunset Bay State Park in the fog, Charleston, Oregon
She lives near Charleston, Oregon, which is where we went for lunch, Miller’s at the Cove Sports Bar and Grill, a casual neighborhood joint with really good food. The spicy chili presents a pleasant kick, and I hear the burrito is killer. After lunch, we drove to Sunset Bay State Park in Charleston, down a newly black-topped winding road, framed by an arbor of hardwood trees, including evergreens and cedars, drooping to form a canopy in the mist. The scenery was magical. Although, once we arrived at Sunset Bay State Park, it was really too foggy to see any sea lions, much less past the line of the beach. Not to mention, I had left my jacket in our vehicle, and it was too cold for this wimp to stand outside.
Coos Boardwalk in Coos Bay, Oregon
We then decided to head back to Yachats so I could work on an offer I was about to receive for another client, when we realized we had not seen any of the downtown area. We stopped along the Coos Bay Boardwalk to view the boats in the harbor, read about the history of the area, and took a quick stroll past shops and restaurants. It was warm enough downtown Coos Bay that I did not need a jacket. I glanced down at my nails, which were in dire need of a manicure. Hmm . . . here was a nail salon, right in front of me. I dashed in and gave the manicurist $20 to remove my polish. That sparkle stuff is hard to get off.
I asked the manicurist how residents feel about so many Californians moving to Coos Bay for retirement. There are some places that really welcome new residents, like Alaska, and others that aren’t as eager to receive non-natives, such as Hawaii. She said the people who love Oregon and all it has to offer are very welcome. The people who are not welcome, those transplants, are the jerks who try to change it. The sentiment seems to be: if you don’t like it here, go home. Quit complaining and yipping because we like it this way.
Umpqua Lighthouse at Umpqua Lighthouse State Park
But that holds true for just about anywhere in the country. Nobody likes a whiner.
We tried to visit the Coos Art Museum, but the staff of three sitting behind the counter lamented they were between installations. There was nothing in the museum to see. Well, why were they sitting there? Instead, I shot photos of the flowers growing in front. They seemed to be dahlias, but I’m not sure. What do you think? See the top of this page for the photo.
On the way back, we stopped to see two things: the Umpqua Lighthouse at the Umpqua Lighthouse State Park and the Strawberry Hill wayside, which provides excellent views of the rugged beauty along the coast and the occasional groups of sleeping sea lions.
Down the road from the lighthouse was a place to rent dune buggies to ride along the beach. My husband offered to stop because he knew that was an activity I wanted to try. It’s funny when I think back to the house I built in San Felipe, Baja California, on the beach. I hated dune buggies with a passion then. Loud, noisy, obnoxious and with it loud, noisy and obnoxious people. Never had a desire to ride in much less drive a dune buggy. But now that I’m in my 60s, it seems like it would be a blast.
Strawberry Hill Wayside along the Oregon Coast
We stopped, unexpectedly, at the dune buggy rental. My husband announced, “Here’s your dune buggy place.” It was too cold and foggy. Everything I had read said you should not try to drive a dune buggy in the fog in an unknown location because you could go over a dune and off into the ocean, goodbye. Well, that turned out to be the last time we had a chance to ride dune buggies, and I declined. Maybe that’s why we are still alive today, though. You never know.
Ingress Portals Approved and Beachwalk in Yachats, Oregon
Highway 101 at Cape Perpetua near Yachats, Oregon
I couldn’t be more excited than if you told me I just won an around-the-world luxury trip for two in a private jet. Ingress notified me yesterday that two of my portal submissions have been approved. The first portal is in Manele Bay on the island of Lanai in Hawaii. The second is on the island of Molokai, Hawaii. Each will display my screen name, which contains the word Realtors but not in a manner that N.A.R. could object to.
Ingress doesn’t accept just any ol’ portal submission and has rejected a ton from me. Historic and iconic structures in Sacramento have been outright rejected as a portal. Even my portal suggestion of the plaque at the Summit of Bald Mountain near Sonoma was pooh-poohed, much to my dismay. You can therefore imagine my giddiness when Ingress Operations approved a couple of my Hawaii portal submissions as I had been previously so dismayed over the lack of acceptance that I stopped making submissions.
Tide Pools along the Historic 804 Trail at Yachats, Oregon
Not that there are any portals to submit along the beachwalk in Yachats, Oregon. The place is pronounced, Yah-HOTS. As a waiter explained at the famous Drift Inn, a restaurant with wood booths and wood floors originally constructed from driftwood, where the ceilings are covered in fancy umbrellas, some upside down with a rose petal print, and dozens of hanging pendant lights featuring custom glass-blown lamp shades from Bob’s glass shop down the road in Seal Rock: Either you’re hots or you’re not.
Cormorants perched high on the rocks in Yachats, Oregon
My husband dragged me away from my computer, before I even had time to write my morning blog, but not before I answered the dozens of overnight emails I receive from clients with sudden inspirations to write after midnight. Time to do the beachwalk in Yachats. There is a path that runs sometimes along the water and other times on the unstable cliff areas along the beach. At one point, it took a sharp left, something I have been known to do in conversations without signaling, and headed out to the road.
Anemone in the tide pools of the Beachwalk in Yachats, Oregon
Those are the homes that must have political connections, I suppose. I imagine they also sell for a lot more than the $500K to $800K range. These homeowners probably don’t want the public trampling through their back yard, and I can’t say I blame them, really. If I lived there, I probably would object to traffic interfering with my vista of the sea unless it was the feathered type.
Large mussel lying along the shore at low tide beachwalk in Yachats, Oregon
We poked around in the tide pools but I didn’t find any baby squid like I used to spot when I lived on the oceanfront in Ventura. Once I had scooped a squid into a glass bottle filled with sea water and brought it inside, thinking I would keep it as a pet. That night I had a horrible nightmare of a giant mother squid attaching all of her tentacles to my picture window, searching for her baby. Would you like to wake up to discover nothing but tentacles covering your window? Huh? I don’t think so. At first, you would think, hey, it’s dark in here, and what is that on my window? And then it would slowly dawn on you . . . hello, Stephen King novel.
Beach and town enveloped in fog below Yachats State Park
It was a lot of work to climb over some of the rocks and make our way to Ocean Beach in downtown Yachats. My footing did not always feel secure, and when you get to be my age, breaking a hip is more of a concern than smashing your camera into the rocks. All of this activity before breakfast, too.
Yet, it was a glorious beachwalk in Yachats. The waves were furious and angry, like ancient Greek warriors banded together, charging into war. Huge walls of water rose up along the shore and then exploded over the rocks — and this was at low tide. I found anemones in the tide pools. Families of cormorants perched on the highest rocks and flapped their wings in the fog. Solitude. Only the sounds of crashing waves and crying seagulls.
Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub
Rainy Day Women Takes on New Meaning in Newport, Oregon
Selling fish at Newport Pier in Oregon
Rainy Day Women #12 and #35 sprang to mind yesterday when the calendar rolled over to July 1, that long-awaited date many Oregonians have anticipated, that day when possessing and growing small amounts of marijuana became legal. Granted, you still can’t buy it anywhere without a medical prescription but at least they can’t bust you for possessing pot and throw you in jail. We celebrated July 1 in a different way, though, and drove from Yachats to Newport, Oregon, along Highway 101.
Crab pots on Newport Pier in Oregon
Turns out the original Mo’s restaurant is located in Newport. So, even though we passed on the Mo’s restaurant in Florence, Oregon, we decided to give this one a try. It was pure tourist all the way, families with little kids screaming sitting on hard benches tucked next to wood tables. Artists in the area had gifted artwork depicting the restaurant that hung on the walls, and at least there weren’t any of those horrible families of yellow-jacketed ducks we’ve seen all over the place.
Elizabeth Weintraub at Newport Pier in Oregon
An older sister turned to her two squawking siblings to warn: Only one of you can win the contest of who can keep quiet the longest. I’ll have to remember that line because they both immediately shut up, stopped fidgeting and with downcast eyes and sad little turned-down grins stared at the wooden table in silence.
Mother warns her child not to touch anything at the Newport Pier gift shops
The healthiest thing on the menu seemed to be Mo’s famous cabbage and bay shrimp, tossed with mayonnaise because everything tastes better with mayonnaise. I also ordered the pan seared and lightly breaded Alaskan cod with a side of grilled green beans. We blew up a few Ingress portals and captured them while we waited for our food.
After lunch, it was time to cruise the gift shops. I hate to say this, but why does everything have to cost $8,000? It’s not that I couldn’t buy it, but I couldn’t justify spending $8,000 on something I don’t really need. Perhaps it’s my Minnesota upbringing, common sense sort of thing, speaking to me, I don’t know. But when I was in the Mike Carroll Gallery in Linai City, Hawaii, last winter, I had felt myself pulled toward a painting at the back of the gallery. It was almost floor-to-ceiling, an ocean scene, from an artist based in Montana. Each brush stroke bounced the light. It was magnificent. I still think about that piece and it, too, cost $8,000.
View of Newport, Oregon, and bridge
In one gift shop, we encountered a five-foot seahorse I fell in love with. It was made from bronze and cast marble. The artist is from Australia. Price tag: $8,000. I stroked it, petted it, admired it and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Of course, it is HUGE and probably too large for our home, and I have to remind myself that we still have a 5-point, shoulder-mounted elk head sitting on our family room floor.
Sea Nettles Jellyfish at the Oregon Coast Aquarium
Since we didn’t buy the seahorse, off we went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium in Newport for the remainder of the afternoon. There were dozens of Ingress portals, all green when we arrived, turned all blue by the time we departed. In between, there was a giant octopus, which meant there was something behind the Octopus’ Garden song after all. Turns out there really is an octopus garden. It is cast off shells, the remains of whatever an octopus eats.
Elizabeth Weintraub checking email on her iPad at the Oregon Coast Aquarium
We toured the seabird aviary of puffins and murres, the rocky shores, sandy shores, coastal waters, viewed sea otters, harbor seals and sea lions. One of my favorite types of exhibits, though, are the jelly fish. We saw jellyfish in Seattle and also the Monterey Aquarium, yet I never tire of watching them. Jellyfish are also viewed live and in person right off the Newport Pier, of all places, hundreds of moon jellies. Newport, Oregon is such a magical place! Even without it’s history-making getting high is legal day.
Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub and Adam Weintraub
Florence, Oregon: Siuslaw River and Heceta Lighthouse
Stained glass pinwheels and flowers outside shopkeeper’s in Florence, Oregon
One of the tourist books at our resort in Yachats mentioned a restaurant for foodies in Florence, Oregon, that no longer exists, as we discovered when we went on a hunt for it. The day was gloriously beautiful, with warm sunshine wrapping her rays around my shoulders, making the weather comfortable enough to remove my jacket and tie its sleeves around my waist. After wandering the gift shops to pick up gifts for my hard-working Elizabeth Weintraub team members back in Sacramento, we set out to find a place for lunch.
I asked one of the shopkeepers about the restaurant, which is when I received a long explanation about who used to own it, who sold it to whom and why it’s closed now, none of which was putting any food into my stomach, and ended with the shopkeeper saying, “But this is a small town and I just keep to myself.” The pace in Florence, Oregon, is much more laid-back and relaxed but not quite as slow as say, Hawaii, or Mexico. Probably because they kinda like visitors and don’t necessarily view your presence as an intrusion into their privacy.
Banks of the Suislaw River Bridge in Florence, Oregon
We tried the Spice Restaurant, known for its creative presentation of seafood and steaks, but it was closed, which accounts for the fact the door would not open regardless of how hard I tugged. No problem, there are many restaurants and cafes in Old Town Florence, and the day was still young. We were not pressed for time like we were the other day when I was forced to eat a grocery store hamburger that had been warmed up in the microwave for lunch.
There are two large seafood restaurants next to each other on the Siuslaw River: Mo’s, whose sign looks like MG than MO and immediately made me think of Booker T and the MGs and about which we had been warned about all the deep-fried stuff, and the International C-Food Restaurant, which is called ICM and features only wild-caught seafood. It seems that the tourist favorite no matter where we go is battered and deep-fried fish, accompanied by French fries: fish and chips. This restaurant was no exception, either, so I opted for a salad topped by wild Mexican shrimp.
“Oh, I don’t know if we can do that,” our waitress said, looking very concerned, almost distraught. I pointed to the menu where it featured a shrimp cocktail and then to the salad, explaining that they could simply combine the two and leave out the cocktail sauce. After lunch, we sauntered over to BJ’s ice cream parlor. It’s probably named after somebody like Bobby Jean and not what you otherwise might think. Then again, it IS ice cream served in a cake cone. And yummy salted caramel at that.
Heceta Lighthouse from Highway 101 near Florence, Oregon
I felt like we had only one option at that point. To curl up under a tree and take a nap. But my husband had more energetic ambitions. Plus, he was the one driving us back to Yachats, and we still needed to visit the Heceta Lighthouse. This still-working lighthouse was hauled up the hill in parts, some 205 feet above the ocean, sometime in the late 1800s. It features, like many, the Fresnel lens, which beams light 21 miles out to sea.
Hemet Lighthouse on site has been restored
We poked around the lighthouse house, but it was locked and we could not enter. At one time there used to be two houses on this lot, and the cement steps, created to allow easy access for getting up on your horse, still remain. I looked in the window because I can’t help myself. I love older houses, especially the vintage homes I sell in the central core of Sacramento with a sense of history. The buildings speak and can transport you back in time. The floor was wood, covered with an ornamental rug in the living room, and the dining area featured an antique table with a lace tablecloth.
In the photo below, you can view the lighthouse in the distance from the front porch and also see the ocean through the trees.
Hemet Lighthouse Keepers front porch
