Ten years had passed since I’d been to Oregon. Ten years and five months, to be exact, but who’s counting? Frankly, if you’ve ever been to the Pacific Northwest (PNW), you might agree that that’s about 10 years and five months too long.

I lived in the PNW at an early age, including both Oregon and Washington state. After moving away, I would return to spend many summers with my dad and brother in Portland, where we’d spend days exploring trails, water skiing the Columbia River Gorge, marveling at Multnomah Falls or spending a few nights at Seaside on the Oregon coast.

The summer months were the best months, with clear skies unveiling a snow-capped Mount Hood to the east, and on a really clear day, Mount St. Helens to the north. Pine trees as tall as skyscrapers reach for the stars, filling the crisp air with the aroma of essential oils emanating from the small breathing pores of their needles. This part of our country is truly rugged and ruggedly pristine.

Landing in Portland is an experience in and of itself — I recommend the window seat. The captain will announce the final approach, including an update of the current local weather, which is the moment you peek out the window to catch a glimpse of multiple active volcanos including Mounts Hood and St. Helens. Farther south, the Three Sisters. There are five total active volcanos in Oregon and five to match in Washington, including Mount Rainier. Among the pine-covered mountains boasting their layered shades of deep greens and blues, the snow-covered volcanos jut skyward in violent contrast.

Portland International Airport (PDX) is situated along the southern edge of the Columbia River. The plane descends and the vehicles along I-84 become increasingly clearer. And if you happen to have a north-facing window on approach, have no fear … it only looks as though you’re going to have a water landing; the ground below appears just moments before touchdown.

My brother and niece would greet me with hugs and a sandwich. As we stepped out of the terminal to make our way to the parking garage, covered in green foliage like some ancient ruin, I couldn’t help noticing the haze in the otherwise clear skies. This was an unseasonably warm October, and crews in central Oregon were hard at work fighting massive forest fires ignited by lightning strikes. While the air quality was poor, it made for a stunning golden hour, magically turning hard-edged features soft as if our entire reality were being viewed through a Glamour Shots lens.

PORTLAND

Portland is weird. It’s beautiful and rugged; it’s modern and eclectic; it’s all of the things. It’s been said that Portland is a small town with a bitter city smile, and I couldn’t agree more.

In 2011, I caught my first episode of “Portlandia” starring Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein. It was delightfully quirky and absurd — satire at its finest. It was pure Portland.

As we aimlessly walked the downtown streets, I couldn’t help noticing a few scars left from a series of protests and riots in recent years, from Occupy Portland in 2011 to more recent demonstrations in 2020 and 2021. There were still broken and boarded-up windows and graffiti in places that must have taken a feat to reach. I suppose one should expect a few thorns from the City of Roses.

We strolled by some familiar staples like Voodoo Doughnut, Pioneer Courthouse Square and Nike Town, where they have every Air Jordan sneaker in white behind a glass display. Portland native and shoe designer Tinker Hatfield was the creative lead responsible for the Air Jordan line for Nike, whose headquarters is only a 15-minute drive from downtown in nearby Beaverton.

Across the street from Nike Town, we stopped into The Nines Hotel for cocktails at Urban Farmer, whose emphasis is on the local, organic sourcing of sustainable ingredients and simple presentations. Urban Farmer is a must. We would come back another night for steak and oysters with zero regrets.

I only had two things that topped this trip’s agenda: a day trip to Seattle and a day at the coast.

SEATTLE

Wasting no time, we awoke the next morning, grabbed some coffee and hit I-5 north toward Seattle, a drive of three and a half to four hours. Unless you’re my brother; then it’s somewhere between two and a half and three. He drove. And we made good time.

Sunday morning, the sun was out and the temperature hovered around 76 degrees, so all of Seattle was outside. We had no plan, and settled in at the only place we knew: Pike Place Market, which was buzzing with activity. Vendors were in full force selling their art, souvenirs and fresh seafood while street performers danced, mimed and played music for tips. For lunch, Copacabana Pike Place offered fresh clams, mussels and local brew. Elevated above the crowd, we dined outdoors under colorful umbrellas surrounded by a rail of cascading flowers. I could’ve spent the better part of the day right there, simply watching people from above while enjoying good drinks, great company and the local fare.

A short walk down the alley led us to the original Starbucks, where the line wrapped the building. It was a wait of 45 minutes to an hour to get in … so I settled for just a peek inside. From there, we walked aimlessly through the vendors, shopped, grabbed some coffee from a café (without a line) and made our way to the docks to watch the ferries traverse Puget Sound, framed by the faint silhouette of Mount Rainier. Nostalgia got the better of me as I thought back to when I was very young, taking ferry rides from Bremerton to Seattle and back with my mom, while listening to the original Top Gun soundtrack on my Walkman. This day was damn near perfect.

The drive back to Portland was as expeditious as the drive up. My grip on the door handle was firm and unwavering.

THE OREGON COAST

The drive to Cannon Beach from Portland is just under two hours, and it’s akin to driving through a postcard. The Northwest Sunset Highway (US 26) took us through some of the most beautiful countryside in the world as it wound through lush farmland, vineyards and mountain forests of towering pines. You know when you’re getting close — the air feels just a bit thicker, a bit saltier and usually a bit cooler.

I had dressed in layers for cooler weather. It was October, after all. We rolled slowly into town along South Hemlock Street and found a place to park. We got out of the car and immediately knew the layers were unnecessary. It was 10 in the morning, clear skies and already 70 degrees. This wasn’t the cool, misty-gray Oregon coast I was used to — but you’ll hear no complaints from me. I was almost afraid to compliment the weather for fear I’d jinx it, so I kept my mouth shut and soaked it all in.

There was a very soft breeze carrying the salty air along with the smoky haze from the fires in the south. Oddly, it was a combination of all the right ingredients, including the smoke.

We set out on foot to hit the local coffee house across the street. Closed. We walked to another coffee shop. Also closed. Damn it. It’s okay; we’ll improvise. We bought a bottle of Bailey’s at Cannon Beach Liquor Store, then walked to a local dine-in restaurant called The Wayfarer and bought a couple of cups of coffee to go, then mixed our drinks and hit the beach. Before setting off down the coastline, we wrapped the Bailey’s bottle tightly in its brown paper sack and buried it by a large piece of driftwood in the sand. We’d be back for it.

My brother and I walked south toward Haystack Rock, talking and laughing as we reminisced uninterrupted. It dawned on me that this was the first time in our lives we’d been able to hang out together with no other family around. Just the two of us. And it was good.

Now, you can’t walk up to Haystack Rock without taking a photo and a couple of selfies. After all, it’s famous. While the film takes place farther north in Astoria, Oregon, the opening sequence of Richard Donner’s The Goonies features a truck race along Cannon Beach, with Haystack Rock stealing the show. It’s also one of the sea stacks that Sean Astin’s character, Mikey, lines up with the pirate token. Standing at 235 feet, it is the third tallest intertidal structure in the world.

For lunch, we hit Mo’s Seafood & Chowder, my go-to when I visit Cannon Beach. I ordered the clam chowder in a bread bowl and we ate outside on the patio overlooking the coastline and the sea stacks. It was perfect.

After lunch, we strolled in and out of the various shops, picking up souvenirs for the kids back home and a six-pack for ourselves before taking a short drive to my brother’s favorite spot — although I had no idea where we were going.

The narrow road wound around tight curves and through dense forest, and my brother was driving … so my grip was firm and my knuckles were white until we pulled into a parking lot. This wasn’t the stop — it was the stop before the stop — but he knew I’d want to grab a photo of this. We were at Ecola State Park, overlooking Crescent Beach, with Cannon Beach in the distance. This is the place where Mikey lined up the pirate token in the Goonies’ search for One-Eyed Willie’s lost treasure. It’s also part of the Lewis and Clark National and State Historical Park. Photos do not do it justice.

After geeking out a bit, we got back in the car and proceeded to his spot, just up the road at Indian Beach. In all the years I’d come to the Oregon coast, I had no idea this small, secluded place existed. The tide was in, so it felt even smaller than it is. To the north sit the bluffs of Indian Point and to the south are Submarine Rock and Bald Point. Nothing but hills and forest behind and the cold Pacific in front of us, with a handful of surfers in body suits popping in and out of the water. This was the ideal place to sit in the sand and crack open those beers.

Indian Beach is also famous: It’s the stage for the ending scene of the 1991 film Point Break, starring Keanu Reeves and the late Patrick Swayze. In the film, this scene takes place on the world-renowned Bells Beach in Victoria, Australia … but we know better. Indian Beach also plays stand-in for First Beach, where Bella’s friends go surfing and Jacob exposes the truth about Edward Cullen, in the movie Twilight.

My brother and I sat against a piece of driftwood for about an hour, sipping beers, talking, sometimes just staring out at the sea in silence, watching waves crash into the rocks as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. The moment reminded me of a song called “Twin Rocks, Oregon” by Shawn Mullins:

He said, “I came here to watch the sun
Disappear into the ocean
’Cause it’s been years
Since I smelled this salty sea.”
He turned his bottle up and down
I saw him lost
And I saw him found
He said, “I don’t know what I’ve been
Looking for, maybe me …”

Cue that hazy golden hour magic.