Seven Days in Oregon
A bird dog friendship, a winding coastline, and a week that reminded us why the best trips are built around the people you share them with.
Foggy mornings. Towering waterfalls. Quiet conversations over homemade meals. Tide pools, redwoods, and evenings around the fire on the Pacific. What began with a chance meeting in a motel parking lot years ago became one of the most meaningful trips we’ve ever taken.
Oregon wasn’t in the plans for this year.
After moving to Texas, we imagined spending the summer settling into a slower rhythm close to home. Aside from our annual bird hunting trip out west and a few visits back east to see family, we figured we’d stay put for a while.
Then an email arrived.
Suddenly, we were booking flights to Portland.
Not because Oregon had always been on our list, but because of a friendship that began years earlier in a motel parking lot in eastern Montana.
Sometimes the places that leave the biggest impression aren’t the ones you’ve dreamed about for years. They’re the ones that find you through people.
This is the story of that trip.
The Friendship That Took Us West
A few years ago, Hayden pulled into a motel parking lot in eastern Montana after a long day on the road chasing birds. Across the lot sat another truck with three English Setters. Their owner was Bob.
A quick conversation over bird dogs turned into afternoon hunts together, then hunting trips across Wisconsin, Kansas, and North Dakota. Hayden would run Ernie while Bob hunted behind Bud, Dottie, and Belle. Somewhere between shared miles and long walks through prairie grass, a friendship quietly formed. They had an instant bond over their mutual love for the sport and Bob’s lifetime of passion for the outdoors. The two of them always had a way of winding up in the same place at the same time.
I never had the chance to meet Bob.
Instead, I came to know him through the steady stream of fly fishing books, upland hunting stories, and outdoor antiques that would arrive in our mailbox. Today those same books fill the shelves of our home—a reminder that some friendships continue to shape your life even from a distance.
Last spring, Hayden received an email from Bob’s wife, Harriett, sharing that Bob had passed away. After that conversation, we knew we wanted to make the trip to visit her. Harriet lived in Oregon and the coast became part of the story, too.
A Morning in Portland
Portland was quiet when jet lag woke us up before the sun. It was quieter still when we wandered into Keeper Coffee, letting the morning unfold slowly before breakfast. The old building, warm wood floors, portraits of hunting dogs and lightly cracked windows let some of the cool summer air seep in and I was instantly in love.
We timed our entire morning in Portland around brunch Xiao Ye, an Asian-American, neighborhood restaurant. When we arrived, we were greeted by a small line outside a beautiful brick building full of character in the heart of the city. It lived up to every expectation. Drip coffee. Pancakes. Simple things done incredibly well. It was nostalgic, easy and the best breakfast I can remember having in years.
Before leaving the city, I ducked into Fisherman's Daughter Vintage because no road trip feels complete without finding something that reminds you where you've been.
East Toward the Columbia River Gorge
By late morning we were headed towards the Columbia River Gorge. Although Portland is beautiful, I was ready to get into the landscape and be a little more immersed in the vibrant green forests that characterize the Pacific Northwest.
Latourell Falls was our first stop, a towering two hundred twenty-four foot waterfall with a single dramatic drop. Standing at its base made me realize how different the Pacific Northwest feels from anywhere else I've traveled. Moss clung to every surface, water echoed across the basalt rocks, and the scent of pine seemed to hang in the air.
As we continued east, Mount Hood slowly disappeared in the rearview mirror while the landscape transformed from dense evergreen forests into high desert. The lush greens blended into the warm hues of land reminiscent of the western hunting grounds I’ve come to love.
We did a quick pit stop in Hood River and caught the kite surfers in action. Hundreds of colorful kites taking full advantage of the windy day. We meandered around the waterfront park and watched all the action before packing back up and heading to Harriett’s home.
Why We Made the Trip
The moment we pulled into the driveway, Dottie and Belle sprinted toward the fence to greet Hayden. The cows next door wandered over too, as if they were part of the welcoming committee. A rural oasis, we were greeted with wide open views, home cooked meals and lingering conversations that meant the world. It was a full circle moment to be together in Oregon watching the dogs scanning the horizon for birds and reminiscing on days gone by.
After we had finished catching up, Harriett looked over and asked, “Would you like to throw some pots?” I knew that Harriett was a potter, but I wasn’t prepared for the little home studio she had right in the garage. I followed her outside, borrowed some “mud clothes” and a pair of sunflower clogs she had from the yard and we got right to it. I hadn’t thrown in months, so it took a minute to return to the rhythm, but when it did I was reminded that there's something healing about working with clay. As the afternoon turned into evening, we talked while shaping bowls and mugs, sunlight pouring through the windows and settling across the studio floor.
A few home cooked meals, some time in the studio and hours to watch the dogs run. A few days I won’t soon be able to forget. A photograph pinned on her kitchen refrigerator stayed with me more than anything else I saw in those few days. A picture of Bob and Harriett standing together on a glacier in Alaska when they were about our age.
Both so adventurous and clearly happy to be together. It reminded me that the places we travel matter because of who we share them with and those we meet along the way. That one will stay with me.
I've had dozens of messages asking where we stayed and how we planned this route. I'll share the complete itinerary at the end of this story.
A Long Drive to the Southern Coast
After an early wakeup call and a few heartfelt goodbyes, we were on the road down south. Seven hours later, forests gave way to towering sea stacks and winding coastal roads.
We spent our first few nights in Brookings, Oregon, at Crook Point. A secluded retreat with eight homes on family-owned coastline that’s been passed down for generations. Before we settled in for the night, we made our way to the Samuel Boardman Scenic Corridor to catch sunset from the remoteness of the rugged cliffs.
The sky was just starting to yellow just as arrived at the trailhead. We spent the next hour hiking through the dense forest to the edge of the coastal cliffs where we caught the last glimmer of sunset.
By the time we reached our cottage that evening, it was dark. The windows were open and the ocean was all we could hear.
Tide Pools & Redwoods
The next morning I slipped out before sunrise carrying a freshly brewed cup of coffee. The beach below our cottage was empty.
Light filtered through fog hanging in the pines while waves rolled quietly onto shore. The sound of the gulls and the outgoing tide left the breeze feeling refreshed as it rose with the day. Those mornings are why I love waking up early. Not because they’re productive. Because they feel like you’re getting to witness something before the rest of the world shows up.
I didn’t have plans to go tide pooling, but as the sun warmed the shoreline and the tide started rolling in closer, I wandered out to the rocks that had been left uncovered at the last outgoing.
Green anemones, giant colorful sea stars and what I later learned was a Gumboot Chiton were stacked filling every corner, cove and lingering pool. Every new section felt like discovering a tiny world hidden beneath the surface. Hayden made his way down and we kept exploring until the tide started to cover back up the beauty of the underwater world. And just like that the sea fog rolled in.
At first I was disappointed. Most of the viewpoints we’d planned to photograph disappeared behind a wall of white. In hindsight, this was the best thing that could have happened. Instead of waiting for the day to unfold, we drove to California. A detour for us both to see the Redwoods for the first time.
Everyone tells you to see the Redwoods. I never understood why until we walked beneath them. We picked a hike called the “Grove of Titans” and walked for a few miles through the forest. How can you describe a tree that’s three-hundred feet tall and thirty-feet wide or what it’s like for the silence of the forest to settle around you? We have the seafog to thank for that.
Afterwards, we made our way back to our beach house and I meandered down to the hot tub on the edge of the sea cliff to unwind and read a good book. We ended the night with another foggy beach and a visit from a sea lion that swam just close enough to wish us goodnight.
The Road to Canon Beach
Another driving day. But this time we were headed back up the coast to Arch Cape and Cannon Beach. We made one last stop at Kissing Rock Coffee in Brookings (the best coffee in that part of Oregon in my opinion) and started our drive north. The dramatic southern coastline disappeared behind us with all its beauty.
The only pit stop of the afternoon led us to the quaint fishing village of Florence — home to the best clam chowder in Oregon. Novelli’s Crab & Seafood didn’t disappoint. We enjoyed fresh chowder on the waters edge and watched the crabbers coming back with their haul before getting back on the road.
We took our time and made it up to our lodging for the night: Arch Cape Loft. Tucked on a quiet street with an expansive beach at the end of the gravel road, we pulled up to the lodge marked by cedar shakes, wood burning fireplaces and views of the water from our room. It was the quiet and magical all at once.
One Last Slow Day by the Pacific
Our last day was my favorite. I think it had more to do with us slowing down and staying put than anything else, but it still feels special writing about it now.
A bright sunny morning, we took a minute to catch our breath and sleep in. I heard some rumors that Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach had Puffins and I was determined to see them. We made the short drive over and had a lively discussion about whether or not there were Puffins to be found, but as soon as we got to the beach we saw a decent crowd of people and a red pickup truck marked with the “Haystack Rock Puffin Awareness Program” logo and I knew were in the right place.
We wandered around Haystack Rock all morning searching for puffins, eventually spotting tiny flashes of orange beaks disappearing into burrows high above the tide pools.
Lunch was halibut fish and chips at Ecola Seafood. One of my favorite meals of the entire week. We decided to go for a walk on the beach and as soon as we got there knew we didn’t want to leave. It’s been ages since we went to the beach together and the quiet shoreline and cool breeze sounded heavenly. We did something we rarely give ourselves permission to do. Nothing.
We picked up some provisions for a small campfire, brought our best books and read on the beach for hours waiting for sunset.
As the sun disappeared below the horizon, our campfire slowly flickered to life. Down the shoreline, you could see others enjoying the same evening, a beautiful summer tradition we were lucky enough to take part in. Being by the ocean with nothing but time. That’s a true gift. As the coals dimmed on the fire and we headed back to our little loft for the night I felt warm with gratitude.
Until Next Time
As beautiful as Oregon is, that’s not what I’ll remember most. I’ll remember Harriett handing me a pair of sunflower clogs before pottery. The shelves of books Bob quietly collected over a lifetime outdoors. The sea lion surfacing beside us at dusk. Coffee before sunrise. A beach fire that lasted longer than sunset. And the reminder that some of the best trips aren’t built around destinations at all. They’re built around people. Oregon simply became the backdrop for one of those stories to unfold.
Continue the Journey
If this story has you dreaming about visiting the Oregon coast, I put together the companion piece I wish I’d had before we left.
The Oregon Coast Field Guide includes:
A five-day road trip itinerary from Portland to the southern coast
Where we stayed (and what we’d book again)
Coffee shops, restaurants, and seafood worth planning around
Favorite beaches, hikes, and photography stops
Tide resources, packing notes, and lessons learned from the road
Coming soon for paid subscribers to Field & Home Journal.
Planning Your Own Trip?
I’ve rounded up everything we packed, wore, carried, and brought home—from hiking layers and camera gear to the road trip essentials that came with us every day.