Agate Hunting

This time of year, as opening day of dove season approaches, the High family begin making their plans for the annual family gathering and hunt.  But this year I've discovered a new passion (not that dove hunting was ever an old passion in my book).....agate hunting.
You don't need your gun safety course certificate and you don't have to stop at Walmart to stock up on ammo for an agate hunt.  Just grab a grocery bag and your windbreaker (cause it's always windy on the Oregon coast) and head to the beach. 

Oregon's coastline is blessed with agates just waiting to be discovered.   Any season is agate season but for those willing to be patient, low tide is when the water slides back and treasures are revealed. 

Bullards Beach at Bandon, Oregon is the site of my first agate hunt. 

The beach buffers one side of the Coquille Light House built on the jetty where the Coquille River empties into the Pacific.

An agate is a "rock".  More specifically it is a variety of quartz, mainly chalcedony that is characterized by its fine grain and bright color. They are usually associated with volcanic rock (of which there is an abundance in this area of Oregon). 
Rocks are very plentiful on these beaches , more so than shells and the colors and patterns embedded in their hard surfaces are beautiful.  Now it remains to be seen whether or not I've discovered any agates in my rock collecting adventures. (I've not yet sprung for the handy dandy guide to Oregon gems).  I do know that the colors I see when the wave retreats from the beach bring me joy, consequently I've come home with bags of rocks to fill the bowl on the coffee table. 

When I look at each of these rocks and hold them in my hand looking at their unique pattern of color and design and feeling their smooth surfaces, I am reminded that their beauty has been uncovered because of time spent being tumbled by surf and smoothed by sand. What a life lesson there is in that.

Coffee...nectar of the gods.

Coffee....
Love it.  Black and piping hot and so strong it reaches out of the cup and slaps you in the face...
Cold and creamy with that nutty flavor that calms you down and perks you up all in the same sip...
Frozen and straight from the ice cream carton- just me and  it and a spoon...
At the end of a meal with a dash of some luscious orange or almond flavored liqueur that turns it magically into "dessert in a cup".
Coffee is all these things and more.

As I've visited different areas of the country it's been interesting to observe all the ways in which coffee is presented and the esteem in which it is held.  
In Nashville you don't have to go to far to find a Starbucks or "Starbucks-type" coffee. My taste buds, just as many others, always found security in the chain type coffee houses.   In Columbia, there was no Starbucks to be found so  I tried several "baristas" who proved to be nothing more than wannabes. I did find one little coffee spot that seemed to have a nodding familiarity with how to do the brew and offered up a palatable alternative. 

But here in Oregon, well suffice it to say, the availability of premium coffee has risen to all new and enjoyable heights. Simply said, Oregon is proving to be coffee mecca.
I remember a colleague of mine telling me how his son, who had spent some time in the Northwest, on returning home was appalled at the absence of the independent barista and at John Q. Public's addiction to "chain" brands.  I gave him a quizzical look , being highly offended since I am Jane Q. Public.  But now...I get it. 

In the more populated areas of Oregon (of which there are only a few) you can certainly find the standard Starbuck's which always provide a taste you can count on and a comfy place to sit an compute.
But the supreme delight has been to discover so many independent baristas.  They come in many forms usually little free-standing, drive by kiosks out in a parking lot, but they can also be found in random places on the side of the road, in the middle of an industrial area or even just out in the middle of nowhere. I even spotted one on the sidewalk at the Jerry's (Home Depot type) store.  And, joyfully, all serve up a really great tasting brew.

I've learned that I can count on Oil Can Henry's as a compass for locating a cup of espresso. Oil Can Henry's is one of those quick oil change places.  Every location seems to have some type of coffee dispensary in its lot or attached to it's side.
One thing's for sure, in our travels up and over the back roads of the countryside and through the small towns  and wide-spots in the road of the mountains of Oregon, one thing holds true.  The sign may say "next gas- 50 miles"  but you can bet you're bottom dollar good coffee won't be that hard to find.
Ah, Oregon!!!  You are a people after my own heart!!

Below are of a few of the creative names and locations I've come come across.  There are many more but my husband's patience has rationed me to only so many  "Turn around...I need a picture of that cute little coffee place" kind of stops :)

    The Human Bean
    Supreme Bean
    Brewed Awakening
    Holy Grounds
    Nina's Pony Espresso
    Sweet Beans
    Caffeination Station

   
 

Lava Fields Forever

Everyone says we should see the lava fields.  I've seen the basaltic rock at the beaches but I've never ever heard of fields of lava.  So off we go toward the town of Sisters (named for the 3 Sisters Mountains) on the Old McKenzie Road.  The Old McKenzie is passable only in the summer months and isn't opened for action until July so... lucky us.
On the way we make a stop at Proxy Falls in the Deschutes National Forest.  I really don't know anything about these falls accept they are beautiful and fall from a height of 200 feet.   To get to them we had to cross over what was at one time a lava flow, kind of a trickle from the big deal.

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You go through this dusty bleak area and then come into a green forest floor.  The climb down the the lower pool is kind of tricky but  it's worth it because when you get there you can sit on soft moss and feel the cool mist hitting your face refreshing and reviving you.

Back on the Old Mac, the trek to the lava fields changes drastically from the lush, verdant woods of the forest to what is still, after so many years, a barren, charred wilderness that stretches for miles and miles, really as far as you can see.

The structure above is called Dee Wright Observatory and is built entirely of the lava rock.
The observatory was built in the 1930's by the Civilian Conservation Corp.  By the way, the CCC (created by FDR to give people jobs after the Depression.  Hmmm.....what a novel idea!)  built a lot of things in this area.  Bridge after bridge on the coast highway was built by those folks.  Before that, every time you came to a river emptying into the ocean you had to take a ferry to get to the other side.  That wouldn't work out well for a Type A personality.

The bronze disk looks like a sundial but is kind of like a compass that points to all the surrounding mountain peaks. On a clear day you can see mountains from Portland to near Northern California. Inside the structure are little peepholes and when you stand right in front of one, the peak you are seeing is the one that is listed below the little window. This is really cool for me since I can't seem to figure out which mountain is what.  This area of the Cascade Mountain range has the highest concentration of snow capped volcanos in the lower 48 states. 

At the top of the observatory there are some bicycle guys who are celebrating with high-fives and slaps on the back  the wonderful feat they've just accomplished...the stuff that biking stories are made of they say.   They go on to tell everyone that they've just completed the long climb up this mountain with almost no water becoming very dehydrated and almost passing out when they got here. I'm finding it hard to understand when stupidity left off and the heroic accomplishment began.  Why would seasoned bikers (which I assume they are as they're wearing the spandex to prove it) embark on this kind of  ride without such an essential element?   I just wanna say...."Seriously...what were you thinking?"

All the black rock you see is the leftovers from the surrounding molten gushers.  The "snag" trees are look like silvery ghosts next to the immense blackness.
 The lava rocks are very hard to walk over and I'm amazed that this area could be  traversed with horses and wagons prior to the CCC's road work.