A Piece Of 101 In Wecoma Beach

11I've been in love with the geography of Oregon Coast towns all my life, and it began with LC. 

I was boggled, as a boy, with a town whose population didn't exceed that of my own postage stamp of a burg (Silverton) but somehow managed to have numbered streets as far as 71st in the north and 64th in the south. This, of course, derives from the way LC was formed, as a handful of communities along seven-or-so miles of US 101 in northern Lincoln County came to realize that the whole of Lincoln City would be more than the sum of its parts, and so after some vigorous discussion in the early 1960s, unified and grew from there. 

Even today they retain their historic names: Roads' End (the late-joiner), Wecoma Beach, Oceanlake, Delake, Nelscott, Taft, and Cutler City. The secret to this is, of course, that Lincoln City is long, but not very wide. Even today, while being more than 7 miles from one end to the other, most of the town is less than 3/4s of a mile wide, and the widest part in the north just berely measures a mile and a half in lineal terms. Also, the blocks are fairly small. 

And there's really only one major road from one part of the town to the other. And that's 101. 

Here's part of it in Wecoma.

Twilight At The Edge Of the World in Delake, Oregon

10There is a peculiar and keen feeling one gets when parking at the beach and letting the dark fall about one. You feel, especially if you're aware of Oregon's unique geography, that you're on the edge of the world. Town lights shine out into the darkness to the west, a beacon that few, if any, out on the Pacific, see, and the continent at your back. This is the heart of the Delake district of Lincoln City as darkness fell on the 17th. On the leading edge of summer, darkness fell slowly, but it fell hard, as it does on the Oregon Coast.

The sound of the surf nestled and comforted us; it was a feeling of sparseness but at the same time closeness and comfort. 

Now it's Fujii Time

9The Fujii Farms roadside berry and produce stand at the corner of SE Stark St and Troutdale Road, south end of Troutdale, has opened again for the season.

If you wait until later in the day, though ... you might be out of luck. 

The Willamette Not-Valley

8There's a difference in tone and atmosphere between the part of the Willamette Valley around Portland and the rest of it.

Oregon's Willamette Valley is mostly broad and rolling, with undulating areas of hills and rural farmland that seem to go on forever, and then the foothills of the Coast Range and Cascades happen. As the river bends east before going north again, at Newberg Pool (they actually call it this), it's sinuosity is constrained by hills on each side. As Hwy 99E hugs the river from Canby north into Oregon City, it seems a different place entirely, still Oregon but somehow in a different state entirely.

It's in the Willamette drainage, but, somehow, it's not part of the Willamette Valley. Not really.

As seen from I-205 southbound in West Linn

I mean, I'm not Philip Jose Farmer, but if I were, this would inspire me to write Riverworld. 

Maybe that this is the oldest part of the community we modernly call the State of Oregon, maybe that has something to do with it. 

There Is No Room 13

7There is an utterly charming, basic-basic motel on the Oregon Coast, in Lincoln City, called the Sea Echo Motel, on North Hwy 101 at 35th Street, and we are in love with this modest bit of lodging, and if just being what it was wasn't seductive enough, we found, on leaving the morning after the evening before ...

... there is not a Room 13.

You can ask and ask and ask all you want to book room 13. 

It ain't happenin', chum.

Unicorns. It's an Oregon Thing

6We have said it before and we will say it again;

Portland was built on an ancient unicorn burial ground.

It explains a great deal, you have to admit. 

This is an image I created in Photoshop years ago when I was much better at Photoshop. I see it pop up on the web every now and then and that pleases me.

But if you ever see it; that was me that did it. Yeah, you'll have to take my word for it. But I tell you the truth. 

Junki's Place Is No More

5Out at the end of Stark Street, just before you cross the bridge, there is a thing on the right and a thing on the left. On the right is a wedding venue, very romantic, with trees and waterfalls and a sumptuous building and the gate reads Yoshidas Haven Estate even though it's not called that any more on the web. It's a wedding and event venue.

On the left is a place that, until February, was a fine-dining restaurant called Junki's Riverview Restaurant. The Junki is Junki Yoshida, the man who brought easy Asian sauces to the PNW and beyond, and was reputedly quite the character.

When the Stark Street Bridge re-opened after its closing for reconstruction of the east end, I noted, going through there, that there was a sign on the gate saying it was closed for renovations through March. Now, it just said 'closed'.

The signs proclaiming Riverview Restaurant have been changed to read Sandy River Gardens.

And so it goes. 

It's Almost Fujii Time

4The farmer's roadside stand for Fujii Farms at the corner of Troutdale Road and SE Stark Street has the 'help wanted' up. Roadside produce season will commence soon ...

The last two miles of SE Stark Street are a curious thing. Along the north side, east of Troutdale Road, is a tract of berry field that still grows berries and various produce for the legendary Fujii Farms concern; it's an echo of what must have obtained all along Stark east of Portland before sprawl took over. 

I remember eating a raspberry that my wife gave me when we stopped there one very warm summer day last year or maybe the year before.

The sweetness of that berry was culinary poetry. 

ATC: Halsey Street at Sunset

3The Artist Trading Card I did today was inspired by a picture I took looking west down NE Halsey St at 201st one sunset when I was out with my wife.

Diminishing power poles have always been evocative to me.

The Latest Artist Trading Cards

2I've stumbled into Artist Trading Cards.

I've yearned to be an artist for more than two decades now. Keeping the wolves away from the door takes the spirit out of you, though, and a try ... and a fail ... at becoming a graphic designer (and this was back when QuarkXPress was still huge and InDesign was coming on the scene) that resulted in no change it life trajectory (despite historic pushings on my part) really exhausted me. Ideas that used to flood stopped visiting and for years I carried blank books but never put anything in them.

Loved my art supplies. Always have, always will. 

Latterly, Art Supply Center (locals knew it as I've Been Framed and it kinda still is, but more on that in due course) has encouraged their customers to contribute ATCs. There's a show and swap coming up not too far off my birthday in May, and these are due the 15th of May, but you go there (4950 SE Foster Road) and pick up a free ATC or two and do something to it and turn it in and they'll show it. 

I got one and figured I'd fling one. But a funny thing happened: I did one and six others fell out my fingertips. Has a habit at last been unleashed? I don't know. I've cooled off before after coming on hot.

But here's what I have so far. More as I create them.

Mt. Hood from Stark Street, Trouttdale

First Street, Silverton

The St Johns Bridge

Bobbie the Wonder Dog

Salem's Flag

Haystack Rock

The View from Planet Oregon

1After more than 20 years keeping another blog, I'm changing my angle.

We all have to have an angle. In 2025, that's the planet we're living on. 

Back when I started The Zehnkazen Times, blogs were a way to get known. I didn't exactly achieve that but it was a lot of fun and occasionally something I did almost went viral and people liked it. Made a few friends. Not a total waste of time.

But here, this is going to be about the view from here, not necessarily forging a path but painting a picture. Fewer stylistic pretentions, just plain heart ... the heart of an aging Oregonian.

I'm planting a flower, Let me see if I can grow just one in this life time.