Tsunami Hazard Zone

I love Oregon. It’s a state that I’d spent very little time before this trip, but from snowy Portland (yes, it was snowy there) to the gorgeous wind-swept coast, I developed quite an affinity for it.

We spent one evening at a great comfortable hotel called the Valley River Inn, with a room overlooking the Willamette River. Waking up in the morning to bikers and runners on the riverside trail created such a picturesque morning from the hotel room’s balcony.

I was super excited to get moving because this seemed like such an untouched part of the Pacific coast, and I was so curious what the area would be like. After getting coffee at Dutch Bros (seriously, I want this coffee to be everywhere in the country because I absolutely LOVE it!), we started along the stunning drive on Oregon Route 126 along the Siuslaw River over the coastal range. The weather was perfect – it was sunny, and we had the warmest weather that we’d experienced in quite some time!

We reached Florence, and turned south onto US 101. For the next weeks, we’d be driving on this highway that hugs the entire West Coast. Through the next few towns, I realized that we wouldn’t be hugging the coast, but we’d be driving along a small ridge of mountains. We were surrounded by thick, rich evergreen forests, and every few miles, we would see the green change to brown, as the forest had been harvested for lumber. On occasion, you could barely see the Pacific peeking through trees as we were high above sea level. It’s funny, I assumed that we’d be right along the water the entire time, but sometimes real life is a bit different from maps.

Driving south, we decided to stop for lunch in Coos Bay because there were no choices at all in most of the small coastal towns. I was also curious about Coos Bay, and in my head, all I could picture was a town that was just like Elk Cove, the fictional town from one of my favorite movies, Overboard, with Goldie Hawn (don’t you dare judge my taste in movies). It was probably this movie that made me want to drive along the Oregon coast in the first place.

In Coos Bay, we ate lunch at an authentic German restaurant called the Blue Heron Bistro. By the name, you wouldn’t think it was German, but it was some of the most authentic I’ve had outside of Germany. Jimbo, my partner, lived in Berlin for six years, and he agreed that the food was authentic. He had goulash and I had schnitzel with some delicious, hearty German bread. We even finished with a piece of chocolate cake. Apparently the man who opened the restaurant was a Holocaust survivor of Dutch origin who moved to the Oregon coast after World War 2. There were copies of his book on every table.

We continued meandering down the coast, taking a detour through a charming town called Charleston on a country road, before ultimately reaching Port Orford, where US 101 (finally) starts hugging the coast a bit more closely. There was large bend in the road with welcoming arrows painted on the road that pointed you to an ocean view. The vista did not disappoint; the overlook offered a panoramic view of Port Orford Bay. We saw fishing ships come in, and there was even a cool house for sale on the bluff above – we joked about buying it, and living right there on that beautiful coast. But instead…we continued south to Gold Beach.

Our “home” for the night was the Pacific Reef Hotel, and it was a lovingly restored roadside motel that has added new buildings to be much more of a beach hotel. Upon checking in, we were informed that there would be a tsunami siren that evening. Now, I’ve grown up and lived where we often experienced tornado drills, so I didn’t feel very threatened, but I noticed that Jimbo was a bit more apprehensive, studying the back of the hotel room door for the tsunami evacuation route, and letting me know that we should just run into the hills since everyone would evacuate in cars causing a traffic jam. All along the route, we were weaving through “tsunami hazard zones,” and I didn’t really think anything of it.

My favorite time of day is Golden Hour – that perfect time just before the sun sets when everything is washed in a golden hue of color that gives way to pinks, purples, and blues in the sky. I was insistent that we walk to the beach, and I encouraged Jimbo to join me. Once we neared the shore, the tsunami alarm went off, and it was so much louder than I would have expected. I insisted on staying on the beach to get a few good pictures (aren’t we all hoping for that perfect Insta post?). Fortunately, a tsunami did not rip through the beach!

I realized that living in a place with a constant fear of tsunamis might not be our ultimate “home.” Hearing this loud, obnoxious siren was incredibly disconcerting, but I suppose you might get used to it, if you’d experienced it your whole life! I also realized that after a few months, traveling life isn’t always tranquil. Rather than waves that gently lap the shore, traveling brings out a tsunami of feelings and emotions that you just have to learn to deal with. At times, you weather the emotions by hanging on to a tree for dear life (just like in the movie The Impossible), or sometimes you just have to leave your car behind and run toward the hills.

During this road trip, I’ve been doing a little bit of both. I never really planned on taking this road trip, but I’m learning so much about myself. I’m learning that there is so much of America that I have needed to see and experience, realizing that my native country is rich with scenery and kind people. I’m learning to slow down and experience life by basically driving, reading, writing, and NOT working. (I’ve never NOT worked throughout my entire adult life!) I’m learning that I have to be patient – maybe I’ll find a stable job, and hopefully my family drama back in Georgia will clear up soon, or maybe it will take longer – I’ll just keep trying to be patient. I’m also learning that I can be comfortable with the unknown. I love a beautifully structured plan, but I’m learning that life is about the ride – it’s about weathering the [emotional] tsunami if it hits, but not being rattled when it’s just a warning siren.

So, my “home” in Gold Beach isn’t one where I want to stay forever, but it helped me find a little bit more of myself. And the sunsets are beautiful, if you can just ignore the tsunami siren!