Mid-October saw us back at the Oregon coast for a couple of days. Z’s cousins invited us to join them at their beach house south of Newport, and the four of us enjoyed lots of conversation, an evening out watching the harbor’s resident sea lions and eating delicious seafood, and a couple of long walks on this:

We also spent a tranquil couple of hours in our kayaks, paddling the winding stream of Beaver Creek Natural Area. Fall color hadn’t settled onto the trees yet, and it was warm for the season. We saw a lot of bird activity, and I had a lucky glimpse of a five-inch-long Rough-skinned Newt just strolling along the surface of a submerged log as I glided above.

The ocean air was glorious, but as soon as we passed through the mountains on our homeward trip, our eyes began to sting. In our absence, the central Willamette Valley had become blanketed with the all-too-familiar acrid scent and dingy look of smoke-laden air. For several days Portland and the area to the south had air quality high in the “unhealthy” range due to smoke from wildfires in the region. Fortunately, rain–of which we’d had no measurable amount since June–finally arrived at the end of the week, bringing relief to our lungs. And, I hope, help for the firefighters.

Throughout September and early October, summer seemed to have been weirdly extended, leading to a minor case of “time out of joint” on my part. The arrival of autumnal gloom and rain at last thrilled me. More, please.

As the fourth week of September began, Z and I set off on a three-day road trip to the Central Cascades. We drove to Bend by way of Madras, where we had a terrific meal at La Posada, a Mexican place that has never let us down; we eat there any time we pass through that part of Oregon.

After checking into our motel room in Bend, we headed over to the Oregon Badlands Wilderness, about which I had just learned. We set out on a 5-mile, late-afternoon hike. Once we’d gotten past the litter of rusted cans that lined the first half-mile of the trail, the place was quietly beautiful, if less dramatic than the term badlands might suggest: a gently rolling landscape of sand and rock, dotted with desert trees and tree clusters. Several seasonal ponds were almost dry, but there was water here and there in a few channels. We passed just one big feature: a ridge of piled-high lava rocks. The hike took longer than expected due to our leisurely pace and the slowness of walking in deep, loose sand, but we arrived back at the trailhead not long after darkness had fallen and the coyotes had started to yip.

We spent the next day driving the 82-mile loop of the McKenzie-Santiam Scenic Byway, which passes through several types of mountain forest and multiple lava fields, as well as along several rushing rivers. We took in the view from Scott Lake and walked the lava trails at Dee Wright Observatory, a handsome little belvedere perched atop McKenzie Pass.

On the final day we returned to the northern part of the loop to explore the Head of Metolius and Camp Sherman before spending the afternoon in our kayaks on Suttle Lake. After that we headed home by way of Stayton and Silverton so as to turn the trip into a loop and enjoy a country drive. The perfect weather all three days made it an ideal end-of-summer outing.

This past week brought a heatwave to Portland, with multiple triple-digit days. We were lucky to get away to the central Oregon coast for part of it, staying in a beach house south of Newport generously offered by Z’s cousins. The misty scene above is the path through a meadow to the cool, foggy beach on the afternoon of our arrival. I was ecstatic.

The next day, we drove south along the coast as far as Florence, pausing at many viewpoints and waysides to walk on or just gaze out across the beach. From Waldport we headed inland and up into the hills for an hour or two of forest scenery.

In addition to delicious seafood, good sleep, and air so delightfully cool that I wore a light fleece jacket one evening, the trip included a stop at one of my favorite coastal spots, Darlingtonia Natural Site: a bog packed with insectivorous plants.

It was painful to drive back and see the car’s external temperature indicator rise from 65 at the coast to approximately 9,000,000 when we reached the surface of the Sun–er, the Willamette Valley. But the excursion was a welcome reminder that one of the things I love about living in Portland is that the ocean is only 90 minutes away.