Fall in Oregon: My 10-Day Pacific Northwest Adventure

Sometimes the best trips begin because someone else goes somewhere interesting.

In November 2025, my daughter, who is a travel nurse, accepted an assignment in Portland, Oregon—a very long way from our home base in central Ohio. While I’m sure there were plenty of reasonable motherly reactions I could have had to my daughter moving clear across the country for work, one of mine was basically: Oregon? I want to see stuff!

I had never been to Oregon, and the Pacific Northwest had been calling my name for a long time. Giant trees, mountains, waterfalls, rocky coastline—I was in. Having my daughter there made it even better. Not only would I get to spend time with her, but I had my own personal Portland connection and, perhaps most importantly for my travel budget, a free place to stay.

There was just one small matter to figure out. How was I going to get there?

Getting to Oregon Was an Adventure of Its Own

I could have flown. Instead, I decided it would be much more interesting to spend nearly three days crossing the country by train. Because apparently that sounded like a good idea.

My Amtrak journey began in Cleveland with a train scheduled to depart at approximately 4:00 in the morning. Tell me that doesn’t sound at least a little sketchy. I drove from home to my sister’s house in Canton, left my car there and caught an Uber around midnight to downtown Cleveland. By myself.

The Amtrak station sits near Cleveland Browns stadium, and there was a gorgeous full moon that night. I managed to get an amazing picture of the moon hanging over the stadium. And I remember looking at it and thinking:

I just wish they were good. This picture would be so much better.

What can I say? I’m a Factory of Sadness alum. We cope with humor.

The Cleveland Amtrak station was small, it was the middle of the night, and yes, the whole situation felt a little sketchy. But I had decided I was going to Oregon. So I got on the train.

The first train took me to Chicago, where I had about a five-hour layover before boarding the train that would carry me all the way to Portland. By the time I arrived at Chicago Union Station, I was hangry. Not slightly hungry. Hangry. I was also developing a massive headache, and my first priorities were very clear: charge my phone, AirPods and iPad. Then EAT.

Unfortunately, finding somewhere to plug everything in was turning into a project of its own. I finally bought something to eat from a little sandwich shop and discovered an outlet nearby that was normally locked—but for whatever reason, that day it wasn’t. So there I was. Sitting on the floor outside a sandwich shop in Chicago Union Station, charging my electronics, eating my food and trying not to let myself get overwhelmed.

It was not one of my finer travel moments.

I was in a little bit of distress, but I didn’t call anyone back home. There wasn’t anything they could do from Ohio anyway, and I knew I could handle it. I just needed to calm myself down, eat, charge my stuff and figure out the next thing.

And then someone noticed me.

An Amtrak employee, probably in his late twenties, walked by and asked if I needed help. I explained that I was okay—I really just needed somewhere to charge everything. His response was simple.

“I got you.”

He helped me up and took me to a lounge that wasn’t really intended for passengers traveling on a regular coach ticket like mine. Because of him, they let me in anyway. For the next couple of hours, instead of sitting on the floor beside an outlet, I sat comfortably in the lounge, charged everything I needed to charge and waited for my train.

It sounds like such a small thing. It wasn’t.

I had tears in my eyes when I thanked him. He didn’t know me. He didn’t have to stop. He certainly didn’t have to go out of his way to help me. But he did. I don’t know his name, and I’ll probably never see him again, but I will never forget that young man or how his kindness made me feel that day.

Travel gives you beautiful places to remember. Sometimes it gives you beautiful people, too.

Two Nights in Coach on the Empire Builder

From Chicago, I boarded Amtrak’s Empire Builder, which travels from Chicago across the northern United States before splitting in Spokane for Seattle or Portland. The Portland route travels through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota and Montana, passes Glacier National Park, and eventually follows the Columbia River Gorge through Washington toward Portland.

I went coach. Before anyone gets an overly romantic vision of me sleeping peacefully while the train rocked gently through the American West, let me clear that up. It wasn’t that comfortable. I knew it wouldn’t be.

Fortunately, there were enough empty seats that I was able to claim two to myself. I had my little travel pillow, stretched out as best I could and slept when I could. I napped. I watched shows on my iPad. I wandered around. But most of the time, I ended up in my favorite place on the entire train: the observation car.

With huge windows wrapping up toward the ceiling, it was made for doing exactly what I had come there to do. Look.

Somewhere along the way, I met another woman who was traveling on her own, and we ended up spending much of the trip together. We talked. And talked. We watched the scenery. She had been to Portland before, so she gave me ideas for things to see once I arrived. And mile after mile, we watched America change outside those enormous windows.

There were wide-open plains that seemed to go on forever. Dramatic rock formations appeared where flat land had been. I watched incredible sunrises and sunsets from the train.

And there was something else I hadn’t expected to appreciate quite so much. For almost three days, I didn’t have to do anything. There was no house to clean. Nowhere I needed to drive. Nothing around me demanding my attention. Internet reception wasn’t particularly reliable, so even disappearing down an online rabbit hole wasn’t much of an option.

I could nap when I was tired. Watch something when I felt like it. Talk to my new friend. Or sit in the observation car and stare out the window for hours.

For three days, I got to just be.

Looking back, I think that was one of my favorite parts of taking the train.

There was one major disappointment. The Empire Builder passes right by Glacier National Park in Montana.

Glacier National Park!

I had been looking forward to seeing it from the train. There was only one problem with this brilliant plan. It was November. By the time we passed through the area, it was around 8:00 at night and completely dark.

I saw basically nothing.

Big. Bummer.

But the train redeemed itself as we got closer to Portland. After Spokane, the Portland portion of the Empire Builder heads through Washington and follows the Columbia River Gorge toward Portland.

And THIS time, I could see.

The landscape had completely transformed. Mountains rose around the river, their tops disappearing into mist and low clouds. Evergreen forests covered the slopes, with pockets of yellow, orange and rust proving that fall wasn’t quite finished yet. The river stretched beside us while rocky cliffs and little tree-covered islands appeared through the mist.

It was moody. It was wild. It was absolutely gorgeous.

And after almost three days on a train, I was finally entering the Pacific Northwest.

Somewhere ahead of me was Portland. My daughter was waiting.

And the Oregon adventure I had traveled all the way across the country to have was about to begin.

My First Days in Portland — With a Little Grimm on the Side

When the Empire Builder finally pulled into Portland on Thursday around 11:30 a.m., my daughter Crystal was there to pick me up. After almost three days on a train, I had officially made it to Oregon! She took me back to the place she was staying, showed me around, and then we headed to the store to stock up on a few things for my visit. There wasn’t much time for sightseeing that first day because Crystal had to work that night. As a travel nurse, she was working 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., so I helped her get her lunch together while she got ready for work, and then she was off. That actually worked out just fine for me. Portland is three hours behind Ohio, my body had absolutely no idea what time it was anymore, and after nearly three days of train travel, some much-needed rest sounded pretty wonderful.

The next morning, Crystal came home from work and needed to sleep, which left me with her car and an entire day to entertain myself. Fortunately, I had something in mind that I knew would interest me considerably more than it would interest her.

I went looking for Grimm.

If you’ve never watched Grimm, the television series was set and filmed in Portland, and I loved the show. My son Jake watched it too, so before my trip I had looked up some of the filming locations I could visit while I was there. Jake also had a brilliant suggestion: while I explored, I should put in my AirPods and listen to music from the show.

My first stop was Forest Park, where a number of scenes from Grimm were filmed. And honestly, even if I’d never heard of the show, I would have loved it there. This was my first real chance to walk through a Pacific Northwest forest, and it just felt different from the woods back home. Everything was unbelievably green. Moss covered the trees. Ferns seemed to grow everywhere—including right out of the tree trunks—and the remnants of fall covered the trails in yellow, orange and brown leaves.

Then I put in my AirPods and turned on the Grimm music.

Okay. THAT changed things.

Suddenly I wasn’t simply a woman from Ohio wandering around Forest Park by herself. I was a woman from Ohio wandering around a slightly eerie, moss-covered forest listening to music from Grimm in a place where Grimm had actually been filmed. 😂 It was creepy in the best possible way, and I loved every minute of it. I’m pretty sure Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he suggested it.

From there, my self-guided Grimmy tour continued. I found Monroe’s house, and then Nick and Juliette’s house, which I was determined to photograph properly. I even parked the car and walked down the sidewalk so I could get a better picture. If you’re going to stalk fictional characters’ houses, you might as well commit to the experience.

Next I headed to Reed College, another location I had found while researching places connected to the show. I couldn’t actually remember the particular scenes that had been filmed there once I arrived, but by then it didn’t matter very much. I wandered around the campus, crossed a bridge over the water and took in the fall scenery. The trees were still brilliant shades of yellow, orange and red, and it was simply a beautiful place to explore.

At some point I also drove into downtown Portland to find the little coffee shop I remembered from the show. I found it! I also kept driving. Downtown traffic is not my favorite thing, parking didn’t look particularly inviting, and there was absolutely no chance I was going to parallel park. I don’t parallel park. I stubbornly refuse to even try. We all have our boundaries. 😂

My final stop of the day was Tryon Creek State Natural Area, where I got another dose of the scenery I was quickly falling in love with. More enormous trees. More moss. More ferns. More green layered over the remaining colors of fall. By the time I finished there, I had spent most of the day happily roaming around Portland by myself while Crystal slept after her overnight shift.

It probably wasn’t the typical first-day-in-Portland itinerary. It was, however, a very me itinerary.

That evening, after a full day of exploring Portland on my own, I settled in for a quiet night at Crystal’s place while she headed off for another 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift. My Ohio-time-zone body didn’t mind one bit. 😂

My First Oregon Sunset — From the Top of a Volcano

Saturday got off to a much slower start. Crystal had worked another overnight shift and didn’t get home until after 8 a.m., which meant she understandably needed to sleep. That was fine with me. I had brought my laptop along and had some work to catch up on anyway, so while she slept, I worked from her apartment. By the time she was rested enough for us to start rolling, the November afternoon was already disappearing. One thing about Oregon in November: if you’re going to see a sunset, you don’t have to stay out very late to do it.

We headed toward Mt. Tabor Park, and somewhere along the way, something happened that I still remember so clearly. We were just driving along the highway, talking, when suddenly I saw it.

Mt. Hood.

I actually gasped.

There it was in the distance, enormous and snow-covered, rising above everything else like it had absolutely no business being part of an ordinary drive through town. Coming from Ohio, that’s not something you just casually see while you’re riding down the road. I think Crystal was probably slightly more accustomed to the sight by then, but I certainly wasn’t.

“Oh my God. Is that Mt. Hood?”

It was my first real I’m-in-Oregon moment. I’d already crossed the country by train, wandered through enormous trees and seen plenty of beautiful things, but seeing that mountain for the first time was different. It stopped me in my tracks—or at least would have, had I not been sitting in a moving car.

And as it turned out, Mt. Hood wasn’t finished with me yet.

Our destination was Mt. Tabor Park, and here’s something I didn’t know before visiting: Mt. Tabor is actually an extinct volcanic cinder cone. So yes, we were going to climb a volcano to watch my first Oregon sunset. Because apparently that’s just a perfectly normal Saturday activity in Portland. The 176-acre park is filled with towering trees, wooded trails and historic reservoirs, and from its higher points you can see across Portland and, on a clear day, all the way to Mt. Hood.

We drove partway up and then walked the rest of the way toward the summit. And once again, Oregon was showing off. Huge evergreens towered above us, the ground was covered in fallen leaves, and those enormous trees that I’d already become slightly obsessed with were everywhere. There are actually more than 50 kinds of trees growing in Mt. Tabor Park, including Douglas firs and a heritage sequoia.

Then, through an opening in the trees, there it was again: Mt. Hood, snow-covered and perfectly framed by Oregon’s fall colors.

LOVE.

Seriously. Look at that picture.

We made our way to the summit as the sun began dropping, and the whole sky started changing. Orange appeared along the horizon, then pink, coral and purple spread across the clouds while the lights of Portland began coming on below us. Crystal and I wandered among the enormous trees taking pictures and watching the whole thing unfold.

It was my first Oregon sunset, and Oregon did not disappoint.

And I’m especially glad I got to experience it with Crystal. She hadn’t been in Oregon very long herself, but from the beginning she was incredibly accommodating about taking me everywhere I wanted to go and letting me experience as much as possible. There would be a lot more of that over the next several days, but standing together among those giant trees watching the sun disappear over Portland is one of those memories with my daughter that I treasure.

Once the sun was gone, we had another very important Portland experience to attend to:

Food carts.

Except Portland doesn’t just have an occasional food truck sitting somewhere. Food carts are practically part of the city’s personality, and many of them gather together in permanent groups called pods, where you can wander around and choose from completely different kinds of food in one place. Portland has hundreds of food carts, with pods scattered throughout the city.

So after watching the sunset from the top of an extinct volcano—still a sentence I enjoy saying—we headed to a food cart pod for dinner. I don’t remember exactly what we ate that night, but I remember loving the whole concept. Different little kitchens, different cuisines, all gathered together in one spot.

It felt very Portland.

And after a slow start to the day, we’d managed to fit in my first sight of Mt. Hood, a walk to the top of an extinct volcano, a spectacular Oregon sunset, and dinner from one of Portland’s famous food cart pods.

Not bad for a Saturday that didn’t really get started until late afternoon.

Multnomah Falls, Scaredy-Cat Heights and a Very Dark Mt. Hood

Sunday started with a questionable decision. Crystal and I decided to watch the Browns game.

In Ohio, we’re accustomed to settling in for a 1 p.m. game. In Oregon, kickoff was at 10 o’clock in the morning, which just felt wrong. Apparently the Browns thought so too, because they rewarded our dedication with an embarrassing loss. In hindsight, we probably should have skipped it altogether. We should have known better.

Fortunately, watching your football team lose before lunch has one advantage: you still have the entire day to recover. 😂 And we had a pretty spectacular recovery planned.

We headed out to Multnomah Falls, and this would become one of the absolute highlights of my first trip to Oregon. I’d seen pictures before we went, of course, but they don’t really prepare you for seeing it in person. Multnomah Falls drops a total of 620 feet in two major tiers, surrounded by steep cliffs and the thick green forest of the Columbia River Gorge.

It was gorgeous.

We started by climbing the stairs and trail to the bridge in front of the falls, where the views became even better—and where my occasional fear of heights decided to make an appearance. I’ve always known I have a tendency to be afraid of heights. The strange thing is that I’m not always afraid of them, so I never quite know when it’s going to hit.

This time, it hit.

Yikes.

Standing on that bridge with the falls thundering behind us was incredible, but looking down was another matter entirely. Everything was wet from the spray. The bridge was wet. We were wet. The surrounding rocks and greenery were wet. It felt as though Multnomah Falls simply sprayed everything within reach.

And I loved it.

Then we made a decision. We were going to the top. How bad could it be?

Famous last words.

The trail seemed to go uphill forever, winding back and forth as we climbed higher above the Columbia River Gorge. It was tiring for me. Really tiring. We stopped plenty of times along the way, partly because I needed to catch my breath and partly because the higher we climbed, the more beautiful the views became. Looking out over the Columbia River from up there was spectacular.

At one point, though, I seriously considered turning around. I’d had enough. I was tired, we still had farther to go, and going back down sounded considerably more appealing than continuing uphill.

But I kept going.

I am SO glad I did.

Because when we finally reached the top, it felt as though we’d walked into another world. We found ourselves surrounded by this beautiful forest, with a wide, rushing stream of water tumbling over and around big rocks on its way toward the falls. After spending the entire hike looking at Multnomah Falls from below and beside it, suddenly we were standing beside the water that was about to plunge more than 600 feet into the gorge.

It was breathtaking.

And then there was the viewing platform. Oh boy.

The platform extends out near the top of the falls, giving you a view straight down into the gorge. And apparently my fear of heights had decided it wasn’t finished with me yet.

Crystal was considerably braver than I was. She walked out and took a video looking down as the water disappeared over the edge.

I did not need to get that close.

I got close enough. 😂

Scared or not, though, standing at the top after nearly convincing myself to turn around made the whole experience even better. I had made it. And everything we’d seen along the way—the falls, the forest, the Columbia River, the rushing water and those views from the top—made every exhausting uphill step worth it.

By the time we made our way back down, daylight was beginning to disappear. Which is when I had another brilliant idea.

Maybe we could make it up Mt. Hood before sunset and see Timberline Lodge.

I’m a fan of The Shining, and Timberline Lodge was used for exterior shots of the fictional Overlook Hotel in Stanley Kubrick’s movie. The interiors were filmed elsewhere, but that unmistakable exterior really is Timberline.

So naturally, I wanted to see it.

Off toward Mt. Hood we went. There was just one small problem: darkness.

By the time we got up into Mt. Hood National Forest, it was pitch black. And I don’t mean city-dark. I mean forest-on-the-side-of-a-mountain dark.

We couldn’t see a thing.

After everything we’d already done that day, we finally admitted defeat. Timberline Lodge wasn’t going anywhere. We’d have to try again another day. So we turned around, found something to eat and headed home for the night.

We may have started Sunday with an embarrassing Browns loss and ended it unsuccessfully searching for a famous hotel in complete darkness, but everything in between?

Absolutely spectacular.

Multnomah Falls had already earned a place among my favorite experiences of the entire trip—and I was very, very glad I hadn’t turned around before reaching the top.

A Short Monday — Two Rivers, One Famous Bridge and an Old Tree Friend

Apparently Crystal’s employer did not care that her MOTHER was visiting from Ohio, because she had to work again Monday night. 😂 Since she needed time to get ready for another 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift, we knew this would have to be a shorter sightseeing day.

We started at Kelley Point Park, and this was the place I remembered as being where the two rivers meet. Kelley Point sits at the confluence of the Willamette and Columbia Rivers, along with the Columbia Slough. After seeing both rivers separately during the trip, there was something pretty cool about standing at the place where they actually come together.

And then I spotted an old friend.

A larch tree!

If you read about my New England trip, you may remember my fascination with the larches—the unusual conifers that turn yellow in the fall and then lose their needles. Well, apparently I wasn’t finished with them yet, because there was another one waiting for me in Oregon.

And yes, it was yellow.

Of course I took a picture. 😂

We wandered through Kelley Point Park, enjoyed the river views and fall scenery, and then headed to Cathedral Park, which sits along the Willamette River directly beneath the St. Johns Bridge.

The funny thing was that I’d already seen the bridge a few days earlier when I was exploring Forest Park. I just didn’t know it was famous! From that side of the river, it had simply been a very pretty bridge that happened to appear during my Grimmy adventure. Now I was standing underneath it and finally knew what I was looking at.

And it really is beautiful. The St. Johns Bridge has these enormous Gothic-looking towers, and from Cathedral Park you can walk beneath the huge concrete arches that give the park its name. We took a little hike, enjoyed the remaining fall colors and wandered along the river for a while. It was a quieter kind of sightseeing than some of our other days, but that was exactly what we needed with Crystal having to work that evening.

Eventually we had to call it a day so Crystal could get ready for work. It wasn’t one of our marathon sightseeing days, but between standing where two major rivers meet, unexpectedly finding another yellow larch tree and seeing the St. Johns Bridge up close, we managed to squeeze quite a bit into our abbreviated Monday.

Apparently even when Crystal’s employer was interfering with my vacation plans, Oregon still found ways to entertain me. 😂

Sunset, Powell’s and Our Never-Ending Portland Loop

Tuesday was another late-start day because Crystal had worked the night before and needed to get some sleep. By mid-afternoon, though, she was rested enough to go. Before heading to Council Crest Park for sunset, we made a quick detour through Tryon Creek State Natural Area. I’d already explored it on my Grimmy day, but it was such a beautiful little piece of Portland that I certainly didn’t mind seeing it again—this time with Crystal. From there, we headed to Council Crest to catch the sunset.

Council Crest sits 1,073 feet above sea level and is one of the highest public points in Portland. On a clear day, you can apparently see not only Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens from there, but Mt. Adams, Mt. Jefferson and even Mt. Rainier.

We saw exactly none of them. 😂

The mountains weren’t cooperating that day, but Council Crest was still beautiful. We wandered around the park, took in the views over Portland and watched as the sun began to disappear. By this point in the trip, I’d already learned that Oregon didn’t necessarily have to give me the view I’d gone looking for in order to give me something beautiful anyway.

From there, we headed into downtown Portland. One place I definitely wanted to see was Powell’s City of Books. As both a reader and an author, obviously a gigantic bookstore was going to make my Portland list. We spent some time wandering through Powell’s before finding some Mexican food downtown for dinner.

I also had another very specific goal for the evening. I wanted pictures of the Portland city lights reflecting in the Willamette River. Or, as I called it, the Williamette River. Here’s the thing. When I first saw Willamette written down, my brain apparently inserted an extra i, and I read it as Williamette. So that’s what I called it. Crystal thought that’s how it was pronounced too. Until she went to work and called it Williamette. Someone corrected her. 😂 I didn’t find out until several months later that there was no i in Willamette. Oops. At this point, I still call it Williamette half the time. Crystal knows what I mean.

Anyway, Crystal and I were determined to find THE perfect spot along the river for my nighttime pictures. We could see this little park right beside the water that looked as though it would give us exactly the view I wanted. We just couldn’t figure out how to get into it. GPS knew where it was. We knew where it was. We could SEE the darn thing. And yet somehow we kept driving right past it, crossing the same bridge, following GPS around another loop and ending up right back on the same bridge. Again and again. 😂 There seemed to be absolutely nowhere to turn into the park, despite GPS repeatedly insisting that this was somehow our route. Eventually it became one of those situations where you start laughing because you realize you’re doing the exact same ridiculous thing over and over again and apparently neither you nor the navigation system has any better ideas.

By then it was completely dark, we were driving around downtown Portland, and we finally decided that perhaps THE perfect little riverside park was not worth pursuing any longer.

Strange city. Enough said. 😂

We did eventually find another place to pull in along the river. It was a little out of the way and felt just sketchy enough to make us question our decision—but it offered a beautiful view of the city lights across the water. And then, as we pulled in, a BIG rat ran by. That rattled Crystal considerably more than it rattled me. I still laugh about it. 😂

Rat or no rat, I got my pictures. We eventually managed to photograph the city lights from both sides of the Willamette—Williamette—whatever river, with Portland glowing across the water and the lights reflecting below. Mission accomplished.

Between a mountain viewpoint with no mountains, a giant bookstore, Mexican food, repeatedly crossing the same bridge while trying to find a park that apparently had no entrance, and one very large Portland rat, Tuesday turned out to be another adventure. Not necessarily the adventure we’d planned, but by this point, I was beginning to realize those were often the best ones.

The Oregon Coast — And Saving the Best for Last

For my last full day in Oregon, we decided to go to the coast. Cannon Beach was about a two-hour drive from where Crystal was staying, and neither of us was going to let a little November weather stop us. When we arrived, it was chilly and windy, and there weren’t many people around. Cannon Beach definitely had the feel of a summer beach town that had mostly gone to sleep for the season, which honestly made it even better. We practically had the place to ourselves.

And then there was that rock.

I had absolutely no idea Haystack Rock was famous. 😂 I just knew there was an enormous rock sticking out of the ocean and obviously I needed to get as close to it as possible. Haystack Rock rises 235 feet from the edge of the shoreline and is one of the most recognizable landmarks on the Oregon Coast. At low tide, you can walk right up toward it and explore the tidepools around its base.

The tide was down while we were there, so off I went. I walked across the wet sand as close to Haystack Rock as I could and got my picture. Mission accomplished. Then I started walking back toward the beach.

This is where my understanding of tides could apparently have used a little work.

Suddenly the water came rushing back in around me and went halfway up my legs. Boots soaked. Socks soaked. Pants soaked. Everything soaked.

My bad. 😂

Cold, wet legs and all, Cannon Beach was beautiful. The enormous rock formations, the waves, the nearly empty beach and that wild November sky made it feel completely different from any beach I’d visited before. It wasn’t exactly lounging-on-the-sand weather, but that wasn’t what I’d come to Oregon for anyway.

From Cannon Beach, we headed south toward Tillamook, because we’d been told Tillamook was a place we should see.

Why? 😂

Okay, I’m being a little unfair. The Tillamook Creamery is actually a pretty big attraction, and you can tour the facility, watch cheese being made and learn about the farms and dairy production. Crystal and I just weren’t particularly interested in taking a cheese tour that day. And outside? Well, let’s just say there are a lot of dairy cows in Tillamook County, and our noses were very aware of that fact.

We did eat there, though, and the pizza was pretty good! I also found a few Christmas gifts in the gift shop, so the stop certainly wasn’t wasted. The funny thing is that after coming home, I suddenly started noticing Tillamook cheese and ice cream everywhere. Apparently it had been in stores all along and I’d simply never paid attention to it. Now every time I see that Tillamook label, I think, Hey! I’ve been there.

After Tillamook, we didn’t have much of a plan. We just started driving along the Oregon Coast. I had told Crystal there was one thing I really wanted to find: I wanted trees and ocean together.

Oh, we found it.

We stopped at several beautiful places along the way, and every time I thought, This is it. This is what I wanted to see. The Pacific stretched out beside us, forested hills rose above the water, and the coastline just kept getting more dramatic.

And then Crystal found THE place.

She spotted an overlook near Neahkahnie Mountain and pulled over. I got out of the car, walked over to the view and…

Oh. My. God.

Have you ever seen something so beautiful that for a moment you can’t quite comprehend what you’re looking at? Something that actually stops you in your tracks because your brain needs a second to catch up with your eyes?

That was Neahkahnie Mountain for me.

We were high above the Pacific, looking down from the mountainside toward the ocean far below. Trees covered the slopes around us and stretched toward the coastline, and beyond them was that enormous expanse of water. It was exactly what I’d told Crystal I wanted to find—trees and ocean together—only so much more beautiful than whatever picture I’d had in my head.

I was speechless. And if I’m being truthful, I almost had a tear in my eye.

It was that beautiful.

We stood there for a long time taking pictures, but no photograph could quite capture what it felt like to stand there and see it in person. Of all the beautiful things I’d seen during those ten days, that view affected me in a way I wasn’t expecting. It is still one of the first images that comes to mind when I think about Oregon.

Eventually we had to pull ourselves away. We headed back toward Portland, grabbed some Taco Bell and called it a night. Nothing glamorous. Just Taco Bell after one of the most beautiful days of the entire trip. 😂 And the next morning, it was time for me to go home.

Saying goodbye to Crystal at the Portland airport was hard. There were tears. Then, somewhere inside the airport, I spotted a picture of Mt. Hood hanging on the wall. After all the mountains, waterfalls, enormous trees, moss-covered forests, city lights, ocean views, one very large rat, one embarrassing Browns game, one failed nighttime trip up Mt. Hood and more than a few adventures we hadn’t exactly planned, somehow that picture felt like one final little goodbye from Oregon.

What a trip.

And someday, years from now, I hope Crystal reads this. I hope she knows that these trips with her have meant more to me than I probably ever manage to say in the moment. We didn’t get along every single second—because we are, after all, a mother and daughter, and let’s not get ridiculous. 😂 But none of that is what I carry with me when I think about this trip.

I remember her picking me up at the train station. I remember her taking me everywhere I wanted to go even while working overnight shifts. I remember us climbing to the top of Multnomah Falls, watching the sunset from Mt. Tabor, driving in circles through Portland, laughing, exploring, getting lost and finding places more beautiful than either of us expected.

And I remember standing beside my daughter high above the Pacific Ocean at Neahkahnie Mountain, looking at a view so beautiful that neither words nor pictures could really do it justice.

Those are the things I will remember.

And Crystal, if you’re ever reading this when I’m no longer here to tell you myself: our time together was very, very special to me. I treasured it then, I treasure it now, and I will always treasure the memories we made together.