Florence, Oregon

I was looking up what happened on this date in my family's history, and I learned that it was five years to the day that we were on vacation visiting friends in Florence, Oregon, a coastal town. We went up to Florence on the 22nd then journeyed back home on the 25th, and the friends we visited were two of the people who went on the rafting trip with us. We did not sleep at our friends' house, rather, we slept in a cabin they owned, located a mile or so away from their home.

Our trip consisted of visiting old-town Florence, going to the beach, watching sea lions, and going on house tour. The house tour was first on the list (although it occurred on the second day, as we spent the first day traveling), and it involved looking at the various styles of homes in the town: originally, we thought we were going to look at three or four houses in the space of an hour, but instead it ended up being several houses (I do not remember the exact amount) over the course of five hours! After the tour we spent an hour or so in old-town Florence, and bought a couple of kites for when we went onto the beach (there was a nice breeze at this point).

On the next day we went (without our friends) to Strawberry Hill, a place to watch the sea lions go about their daily life; then we had a look at a few manufactured houses before lunch. Afterwards, we met up with our friends on the beach and spent the entire afternoon there. My Dad and brother attempted to fly the kites we had purchased the day before, but amazingly, the wind was not strong enough to sustain the kites, despite us being on the beach. Once it became clear they were not going to be able to fly the kites properly, they put them away and we all went on a long walk on the beach. We had dinner at our friends' house last night, and they had invited a couple of their other friends over as well (they were two more of the six people Dad and I went rafting with three years prior).

The proceeding day was when we went back home. It was a fairly uneventful journey back, although we drove through a town called Coos Bay, and were glad we never stayed there (my grandparents, brother, and I were going to vacation there in 2003, but my parents drove through it and said that the hotel we would have stayed in was sandwiched between traffic). We also drove past another town, this one called Bandon, which was where we ended up going to that year instead: I am sure I can cover Bandon in another post.

I have fond memories of our trip to Florence, though there are three parts that, to this day, stand out for me: one was in the store where we bought the kites; a Shania Twain song played on the radio, and I remarked to Dad that it was her. Another was whenever we traveled in our truck around Florence, as we had our windows open, and I loved the feeling of sunshine combined with a breeze blowing into the vehicle. Finally, the third part was at the last house we visited on the tour; it was located in a neighborhood on top of a mountain overlooking Florence. From the balcony beheld a spectacular and far-reaching view of Florence, the ocean, the other mountains and houses, and the sunset. As I am writing this I can almost feel as though I am on that balcony again, taking in the scene.

I would be glad to go to Florence again: whenever I get the chance to come back to Oregon, it would be good to fit in a trip to the coast. That Florence trip is currently the most recent time I have been to the actual coast of the western US, as well as the most recent time I have even been to any coast in general.