When we drove into Seaside the other day it had been dark so I hadn’t been able to see the landscape along side the road. Therefore, I was totally shocked when we headed back to Bend today. For miles and miles one witnesses the most incredible devastation in the forests around Seaside. The gigantic storms that ravaged the Pacific Northwest a few weeks back bashed into the coastal regions first and literally pulverized huge swaths of forest lands. Frankly, I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire life. I saw images of the storm, and its aftermath, on television and in magazines. We heard stories from Bob’s family who lost parts of their roofs to the hurricane force winds. In fact, at Grandma Jackie’s house (where Bob’s parents were staying as caregivers to Jackie during her final days), windows broke, sheds were torn to shreds and the power was out for several days. They had to go to a shelter for a couple of nights because they were out of oxygen, which was keeping Jackie alive, and they needed power to run the machines. It was scary, it was bad, but I just didn’t realize how tremendous it must have been until seeing the results of Mother Earth in a furry. For miles there were hundreds, nay, thousands of trees–small hardwoods and giant evergreens–toppled, snapped and strewn across the valleys and hillsides. I’m guessing they had to cut hundreds of big trees out of the roads to clear them. In fact, the northern towns along the Oregon coast where completely cut off in all directions due to blocked highways and rural routes. In one section there were 20 or so gargantuan fir trees that had crashed to the forest floor, upended at their roots. They all blew down away from the road at pretty much the same angle. In their wake the root-wads stood as much as 25 feet high, forming a wall of mud and roots along the highway. It looked like a barricade surrounding a fortress matchstick trees.

When we drove into Seaside the other day it had been dark so I hadn’t been able to see the landscape along side the road. Therefore, I was totally shocked when we headed back to Bend today. For miles and miles one witnesses the most incredible devastation in the forests around Seaside. The gigantic storms that ravaged the Pacific Northwest a few weeks back bashed into the coastal regions first and literally pulverized huge swaths of forest lands. Frankly, I’ve never seen anything like it in my entire life. I saw images of the storm, and its aftermath, on television and in magazines. We heard stories from Bob’s family who lost parts of their roofs to the hurricane force winds. In fact, at Grandma Jackie’s house (where Bob’s parents were staying as caregivers to Jackie during her final days), windows broke, sheds were torn to shreds and the power was out for several days. They had to go to a shelter for a couple of nights because they were out of oxygen, which was keeping Jackie alive, and they needed power to run the machines. It was scary, it was bad, but I just didn’t realize how tremendous it must have been until seeing the results of Mother Earth in a furry. For miles there were hundreds, nay, thousands of trees–small hardwoods and giant evergreens–toppled, snapped and strewn across the valleys and hillsides. I’m guessing they had to cut hundreds of big trees out of the roads to clear them. In fact, the northern towns along the Oregon coast where completely cut off in all directions due to blocked highways and rural routes. In one section there were 20 or so gargantuan fir trees that had crashed to the forest floor, upended at their roots. They all blew down from the road at pretty much the same angle. In their wake the root-wads stood as much as 25 feet high, forming a wall of mud and roots along the highway. It looked like a barricade surrounding a fortress matchstick trees. 

About 25 miles inland the devastation eased somewhat but another surprise awaited. Four inches of snow had fallen during the night, coating the coast range with an infrequent blanket of white. The summit lay at only 1,650 feet but still there was a thick pile of slush on the road and a berm from the plow of nearly a foot crowned the edges of the tarmac. The going was slow because few drivers in this part of the state have much experience with snow driving. I didn’t mind the sluggish pace, however, because the countryside was so spectacular that I wanted to wade through it slowly. Fog and white-barked alders sifted beside the creek that rushes alongside the road. Snow and dapples of sunlight enhanced the black and white tableau. It made for a mythical scene and I kept watching for a white, winged unicorn to prance through the forest and splash in the creek.

Once we dropped out of the low mountains and entered Portland the mundane prevailed. As expected, there was new snow going over the Cascades but the Honda, with its studded tires, performed admirably. Most people had to put chains on but not us. We skipped home easily; seldom going less than 50 mph except when stuck behind other cars crawling along. The view of Mt. Hood-shrouded in a skirt of clouds and flanked by fir-covered hills-was spectacular as usual.