4/25/2006 Tectonic, Turbulent, Taciturn Oregon

Samuel H. Boardman is my newfound hero. First Oregon Parks Superintendent in the early to mid-1900s, he helped preserve the Oregon coasts and found many of Oregon's state parks. Without him, I might never have seen the rocky beaches, rugged headlands, sea lion coves, 40 miles of dunes, natural tide pools, or unspoiled coastline which define Oregon's seaward geography.

But then again, I might never have encountered the guy wearing "Mad Dog Gym" T-shirt while riding his gas-guzzling dune buggy over those preserved dunes. Or woken up to Arctic-like conditions amongst handfuls of RVs. Or eaten a po-boy that tasted like a McDonald's fish-filet at Mo's restaurant on the bay.

Oregon can't be stereotyped. Sometimes it feels like Arkansas transplanted on the Pacific. Rivers cut into the ocean filling some of the world's deepest and cleanest lakes. And the locals speak a slow, simple dialect, giving fishing and geological rarities odd names like "gunkholing" and "spouting horn."

Other times, Oregon feels like a forgotten, uninhabited island ignored by the rest of the world. With more than 300 miles of untouched coastline, uncongested roads, slow-paced drivers, and state parks bisecting nearly every intersection, I constantly have to question why more Californians don't move a little north.

Oregon's secret is best kept by its locals. When's the last time you saw a "visit Oregon" ad campaign? Or knew that Oregon is the last of two states that still requires gas attendants to pump your gas for you? The people can spot a tourist as quickly as a bum can spot loose change. But instead of lunging for your coins, locals give you space, trying not to reveal their secret.

At a campsite hospitality center in Southbeach (midway up the coast), I got two older people to start talking up Oregon. But then they quickly reeled back, saying "we don't want you Californians moving here" in a joking but stringent way. After thinking about it, neither do I. At least, not southern Californians.