I’m back home now in Copenhagen after a whirlwind four weeks on the West Coast of the United States. Visiting, hugging, laughing, loving friends and family in my from. It was truly a family festival of fun chock full of veritable iconic Oregon summertime magic. I’ve already shared some of it with our Oregon Coast time crabbing. Miss it? Don’t be crabby – you can catch it here. Today, I want to share another of my mostest favoritest things to do in Oregon when you find yourself there at the peak of the season’s ripeness. Let’s go berry picking.
Insert Catchy Crab Post here…
Three hours before high tide. We’ve checked the boat. It still starts. That’s key. We load it up with rings, pots and boxes. We’re going crabbing. On the Oregon Coast. Yes – you heard me. OREGON. Oregon Girl and crew are back around the world for a month visiting family and friends. In Oregon. It’s a little surreal. In the best way. Don’t worry Denmark, we’ll be back. But for now, we’re soaking up, tasting, seeing, hugging all those things and people that we missed. It’s good.
Have you been crabbing? I have done this in Oregon as long as I can remember living here. Maine may have lobstahs, but here on the Pacific Northwest Coast, we hunt Dungeness Crab. Growing up in Eugene – a university town that sits mid-state off Interstate 5 in western Oregon – we frequent the central Oregon coast between the little towns of Florence and Newport. And we’re more than lucky that my mom loves sharing her coast house. We spend most of our time in charming and quirky, but oh so cozy Yachats. (Don’t call it Yeah-chats. It’s YAH-hots. It’s a Native American thing. Siletz tribe to be exact. It translates loosely to “dark water at the foot of the mountain.” Speaking my language.)
Summer break is almost here and maybe Norway is on your list. If you haven’t taken the overnight ferry from Copenhagen to Oslo – that is a trip in and of itself. But Norway really shines outside the capital. Ride along as I revisit our train trip from Oslo to fjord country… this is Norway by rail.
Wending along in the eighth of ten cars, feeling the pull and sway along the tracks. Remarkably insulated from the bracing sound of metal wheels upon steel rails. Infrequent is the clickety clacking one most associates with this mode of travel. I love riding the train.