​The only thing better than enjoying the scenery is watching Tucker enjoy the scenery. 

He gets most excited in the same places I do. He was up and alert during most of our southern journey through Oregon. I was following the same route I had taken on my own less than three weeks before meeting my boy in 2013, except I hadn’t stopped in Seaside or Cannon Beach that time. I had been focused on the Redwood Forest in California. Unfortunately, California is not as dog friendly in their hiking as Oregon is so although some of my path was the same, my journey was different because this time Tucker was leading.
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There are no rest stops on the 101 in Oregon. However, you really don’t need them, as the 101 turns into Main Street a number of times in different towns along the way should you need a restroom or gas station. As for Tucker’s needs, there are parking lots on the side of the road for parks with views like this:

We only drove about seven hours to Brookings, Oregon that day so we could stay in Oregon, the State of Dog Friendly Hiking. I will never understand California Parks’ regulations of allowing dogs at campsites but not on the trails. Do they expect your dog to be reading a novel and making dinner for you while you hike all day in the vast, beautiful wilderness?

I found a Best Western also on the ocean (now matter where we went, it would be a step down from the previous two nights, but I was taking a slow decent to normal.) Again, arriving after dark, I could hear the ocean, and I saw some fires on the beach, but aside from a few waves, I had no visual map of where I was.
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In the morning, Tucker and I awoke to this:

​It’s a balcony… about four feet off the ground. But it overlooks the ocean which you get to via the private beach. 

​Unfortunately the weather was just about catching up with us. The storm I was trying to avoid on I-5 was just hitting the coast headed in that direction. On the ocean level it was just rain, but enough that although the Vancouver jacket sufficed for a morning walk on the beach, I really didn’t want to go for a hike for a few hours and then sit in the car wet for the rest of the day.

So, after a quick breakfast and a walk along the beach, Tucker and I headed south to the city by the bay, San Francisco, my home away from home.

Aunt Carolina (as she is known to Tucker) has a beautiful house with two canine kids of her own, Layla and Saffie. Layla has little to no opinion of Tucker. Saffie, on the other hand, is quite posessive  of her mom and does not like sharing her with anyone. For the first day the canine kids were with out and about with their dad to allow Tucker to get all the love he could get from his Auntie. 

We went to Fort Funston, which to me is like a giant amusement park for dogs. It is also a controversial place these days… or perhaps just now and again for the past sixteen years. I can’t find the exact square mileage or acreage, but it’s diverse enough to walk on paths, up sand dunes, through meadows, and run into the ocean. All of this space is an off leash dog area. Hundreds of dogs frollick and play, and I have never yet seen any incidents. Why? Because it’s an amusement park for dogs who have enough room to roam and play that if they don’t like someone else, they just move on. I’m not saying everyone is a good dog guardian; I’m sure there are incidents, but far less than a “dog park” which is usually a small fenced-in area of lawn that gets pooped and peed on so much it’s just a swamp or a dry arid desert.

The National Park Service wants all dogs off their property. Although Fort Funston is a “recreational” space, which means it’s for people to play on and dogs are usually allowed there, the NPA has been trying to fight for over 16 years to reduce the area in which dogs can be. They want to cut it back by 60%. Much of the off leash areas would be on leash or no dogs at all. This means all those people who moved to San Francisco for the dog friendliness and being able to have a place to exercise their dogs even though they live in a city, will be with nowhere to go. Or the area will be so small, dog fights will be more prevalent. Or they have to drive further out to more dog friendly locations.
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The fight has been going on all year. The NPS put out a public comment period in which over 12,000 people voiced their opinions and elected officials and Congresspeople stated their disapproval of the plan and still the NPS vote to implement it. The battle continues. I certainly don’t want this to be the last time Tucker gets to romp in the dunes.

​Or walk along the ocean.

Oregon is a far drive—I shouldn’t have to go all the way there for him to play on the beach. 

Back at home, Saffie, Layla and their Dad arrived. Saffie looked less than pleased to see that Tucker was visiting:

​Tucker has learned over the years now to just let the girl alone. He played with his new fish he got for Christmas from Aunt Carolina and lied on the carpet pretending he was swimming in a lake.

​And at the end of the day, he was indeed all tuckered out.

The next day, Carolina’s friend Emilynn joined us for adventures. It was another beach and cliff day, this time in Half Moon Bay while the girls were out with Dad.
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Since it was a full car with three humans and one dog, I sat in the back with Tucker. 

​I don’t know why really, seeing as he clearly needed to be upfront.

Tucker did zoomies at the beach, with no dogs around, racing around on the 50 foot leash I have for him. Even though there were no dogs, there was beach and ocean and sunshine—everything Tucker had been missing for a few months.

Carolina had said we should stop at this superb deli for lunch in Half Moon Bay, and as we parked, I automatically said, “Do you want me to give you my order and you can get it for me?”

She looked at me like I was nuts. “Why? There’s a patio. You don’t think he’ll be okay on the patio?”

I had just spent two whole months by Tucker’s side unable to go to restaurants or even coffeehouses because although Vancouver is considered “dog friendly” it’s not dog friendly in the same way California is where your dog is your child and he goes everywhere with you. I had completely forgotten that there were places in the world where Tucker could lie at my feet and I could have lunch.
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We couldn’t go inside to order of course, but that’s fine. There was a chair for Tucker to wait on while Carolina and Emilynn made our orders.

​Tucker spent the ride home after lunch like this, ass in the backseat, but sleepyhead in the front—because he always needs to be right up front and in the middle of everything, even if he’s unconscious.

With more stormy weather on the way, Tucker and I headed south for the final leg of our journey the next day. When I pulled up to my own house the night before New Years Eve, it felt as if it I had been away forever—not just a long time since I had last seen the place, but also a long time since I had been in Vancouver. The power of travel is that it slows down time, and you enjoy all the moments that usually speed by.

I call 2016 my Year Without Holidays since I travelled on my birthday, missed Thanksgiving completely due to being in a country where their Thanksgiving was a month prior, not hearing Christmas music on the radio, not even seeing ads about Black Friday deals, and then crossing the border on Christmas Eve. I guess in a way, I did come home for the holidays, but home as in the United States, which counts on a grand scale as “home” I suppose.

Home is where the heart is, so I’m lucky to spend the holidays (and every day) at Home, whatever geographical location we’re in, for Tucker holds my heart. Although the adoption papers I signed three years ago state that I gave Tucker a home, and it he who provided Home for me.

Happy Holidays from the two of us. Wherever the road may take you in the coming year, may you always be at Home, and for those of you who still need a place for your heart to rest, please visit your local shelter. There are plenty of homes waiting to give you the love you so deserve.

It was Christmas Eve when Tucker and I crossed back into the homeland. Although I had wanted to visit a few friends along Interstate 5, my fear of getting trapped in a blizzard or skidding across the highway in an ice storm changed my initial plans. Instead, Tucker and I hung a right at Olympia, Washington and headed for the Pacific Ocean so we could have Christmas on the coast.

Seaside, Oregon is just north of Cannon Beach, Oregon, one of the dog-friendliest beach communities on the western seaboard. Between Cannon Beach and Seaside is Ecola State Park, the place I planned to spend Christmas Day hiking. Christmas is about church, and nature is my cathedral—luckily I can find them most anywhere, I only need to figure out which one will allow my canine kid to attend services with me.

I have never thought much about lodging, seeing as on our roadtrips, Tucker and I spend about 9-10 hours in each one, sometimes less. We play, have a pillow fight, eat some grub, and then sleep. I don’t like spending a lot of money for such minimal requirements as a roof over my head and a comfy bed. But in this case, not knowing if we still might confront inclement weather, I wanted a nice indoor space to spend the holiday should the need arise.
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The pictures looked perfect online, but the Google map imagery looked less than stellar. We arrived after dark, so although I could judge that indeed the interior was everything and more, I had no idea what outside would be like. Upon entering the early 1900’s beach cottage, I felt welcomed, as if the house was happy to not have to spend the holiday alone. 

I chose the upstairs bed (which was in one giant room the length and width of the bottom floor) because it had a window overlooking the ocean. All the other bedrooms (there were two more on the first floor) had no views. Tucker enjoyed the sprawling space and for a brief moment I was taken back to my childhood.

When I was little I had a Big Wheels that I would ride around on in the driveway. My mother was very clear to always tell me, “Do NOT leave the driveway.” Even though we lived on a sidestreet with no traffic other than the few neighbors who lived there, I was not allowed to cross the perimeter where blacktop ended and street began. So I would rev up and barrel all the way down the driveway at top speed (my mother’s heart racing just as quickly when she would see me do this), and then slam on the brakes at the last possible moment to be sure that front Big Wheel didn’t cross the line.

Cut to thirty-five years later: Tucker races across the large, slippery expanse of the hardwood floor in the upstairs room headed for the end that is an open stairwell leading down to the first floor. “Tucker! No! Stop!” I yell, my heart pounding as he slams on his own four-footed brakes and slides to a neat stop right at the edge of the top stair, just his front toenails dangling off the ledge. He turns his head to look back at me, big goofy grin on his face, and there it is: karma. Never doubt that the actions of your childhood lead you to exactly where you are today.

Honestly, I must have done some other things right because where I was, was stunning. This was the view I awoke to Christmas morning from my bed:

Due to getting to the grocery store ten minutes after they closed early on Christmas Eve, I did not have any big Christmas breakfast. Tuck and I had a usual one hour prep, a nice stroll down the promenade which was at our doorstep, and then we headed to Ecola State Park.
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We were only in the parking lot, and the views were already glorious.

​I had chosen a moderate hike (moderate for Americans, not Canadians… so, really, honestly, easy), which would take us down to Indian Beach which allowed dogs but wasn’t crazy crowded. I had seen signs posted saying that the trail was out to Indian Beach, but I thought that meant just perhaps one leg of it and that the rest of the trail would be fine. 

​Tucker and I descended into the fairyland forest and figured we’d just keep walking until we couldn’t.

​Although we were in the woods, views like this were between the trees:

​Evidently this tree home was worth making stairs for.

​The trail took us out in the open in a rather narrow path, but opened back up enough for me to feel secure in taking photos and not worry about Tucker sniffing something a little too far over the cliff’s edge.

​Only an hour in, we came across the obstacle that the signs had told of:

The bridge was definitely impassable--it was no longer attached to earth on the other side. But that didn’t make the hike a waste of time. I mentioned that the bridge was out to fellow hikers heading out as we headed back. They asked, “Is it worth it?” I replied, “Of course. The views until you get there are worth experiencing.”
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Had I not at least gone as far as we could, I never would have been right in this spot to experience this from this:

​Or this:

​Or this:

Just because a road is blocked some way into the future doesn’t make the journey not worth taking.

In fact, due to our shortened hike, I chose to head further south to Haystack Rock in Cannon Beach.  I tried to park close to the Rock, but it appeared to be all residential with no street parking. Again, just because a road is blocked, doesn’t mean it’s not worth going.

We drove back, parked at the nearest park, and walked. How could I complain? After all, my goal was to go for a walk.
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So, Tucker and I started rather far away from it:

With something as large as Haystack Rock, it’s hard to gain perspective as to how far away you are, or how enormous it actually is.
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Here’s a little way to judge. Those little lines in the upper-middle right on the edge of the sand line: those are human beings.

Another even closer... but people just as tiny in the middle/upper right of photo.

​Of course the entire beach was beautiful:

But Haystack Rock is a mighty impressive place:

Tucker took a quick nap in the truck while we headed back up to Seaside.

​There, we walked along the beach in Seaside, also dog-friendly. Not as dramatic as Haystack Rock, but a different experience to walk through the trails in the beach meadow...

​... out to where sand meets the sea...

... then back through the meadows...

and along the promenade.

After walking though woods, up hills and down, along the ocean and on the beach, Tucker and I turned back to our rented beach cottage to watch twilight arrive.

After dark, it was time for Christmas presents: the ones I had wrapped the night before. I tried to get a photo of Tucker next to his Christmas gifts in front of the fireplace, but he refused to get any closer. Evidently he's aware of his impulse control, and that's as close as he could get without tearing into them all. I have to respect the kid for knowing his limits.

I let him have one and put the rest away as not to tempt him. It wasn’t the most exciting Christmas, but I hope Tucker had a decent time. Christmas is for kids, and with how exhausted he was on the couch as I watched holidays movies that night, I’m guessing he had a pretty good time.

But our vacation wasn’t over yet… That was just Christmas.