From Seattle to San Francisco Along the Wild Pacific Coast: Part Two of Our West Coast Birthday Adventure
When Cunard’s Queen Elizabeth returned us to Seattle on September 7, our Alaska cruise was over, but our West Coast adventure was only half finished. We disembarked at Pier 66 around nine in the morning and took an Uber to the airport to pick up our SIXT rental car. After days aboard a luxurious ship, where every meal, bed and destination had been arranged for us, it felt almost scary to be completely on our own again. We had no hotel reservations for the drive south. We were simply going to wing it and see where the wind would blow us.
Our first important stop was Fort Clatsop, near Astoria, Oregon. Marcus had wanted to see it for years after reading about the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Meriwether Lewis and William Clark led the Corps of Discovery, commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson to explore westward to the Pacific. Traveling with them was Sacagawea, the young Shoshone woman who, along with her husband, Toussaint Charbonneau, served as an interpreter. The reconstructed Fort Clatsop stands near the site where the Corps spent the wet winter of 1805–1806 before beginning the long journey home. The fort was modest, the re-enactors very informative, and the Pacific tantalizingly close. For Marcus, it was a long-awaited bucket-list moment.
By the time we reached Cannon Beach around five that afternoon, Labor Day crowds had claimed every room. We took our photographs, admired the famous rock and searched Expedia for something nearby. Six miles north, we found the SaltLine Hotel in Seaside. It was modern, spotless and exactly what two tired travelers needed. Our room even included a yoga mat, although I knew that would remain untouched. Dinner was only steps away at Norma’s Seafood & Steak. After a less-than-healthy lunch earlier in the day, fresh seafood was definitely in order. The locally sourced Pacific sole, served with a baked potato and small salad, was fresh, simple and delicious.
The next morning, after a hot breakfast at SaltLine we followed Highway 101 down the Oregon Coast. At Rockaway Beach, we stopped at the invitation of our Facebook friend Bill and his wife, who lives just steps from the magnificent Twin Rocks. Nearby was Original Pronto Pup, birthplace of the corn dog, where Marcus could not resist climbing onto the mechanical corn dog for a ride.
Farther south, the Tillamook Creamery was busy but worth the stop. Between us came a cheeseburger, grilled cheese with tomato soup and, naturally, ice cream. Marcus also had to have a real old-fashioned milkshake — half strawberry and half chocolate, made with the real stuff and none of that fake flavoring. Oregon’s coast was already proving that this journey would be measured as much by tastes and surprises as by mileage. Highway 101 offered one grand view after another. Beaches appeared through openings in the forest, rocky headlands dropped into white surf, and small coastal towns arrived just when we needed coffee, a photograph or a chance to stretch our legs.
By Newport, we were ready to stop, and Hotel Sylvia turned out to be one of the loveliest surprises of the trip. Perched above Nye Beach, the boutique hotel is centered around books and storytelling. The staff was incredibly nice and patient, with fresh coffee and cappuccino available whenever we wanted it. Our cozy room, called Historical, overlooked the ocean. With the cool sea breeze outside, the literary surroundings felt warm and comforting. It was the kind of hotel that made us want to slow down.
That evening we went to Local Ocean Seafoods on Newport’s working harbor. The restaurant was sold out, yet the staff kindly found room for us. We shared a picture-perfect salad with a house dressing worth bottling and an incredible Moqueca de Peixe, a Brazilian seafood stew filled with rockfish, scallops, wild prawns and Dungeness crab in a coconut broth. Our ever-patient waitress, Andrea, helped make it one of the most memorable meals of the trip. Outside, noisy California sea lions serenaded us from the working harbor.
The following morning, a scrumptious, hot breakfast at Café Sylvia sent us back onto Highway 101. We stopped at spectacular Cape Perpetua and Heceta Head Light before reaching the famous Sea Lion Caves. Unfortunately, there were no sea lions there at the time, so we decided not to buy tickets and continued south.
In Coos Bay, Fishermen’s Seafood Market supplied exactly the road-trip lunch we wanted: good old-fashioned fish and chips. — We continued through Bandon, pausing at its harbor before following the coast to Port Orford. At Redfish restaurant, we stopped for fresh, hot coffee and looked across at Battle Rock and the restless Pacific. 
This stretch of Oregon felt raw and spacious, the road curving between forest and sea with dark rocks and waves breaking far below.
Brookings gave us another welcome pause. We checked into Portside Suites, which felt like stepping straight back into the 1990s. The décor was from another era, but our enormous suite was spotlessly clean and comfortable, with plenty of room to spread out. We walked next door to Catalyst Seafood in Brookings Harbor, a family-run restaurant with a local fishing legacy dating to 1955. Marcus chose seared tuna with clam chowder and a cold Alaskan Amber, while I had three generously filled fish tacos. We shared a warm peach bread pudding for dessert, then walked around Brookings Harbor as evening settled over the water. 
The next morning began at Hattie’s, where I discovered what may have been the best crispy breakfast potatoes we have ever eaten. Then it was back onto Highway 101 and toward California.
A few miles later, we entered redwood country. Nothing quite prepares you for the scale of an ancient redwood forest. Near Crescent City, we made our way to Stout Memorial Grove in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, ferns covered the ground, and the air seemed cooler and quieter with every step. Their size is impressive, but their silence stays with you. They seem to reduce every human worry to its proper proportion.
California soon showed us a less romantic side of road travel. At a gas station near the redwoods, both restrooms were occupied for a long time. Eventually, a person emerged from one carrying a sleeping bag, while another apparently homeless person came out of the other. Then came the prices. A medium pizza cost us about $40. The owner explained how wages, taxes and other expenses had pushed costs upward. Some groceries seemed nearly twice what we were accustomed to paying, while gasoline was at least $2 more per gallon. The coast was extraordinarily beautiful, but the contrast between natural wealth and visible hardship was difficult to miss.
The most demanding drive came as Marcus navigated Northern California’s narrow, twisting roads toward Fort Bragg. For nearly two hours, the route wound through mountains and redwood forest, with sharp curves demanding his full attention. The scenery was breathtaking, but the drive was ‘exhilarating’. When we finally reached Fort Bragg safely, we agreed it was an experience we don’t want to repeat. We had hoped to continue to Mendocino, but we were simply too tired. Expedia came to the rescue again with a room at the Seabird Lodge in Fort Bragg. It was exactly where we needed to stop. We picked up that expensive pizza, slept and left early the next morning.
Rather than racing straight toward San Francisco, we took our time winding through Northern California wine country. We passed Lula Cellars first, followed by Toulouse Vineyards and then Papapietro Perry Winery. After days of rugged coastline and towering redwoods, vineyards and rolling hills showed us yet another side of Northern California.
In the charming little town of Cloverdale, we stopped at Plank Coffee for coffee and discovered an incredibly delicious, fresh and flaky strawberry-nectarine pastry. It was one of those unexpected road-trip finds you remember long after the journey is over. As we explored town, the director of the Cloverdale Visitor Center actually stuck her head out the door and began chatting with Marcus. She told him all about the wineries still ahead of us and even gave us coupons for complimentary tastings. Unfortunately, time was getting away from us, and Marcus couldn’t partake anyway. He was our dedicated driver. Not bad for an incredibly active and handsome 81-year-old who had overcome cancer and was still leading the pack on our West Coast adventure.
Then it was on toward San Francisco. We had visited before, so this time we skipped most of the familiar tourist checklist. Even the Golden Gate Bridge was almost swallowed by fog, but seeing that enormous span appearing and disappearing through the mist was still impressive. We drove through historic neighborhoods lined with wonderful old homes, continued along the waterfront and stopped for photographs. Downtown appeared cleaner than we had expected, although farther out we saw more litter and homelessness. By three in the afternoon, after several intense days on the road, we were ready to call our sightseeing complete.
Our final hotel choice was all about making departure easy. The Grand Hyatt at SFO was perfectly located for our early flight. We dropped off our suitcases, then returned the rental car only minutes away. From the hotel’s fourth floor, the AirTrain runs around the clock to the terminals, while our room on the twelfth floor gave us impressive airport views. After winging our way down the coast, that seamless final night felt wonderfully civilized.
Our American Airlines flight departed at six the next morning with a connection in Chicago. We had upgraded to First Class, giving us wider seats, more space and a wonderful hot, fresh breakfast. The seats still did not recline very far, so I once again used the FlyHugz travel pillow we had tried on our westbound United flight. Years ago, we owned similar products that never worked. This one kept my head from dropping and allowed me to sleep for a couple of hours.
The road from Seattle to San Francisco gave us history, humor, exceptional seafood, a room above the Pacific, ancient forests, wine country and more than a few moments of uncertainty. It also reminded us that the best road trips are not always the most carefully organized.
We had started south from Seattle without a single hotel reservation. Each day we simply kept moving, stopping when something interested us and finding a place to sleep when we had gone far enough. We arrived home tired, grateful and full of stories. California was beautiful, Oregon had charmed us, and Marcus’s West Coast birthday adventure had taken us exactly where the wind decided to blow.
Yours in travel, Ingrid Lemme-Chalut
Travel Journalist & Blogger
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