Finding a new familiar friend

About six months ago a friend sent out a broadcast e-mail to many of us asking for references for a new place to stay on the Oregon Coast. He briefly listed the type of place he and his wife were looking for and basically asked, "We had our favorite place, but now we'd like to know about yours."

For a writer who has spent a lifetime traveling, and often writing about it, I was immediately caught up in the reason for the e-mailed inquiry, and, in these days of unlimited travel information only a Web click away, the rather dated approach for references.

My friend explained he and his wife had recently decided the place they returned to each year for the last two decades or so on the Southern Oregon coast had simply failed them one too many times. He just didn't think he wanted to return. But, he wanted the annual ocean sojourn to continue despite the loss of his familiar lodging friend.

Having traveled exhaustively around the United States, few places for me had earned the right of an annual return visit. Maybe it's just me, or maybe it's just the wanderlust inside of me, but I couldn't imagine the need to return to the same familiar place each and every year.

After a repeat visit to Ocean Lodge near Cannon Beach on the Northern Oregon Coast, I may have started to understand what my friend was looking for.

Three-day getaway

My wife, Lori, and I first visited Ocean lodge a year and a half ago in search of a quiet place to take the four not-so-quiet kids and the one very uppidity dog. We were not disappointed as I wrote back then. We found just enough peace for us, and just enough excitement (shopping, beach play, restaurants, etc.) for them.

But with my wife turning 40, I wanted to return to dig deeper into the peace of that visit — and find the quiet too, so readily missing with the entire family in tow.

Lori Bolsinger holds two newly purchased bottles of wine in front of the vacation getaway abode. For more vacation pictures see our photo gallery. Photo by Andrew Scot Bolsinger

We returned to Ocean Lodge, this time, just the two of us. Our relationship with the beautiful, comfortable place overlooking the historic Haystack Rock quickly fermented. Like my friend, I sense I found a place we will return often and see the fermentation grow and mature into a beautiful wine.

It's impossible not to love the Ocean Lodge. The hosts are like grandma and grandpa, welcoming you home. A fire almost always burns in the welcoming area. The smell of fresh-baked cookies lingers from the cookie jar. The sounds of the ocean beckon in the background. The rooms come with fireplace, large Jacuzzi tub and deck with ocean view. Most, I assume, come with kitchenettes that allowed us to bring our own orange juice and champagne for morning Mimosas. We always (both times!) visit the nearby little store to stock up on Mint Milanos and other late night snacks. We crank the fire up, and sleep with the slider open to hear the ocean.

It can't be a vacation for my wife without shopping, the one thing she usually lets the kids prod me about. But since they are not here this time, and I know better, I offer to take her into town. She loves me though. We spend far less time browsing then we do grabbing beers at the local tavern and insisting the waitress turn on the Oregon Ducks football game. The bartender asks if it is necessary. Imagine that? It's the one big misstep on an otherwise perfect weekend.

Lori and Andrew Scot Bolsinger

We make reservations at JP's, a local restaurant with great reviews. The owner, Bill Pappas, is also the chef. The place seats barely more than 30. Reservations are strongly encouraged. Pappas' creativity is apparent in everything from soup to entrees. But, his heavy hand detracts from the dishes too often. The spices are too plentiful, the sauces too heavy, the blackening too charred.

This is a minor complaint however, because the food is overall fine and the setting is very pleasant.

Don't get me wrong, it is a fine restaurant — and likely one of the best in this small town — but since we hail from Ashland, we have come to learn that few places are as blessed with genuine greatness in the kitchen as we are. We are admittedly hard to impress.

We're soon headed back to our lodge, which serves as a magnet pulling us filings back into a place of rest and comfort.

After a long night of sleep (we slept late often, napped often, went to sleep early"¦ all of which perhaps says more about our zany everyday lifestyle than it should) we wake late and watch the storms batter the sands outside our window. The Oregon Coast must be one of the few that you actually embrace the rains falling and the winds blowing. If we wanted sun, we'd have headed to Mexico.

Instead, our fire roars as I patter down to the elaborate continental breakfast to prepare a meal for the birthday girl. Fresh granola, bagels, fruit, coffee and much more waiting, I pile it onto a wooden breakfast-in-bed tray and return, again, to our room, which after two days has become as much like home as one could hope.

This journey started when my friend set out, in disappointment, for a place to return to. We found ours without even knowing we were looking.

Part 2: Through the wine country and into Portland.