Glen's Bakery was an icon in the heart of Crescent city. There is a strip along highway 101 where the chain restaurants and Supermarkets have staked their territory. When we let franchises assume the identity of our small towns they become indistinguishable from one another. Downtown Crescent City is now a series of causalities lined up like soldiers in triage.

The interior of Glens Bakery lies in state waiting for customers, small town gossip, and the smell of brewing coffee.

This is the rear cottage of a house in Crescent City California. The house it is adjacent to is the same shade of yellow, defiant against the relentlessly dour weather of the town. The house is immaculate, and even most of this cottage is in good repair, but the broken and neglected window betrays something lying just below the surface.

This is the third toilet I saw by the side of the road. One was placed ironically in a field, the other sat beside a fence. It looks like this one came off a RV or boat, it was the only adornment in this large turnout.

I appreciate truth in advertising. The Church of Christ in Crescent city is like a beacon of stability in a town which seems to be slowly losing its identity.

Just in front of this stands a gate with the typical “Do not trespass. Private Property” sign. It is hard to even make out the dirt road which lies beneath. What was beyond the trees, a forgotten business venture or a lot which may hold a potential home. The property is private but privacy is an illusion.

I had stopped along side the road to use my phone to find a campsite for the night but I noticed a couple sitting on their porch enjoying the evening. I decided local knowledge may help me faster than the sporadic internet coverage.I was not looking forward to camping along the coast with its persistent winds so I asked them about campsites further inland. The woman directed me to Blackberry Campground further up highway 38. This view is directly behind my campsite, it was lovely by the river but the trail leading to it was nearly vertical and incredibly treacherous.

The next morning I went back up the road toward Reedsport to continue my journey North. Along the way the enclave of Tidewater piqued my interest. "Tidewater" seems like a name destined to be forgotten. I am uncertain the former use of this building or if it will ever be more than a marker of the past.

This Corvette was for sale along with a few other vehicles in the former Tidewater gas station. I'm not a fan of the Corvette as a car but from the right angle it is still a badass looking machine.

At this is in a small wayside along the Coast highway you can walk to where a creek terminates in the sea. I'm not sure why this area was cleared of vegetation the rest of the park was dense with foliage.

The series of calm bays near Tilamook are a welcome break form the usually windy seaside. I paused here to reflect before I moved up the coast to my final destination.

This is the house where stayed for the photo retreat. the small window at the top of the house opens to the boys room. Six of us came here for 5 days of trans-formative and inspiring instruction. We left as one.

A small dell lay just one house down from our vacation rental. I went past it many times and I instantly thought ofthe things I would have done in it if I had grown up in the neighborhood. The potential for mischief is high.

One of the members of the retreat, Kurt, pointed this out lying on a bench in Downtown Astoria. I pounced on itas a keepsake of the trip. The camouflage is a direct reflection of the populace in rural Oregon.The Gideons know their target market.

The road home offered hours to reflect on the events of the week and my future as a Photographer.