It’s been a little while since I’ve posted. I know, I know. 52 weeks, Greg. Yeah, yeah. But, here it is. New post! Ta-da!

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Alright. Here’s the story. We live in Seattle. It’s pretty nice here: the city is lovely, the mountains are close, and the weather is nice. Well, the weather is usually nice. Seems like we finally broke the climate though, resulting in a really terrible heat wave. It was in the 90s all week. Seattle isn’t built for this type of nonsense; no one has air conditioning. We decided that since it’s miserable here and Abby’s on break, we should travel someplace where it’s a little cooler.

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We went to Oregon. Specifically Cannon Beach. The first night we decided to camp up at Saddle Mountain. It’s about 35 minutes from the beach, secluded up a long and pothole ridden forest road. To be honest, driving up there I thought we were gong to a murder camp up in the woods. But as we reached camp, the woods cleared up and the thick dark pine forest gave way to an aspen grove gently lit by the setting sun.

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In the morning we lazily made our way to the beach, walking through the mist that shrouded everything in a thick layer of milk. As we walked past people it sometimes looked like a photograph from the Bosnian war, refugees slowly making their way through the smoke of war. Minus all the war, though. That would have made for a terrible vacation.

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The last evening we decided to stop by the lookout before we headed to bed. The sun was almost gone, but the air was still warm. We walked out to a little lookout spot, high on the cliffs above the ocean and were presented with this:

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It’s pretty great out there. You should go.