The Gordon House in Silverton is the Pacific Northwest's only publicly accessible Frank Lloyd Wright–designed home — a beautifully restored Usonian masterpiece set within the Oregon Garden.
Oregon: Astoria
🏰 From Fur Forts to Fish Tins: The Making of Astoria
We started our time in Astoria knowing almost nothing about it. We left knowing rather more — and honestly, it’s quite a story.
The whole thing kicked off with a fort. In the early 1800s, the American Fur Company — owned by John Jacob Astor, one of the wealthiest men in America at the time — established Fort Astoria on the south bank of the Columbia River. It was, in the grand tradition of American enterprise, both bold and short-lived. The War of 1812 put paid to that rather quickly, and the fort’s assets were sold off to Canadian rivals, the North West Company, in 1813. Astor’s name stuck around though, and by 1876, Astoria was formally incorporated as a city in the state of Oregon.
🌍 An Unlikely Melting Pot (With Terrible Weather)
What followed was a proper immigration boom. Nordic settlers — Swedes and Finns mostly — arrived in considerable numbers during the latter half of the 19th century. Why they chose this particular corner of the rainy Pacific Northwest, apparently mistaking it for somewhere pleasant, remains one of history’s great mysteries. Alongside them came significant numbers of Chinese immigrants, drawn largely by work in the canneries that had begun springing up along the waterfront.
🐟 The Cannery Years
At its peak, Astoria had more than 30 salmon canneries operating along the Columbia River, making it one of the most productive fish-processing centres in the world. The Chinese community, working predominantly in those canneries, grew to represent around 22% of Astoria’s total population — a remarkable figure for a small Oregon town in the 1880s and 1890s. Lumber was the other big industry, with vast forests on the doorstep making timber an obvious trade.
📦 All Dressed Up, Nowhere to Ship
And then, as tends to happen, it all rather went sideways. The fishing industry collapsed under the weight of overfishing and changing markets. The lumber trade dwindled. Astoria’s days as a significant deep-water port faded, too. We did spot some impressively large container ships moving along the Columbia River while we were there, but they weren’t stopping. They were heading upriver to ports in Washington State or Portland, Oregon, giving Astoria barely a glance as they passed by — which felt a little rude, frankly.
🎒 Tourism to the Rescue
Today, Astoria’s main business is tourism. Which, given the history, the views, and the rather splendid Victorian architecture, is probably not the worst outcome.
🔥 Built by Fire: How Astoria’s Downtown Rose from the Ashes
The shape of downtown Astoria, we quickly discovered, had been dramatically — and repeatedly — decided by fire. Not once, but twice, the town essentially burned to the ground, which you might think would prompt someone to have a quiet word with whoever was in charge of building regulations. You would, of course, be wrong.
In its early days, much of downtown Astoria was constructed almost entirely from timber, which, given that the whole place was perched on a waterlogged, marshy estuary, meant the buildings were suspended on thousands of wooden pilings driven down into the soggy ground below. It was, in fairness, a perfectly sensible solution to the problem of trying to build a town on what was, essentially, a swamp. The Columbia River estuary had been drawing settlers since the early nineteenth century — Astoria itself was established in 1811, making it one of the oldest American settlements west of the Rockies — and the locals had become rather good at making do with what they had. What they had, unfortunately, was a great deal of wood and not nearly enough fireproofing.
The town suffered several damaging fires over the decades, as wooden frontier towns tended to do with a sort of grim inevitability, but the one that really finished the job arrived in 1883. It tore through the timber buildings and the wooden pier structures with the kind of enthusiasm that only truly uncontrolled fire can manage. By the time it was done, enormous swathes of the downtown waterfront had been reduced to charred timber and ash. One imagines the collective reaction of Astorians was somewhere between despair and the very particular British feeling of “well, of course it did.”
After that, the town sensibly rebuilt in brick, stone, and more traditional materials — the sort of stuff that doesn’t immediately go up like a bonfire the moment someone drops a candle. The Victorian-era commercial buildings that replaced the wooden originals are still very much in evidence today, and rather handsome they are too, in that solid, no-nonsense Pacific Northwest way.
What we found genuinely atmospheric, though, was what remained of the old waterfront. As we walked along the riverside, we could still see the ghostly stumps of those original wooden pilings poking up from the water and the mud below — blackened, weathered, and obstinately still there after well over a century. There’s something oddly moving about them. They’re not dramatic, exactly. They’re just… there. Quiet little reminders that a whole town once balanced on top of them, until the fire decided otherwise.
🌊 Astoria Waterfront
There are few things in life that genuinely lift the spirits — a decent cup of tea, finding a parking space first time, and being near water. We managed one out of three in Astoria, Oregon, because the waterfront there was absolutely magnificent, and our accommodation was a mere two-minute stroll away from it. Which was, frankly, more than we deserved.
The waterfront trail follows what was once a working railway line, and a very busy one at that. Astoria has been a working port since the early 19th century — it’s actually one of the oldest American settlements west of the Rocky Mountains, incorporated as a city in 1876, though Europeans had been poking around the area since the Lewis and Clark Expedition camped nearby during the brutal winter of 1805–06. The railway came later, serving the canneries and timber mills that made this stretch of the Columbia River genuinely important to the Pacific Northwest economy. By the time the canneries declined through the mid-20th century, so did the railway’s commercial purpose. The tracks fell quiet and eventually the whole corridor was handed over to pedestrians and cyclists, which is, all things considered, a rather more civilised use of the space.
These days, the old line is home to the Astoria River Front Trolley — a wonderfully creaky, completely charming vintage streetcar that trundles along the waterfront and makes the whole thing feel slightly more festive than a simple walk probably deserves. The trolley, known affectionately as Old 300, dates back to 1913 and was restored by local volunteers. Riding it feels like something your grandfather might have done, which is either deeply nostalgic or mildly alarming depending on your outlook.
The paved trail itself extends for nearly six and a half miles along the full length of the town’s waterfront — so there’s no excuse for not getting your steps in, as my wife cheerfully reminded me approximately every fifteen minutes. The whole corridor is generously dotted with things to stop and look at, eat, and drink — all of which we treated as a moral obligation rather than a mere suggestion. There are restaurants, cafés, and bars making the most of their position overlooking the Columbia River, and several excellent spots dedicated to the maritime history in which Astoria is absolutely steeped.
And there’s a lot of that history to take in. Astoria sits at the point where the Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean, and that geography made it strategically vital for centuries of trade, fishing, and general maritime mucking about. The town was named after John Jacob Astor, the fur-trading magnate who funded the Pacific Fur Company’s outpost here in 1811 — making it, in a roundabout way, a monument to capitalism that somehow ended up as one of the more characterful small towns on the Oregon coast. It wears its past well.
We walked a good stretch of the trail and felt thoroughly pleased with ourselves for doing so. The views across the river towards Washington State on the far bank were genuinely spectacular, and the whole atmosphere — briny air, weathered timber buildings, the distant moan of a foghorn — made it feel properly, satisfyingly coastal in a way that no amount of piped-in seagull sound effects could ever replicate.
museum
🚢 The Columbia River Maritime Museum
We’d heard good things about the Columbia River Maritime Museum before we rocked up, but nothing quite prepares you for the sheer scale of the place. With over 20,000 maritime artefacts — yes, twenty thousand — it lays very reasonable claim to being the largest collection of its kind in the entire Pacific Northwest. That’s not a boast you can make lightly, and frankly, they’ve earned it.
Inside, there’s genuinely rather a lot to get your teeth into. The exhibits cover the full sweep of maritime life on the Columbia River and along the Oregon coast, from the earliest days of Indigenous canoe travel through the great era of commercial fishing, salmon canning (which was enormous around here in the late 19th century), and the arrival of the steam-powered vessels that changed everything. The displays are well thought out and don’t just plonk a rusty anchor in front of you and expect you to feel enlightened.
There are also some proper interactive exhibits scattered throughout — the kind where you actually do something rather than just read a wall of text in a slightly dark room until your knees give way. We found those surprisingly good. And yes, there’s also the obligatory IMAX theatre, because no self-respecting American museum would dare open its doors without one. We’re not complaining — it’s a perfectly decent addition.
Outside the museum is where things get really interesting, and I say that as someone who had to be mildly persuaded to leave the gift shop.
Moored right alongside the building is the Lightship Columbia — a National Historic Landmark, no less — and it is genuinely worth your time. Lightships, for those who’ve never had cause to think about them (which is most of us), were essentially floating lighthouses. They were anchored at fixed points where building a proper lighthouse was impractical, typically at the mouths of treacherous river bars or offshore hazards, and they sat there in all weathers, keeping their lights burning and their foghorns bellowing so that passing ships didn’t come to a rather sticky end.
The Columbia Bar — where the Columbia River meets the Pacific Ocean near Astoria, Oregon — is one of the most notorious stretches of water on the entire North American coast. It earned the rather ominous nickname “the Graveyard of the Pacific,” and with good reason. Over 2,000 vessels have been wrecked there since European navigation began in the late 18th century, and the conditions — fierce tidal currents, heavy swells, and unpredictable sandbanks — made it a genuine nightmare for sailors even in good weather. The lightship was absolutely critical to safe navigation there.
The Columbia herself served at the mouth of the river from 1951 until she was decommissioned in 1979, when she was replaced by a modern automated buoy. Before her, earlier lightships had been stationed at the same spot stretching back to 1892. You can board the Columbia and wander around, which we very much recommend doing. The crew quarters are properly cramped and spartan in a way that makes you feel quite grateful for modern travel arrangements. These were men who lived and worked in conditions that would make most of us weep into our duvets.
📍 Practical Information
- Location: 1792 Marine Drive, Astoria, Oregon 97103, USA
- Website: www.columbiarivermaritime.org
- Telephone: +1 (503) 325-2323
- Opening Hours: Daily 9:00 am – 5:00 pm (closed Thanksgiving and Christmas Day)
- Entry Fees: Adults $16 | Seniors (65+) $13 | Children (6–17) $5 | Children under 6 free | Family pass available
column
🗿 The Astoria Column — Oregon’s Spiralling Tribute to the Past
Perched high above the town on Coxcomb Hill, the Astoria Column was one of those things we’d seen on postcards and thought, yes, we really ought to go and have a look at that. So we did. And rather glad we were too.
The column was built in 1926, which makes it almost exactly a hundred years old — considerably older than it looks, and considerably better preserved than most things of that age, including me. Standing at a not-inconsiderable 126 feet, it was commissioned as a monument to the natural riches of the Pacific Northwest and the rather determined people who decided to make it their home. The whole exterior is wrapped in a beautifully executed mural — a continuous spiral of painted scenes telling the story of Oregon’s history, from the Indigenous peoples who lived here long before anyone else had the cheek to turn up, right through to the early settlers of the nineteenth century. It’s the sort of thing you’d expect to find in Rome, not tucked away on a hilltop in northern Oregon. Pleasantly surprising, that.
The column is honestly best admired from below, where you can take in the full sweep of the mural without getting a crick in your neck. However, if you’re the sort who can’t resist a staircase — and we know the type — you can climb to the observation deck at the top. There are 164 steps, which we’re told is very good for the cardiovascular system. Whether that’s true or not, the views from the top are genuinely spectacular, so it probably qualifies as effort well spent.
A quick word on the practicalities, because someone has to. Parking is limited — deliberately so, it seems — and it can get surprisingly busy, particularly around sunset when half of Astoria apparently has the same idea. A parking pass costs $5.00, which also covers your entry to the column itself, so it’s not exactly going to break the bank. There’s a small gift shop on site where you can pick up the usual assortment of fridge magnets and tea towels, which is either charming or unnecessary depending on your outlook. We bought a fridge magnet, obviously. From the car park, a handful of trails lead off into the surrounding forest and wind their way down the hill, which is lovely if you’ve got the time and the knees for it. And if you’re feeling especially virtuous — or simply didn’t bring a car — you can hike up from Astoria town itself, climbing through forest before emerging at the column with what we can only assume is a significant sense of achievement.
The panorama from Coxcomb Hill is, without being overly dramatic about it, genuinely magnificent. The Columbia River stretches out below in both directions, wide and grey and quietly impressive, with the coastal hills rolling away into the distance. On a clear day — and we should mention that clear days in the Pacific Northwest are not exactly guaranteed; this is, after all, a region that treats drizzle as a lifestyle choice — the views extend all the way out over the Pacific Ocean. If the weather does cooperate and you happen to be there at the right moment, watching the sun go down over the Pacific from the top of the Astoria Column is one of those experiences that’s actually rather difficult to put into words without sounding like a greeting card. So we’ll simply say: stunning. And leave it at that.
🏛️ Flavel & Gustavus Holmes Houses
Now, I’ll be honest with you — we didn’t actually get inside the Flavel House. Because of course we didn’t. We’d travelled all that way to Astoria, Oregon, and the place was shut. Covid-19 had seen to that. Still, we did what any sensible tourist does in that situation: we walked around the outside, peered through the fence, and took photographs of things we couldn’t actually visit. Very satisfying, as you can imagine.
Which is a shame, because the Flavel House really is something to look at. It is, without question, one of the most recognisable and striking pieces of architecture in the whole of Astoria — and given that Astoria is already a town with no shortage of handsome old buildings, that’s saying quite a lot. The house is built in the Queen Anne style, which was the architectural equivalent of showing off in the 1880s and 1890s. If you’re not familiar with it, Queen Anne is the style that basically says: “We have money, we have a carpenter, and we are not afraid to use either.” Think turrets, decorative woodwork, wraparound verandas, steeply pitched roofs, and enough ornamental detail to keep a painter busy for the better part of a decade.
The house was built in 1885 and 1886 — at a cost of around eleven thousand dollars, which sounds like a bargain now but was an absolutely enormous sum at the time — for Captain George Flavel, who was born in Virginia in 1823 and died in Astoria in 1893. Captain Flavel was one of the most powerful and influential men in the whole of Clatsop County in the latter half of the nineteenth century. He’d made his name and considerable fortune as a bar pilot on the Columbia River, which was one of the most demanding and frankly terrifying jobs in maritime Oregon. The Columbia Bar — the stretch of water where the river meets the Pacific Ocean — was, and still is, one of the most treacherous river mouths in the world. It earned the rather cheerful nickname “the Graveyard of the Pacific,” which really tells you everything you need to know. Hundreds of ships were lost there over the years, and the men who piloted vessels safely across it were not only skilled but absolutely indispensable. Flavel was among the very best of them, and he had a near-monopoly on bar piloting on the Columbia for many years — which, combined with his savvy investments in Astoria real estate and other business ventures, made him a very wealthy man indeed by the time he retired.
He moved into the house with his wife, Mary Christina Boelling, who had been born in 1839 and outlived her husband by a remarkable thirty-five years, not passing away until 1928. Also sharing the house were the couple’s two grown daughters, Nellie and Katie. Captain Flavel only actually lived in the house for seven years before his death in 1893, which does make you wonder whether he ever quite felt he’d got his eleven thousand dollars’ worth. His descendants continued to live there after his death, however, and the property remained in the family until 1936, when it was gifted to the City of Astoria.
And here is where it gets genuinely alarming, because what the city then apparently considered doing with this magnificent Victorian mansion — a building that had survived earthquakes, floods, and the general ravages of the Pacific Northwest climate for the better part of half a century — was knocking it down and putting in a car park. A car park. I’m not making this up. Fortunately, the good citizens of Astoria had rather more sense than the council, and enough of them kicked up enough of a fuss that the demolition plan was quietly shelved. Ownership was eventually transferred to the Clatsop County Historical Society, who turned it into the museum it is today — and where, on a good day when there isn’t a global pandemic on, you can actually go inside and have a look round.
We, of course, could not. But the grounds were pleasant enough.
🏠 Visitor Information — Flavel House Museum
- 📍 Location: 441 8th Street, Astoria, Oregon 97103, USA
- 🌐 Website: www.cumtux.org
- 📞 Phone: +1 (503) 325-2203
- 🕐 Opening Hours: Daily 10:00am – 5:00pm (May–September); 11:00am – 4:00pm (October–April). Closed Thanksgiving, Christmas Day, and New Year’s Day
- 🎟️ Entry Fees: Adults $6; Seniors (65+) $5; Children (6–17) $3; Children under 6 free; Family ticket (2 adults + up to 4 children) $20
🏰 Fort Astoria — Where America’s Pacific Story Began
We didn’t come to Astoria, Oregon, expecting to be genuinely moved by a reconstructed wooden blockhouse. And yet, there we were.
Fort Astoria — also known, rather confusingly, as Fort George — holds a fairly remarkable place in American history, though you’d be forgiven for not knowing that, given it’s currently wedged into a corner of downtown Astoria between a car park and a perfectly ordinary street. Which is, as we’ll come to, rather ironic.
The fort was the flagship trading post of John Jacob Astor’s Pacific Fur Company — the PFC, if you want to sound like you know what you’re talking about. Astor, a German-born immigrant who became the first multi-millionaire in American history, was not a man who did things by halves. To get his people to the mouth of the Columbia River on the remote Pacific coast, he organised not one but two expeditions simultaneously, because apparently sending people by sea and by land at the same time was the kind of bold, slightly reckless thinking that made him fabulously wealthy.
The maritime party set off aboard a ship called the Tonquin in September 1810, sailing from New York all the way round Cape Horn — a journey of some 22,000 miles that took the best part of six months and was, by all accounts, deeply unpleasant. The overland party, meanwhile, set out from St. Louis in the spring of 1811, trudging westward across prairies, mountains and rivers in what became known as the Astor Expedition. These poor souls had to travel roughly 2,000 miles through territory that was, to put it mildly, not yet well-mapped. They arrived exhausted, half-starved, and probably wondering whether the fur trade was really worth it.
The two groups converged at the mouth of the Columbia River, and in the spring of 1811 — with the maritime crew having arrived first in March — they set about building Fort Astoria. It became, on 12th April 1811, the first permanent American-owned settlement on the Pacific coast of North America. That is genuinely significant, even if the reconstructed blockhouse standing there today gives very little indication of just how consequential that moment was.
The fort’s history was turbulent from the start. The Tonquin herself was destroyed in a catastrophic explosion in June 1811, just months after arriving — a disaster that wiped out most of her crew. Then, during the War of 1812, with British naval vessels threatening and the North West Company circling, the fort was sold to the rival Canadian fur traders in October 1813, who promptly renamed it Fort George after the reigning British monarch. It remained in British hands until 1818, when the Convention of 1818 restored the region to joint American-British occupation, and the name Fort Astoria crept back into use.
The site was added to the National Register of Historic Landmarks on 5th November 1961 — a date, we note, when the blockhouse you can visit today had not yet been built — and is now marked by a reconstructed blockhouse that does its best to evoke what once stood here. It’s modest, certainly, but it’s doing important work.
🌲 Douglas Fir Memorial
We’d been wandering around Astoria, Oregon, doing what we do best — which is to say, walking slightly too slowly and getting in everyone’s way — when we stumbled across something genuinely worth stopping for. There, tucked into a shelter on the corner of 7th and Commercial Streets, right next to the Clatsop County Courthouse and directly across from the post office, sat an enormous section of a Douglas fir log. And enormous really is the word.
Now, I’ll be honest: we weren’t expecting much. A log in a shed isn’t exactly the Louvre. But this thing stopped us dead in our tracks, and once we’d read the statistics on the accompanying placard, we stood there for a good five minutes just doing the maths and feeling quietly inadequate.
The tree this log came from had stood 231 feet tall. That’s roughly the height of a 23-storey building, which is quite a lot of tree by anyone’s standards. Its diameter measured 115 inches — nearly ten feet across — which means that if you laid five reasonably tall men end to end across the stump, you’d still have room for a small Labrador. And it was 624 years old when it was felled. Let that sink in for a moment. This tree was already a couple of centuries old when Christopher Columbus was still arguing with Isabella of Castile about funding his rather ambitious gap year. It had been quietly photosynthesising in the Pacific Northwest since the 1300s, minding its own business, growing a bit each year, while the rest of the world got on with the Black Death, the Hundred Years’ War, and various other unpleasantnesses.
The Douglas fir — Pseudotsuga menziesii, if you’re the sort of person who reads plant labels — is one of the great trees of the American Pacific Northwest, and Oregon in particular treats it with the reverence it deserves. It’s been the state tree of Oregon since 1936, which tells you something about how the locals feel about it. The species is named, a little circuitously, after David Douglas, a Scottish botanist who surveyed the Pacific Northwest in the 1820s and clearly had an eye for a impressive conifer. The menziesii bit refers to Archibald Menzies, another Scotsman, who’d noted the tree back in 1791. So essentially, two blokes from Scotland between them got naming rights on the most important tree in Oregon. You’re welcome, America.
By the time a tree like this was being felled in the late 19th or early 20th century, the Douglas fir was already the backbone of the Pacific Northwest timber industry. Astoria itself, founded in 1811 as the first American settlement west of the Rocky Mountains — a fact the town mentions at every available opportunity, and fair enough — was built substantially on the logging and fishing trades. The forests around the lower Columbia River were staggeringly productive, and the logs that came out of them were, by any measure, extraordinary.
The log on display in that little shelter is, in its quiet way, a memorial to all of that: the scale of the original forest, the sheer ambition of the men who worked it, and the rather sobering thought that we don’t have trees like this in anything like these numbers any more. It doesn’t lecture you about it, which we appreciated. It just sits there, vast and slightly overwhelming, letting you draw your own conclusions.
We drew ours, took a photograph, and went off in search of a cup of tea, feeling both humbled and, frankly, a bit peckish.
📍 Visitor Information
- Location: Corner of 7th and Commercial Streets, Astoria, Oregon 97103 — next to the Clatsop County Courthouse, across from the post office
- Website: www.oldoregon.com (Astoria–Warrenton Area Chamber of Commerce)
- Phone: +1 (503) 325-6311
- Opening Hours: Outdoor/sheltered display — accessible at any time
- Entry Fee: Free
🏛️ US Customs House
We pitched up at the US Customs House on Leif Erikson Drive in Astoria, Oregon, and I have to say, for a building that’s essentially a copy of a copy, it’s rather impressive. That might sound like faint praise, but stick with me.
The original customhouse here in Astoria was constructed in late 1849, which puts it right in the thick of one of the most turbulent and exciting periods in American Pacific Northwest history. This was the era of the Oregon Trail, when thousands of exhausted, mud-caked settlers were finally staggering into the region after months of genuinely horrific overland travel, and Astoria itself — founded back in 1811 as the first permanent American settlement on the Pacific coast — was busy trying to establish itself as a proper town with proper institutions. A customhouse was, therefore, rather a big deal. It signalled that Astoria meant business, literally.
Sadly, the original building didn’t last terribly long. It was destroyed by fire in 1852 — which, given that most structures of the period were built largely from wood and heated by open flames, is about as surprising as discovering that fish are wet. Fire was simply what happened to wooden buildings in nineteenth-century America. It was practically a hobby.
What’s rather frustrating, from a historical point of view, is that no photographs or drawings of that original 1849 building survived. Not a single one. The only description we have of it — and I mean the only one — is that it was “very neat, plain and of course pretty.” That’s it. Generations of historians presumably tearing their hair out, and all we’ve got is three rather underwhelming adjectives. Neat, plain, and pretty. It sounds like something you’d say about a neighbour’s bathroom renovation to avoid causing offence.
After the fire, a replacement customhouse was built in 1852, and this one — mercifully — did leave behind photographs and documents. Which turned out to be enormously useful, because between 1992 and 1994, those records formed the entire basis for the reconstruction we were now standing in front of. The whole building is, essentially, a historically informed replica of a Victorian-era replacement of a building nobody can describe properly. And yet it works. It genuinely does.
The reconstruction effort itself is worth a moment’s appreciation. This wasn’t a case of someone slapping up a vaguely period-looking facade and calling it done. Proper archival research was involved, proper documents were consulted, and the result is a building that at least gives you a credible sense of what nineteenth-century federal architecture looked like in this corner of the Oregon coast. Given that Astoria sits at the mouth of the Columbia River and was a key trading and administrative hub in the 1800s — collecting duties on the considerable flow of goods moving through the region — the customhouse was never just a pretty face. It was the long arm of the US Treasury reaching all the way out to the Pacific.
Practical Information:
- 📍 Location: 3455 Leif Erikson Drive, Astoria, Oregon, OR 97103
- 🌐 Website: www.nps.gov/fowa
- 📞 Phone: +1 503-325-2205
- 🕐 Opening Hours: Wednesday–Sunday, 11:00am–4:00pm (seasonal — check ahead)
- 🎟️ Entry Fees: Free admission
🏛️ Historic Downtown Astoria
The weather during our stay in Astoria was, frankly, rather better than we had any right to expect. Given that this is the Pacific Northwest — a region that essentially invented drizzle — we were quietly relieved. The sun came out, stayed out, and gave us every excuse to wander around the historic downtown area without feeling like we were auditioning for a documentary about seasonal depression.
Now, “downtown” is perhaps a slightly grand word for what Astoria has on offer. We’re talking about two parallel streets, roughly a block apart, which you could cover at a brisk pace in about twenty minutes. That said, what it lacks in scale it more than makes up for in charm. Tourism accounts for a significant chunk of Astoria’s economy, and the town knows it. The result is a pleasing collection of independent shops that are actually worth poking around in, rather than the usual parade of fudge stalls and novelty fridge magnets you tend to encounter in seaside towns back home.
The real draws, though, are the buildings themselves. The John Jacob Astor Hotel Building stands as one of the tallest structures along the entire Oregon coast — no small achievement in a state that tends to prefer keeping things close to the ground. Named after the American fur-trade magnate John Jacob Astor, who founded the settlement of Astoria back in 1811, the building has led a rather eventful life. Completed in the early 20th century, it served for decades as the grand hotel in town. Then, in 1948, it quietly made history: a local entrepreneur named Ed Parsons rigged an antenna to the roof and created what is generally regarded as the world’s first cable television system, pulling in a signal from Seattle to keep his wife happy. Remarkable, really, when you consider that most of us still can’t get a decent broadband connection in rural England.
The hotel itself is now residential apartments, which is probably for the best. Nothing ruins a good piece of history quite like turning it into a Travelodge.
The other building worth craning your neck at is the Liberty Theatre, a wonderfully preserved former vaudeville house that dates back to 1925. Vaudeville, for those who need a reminder, was essentially the Netflix of its era — variety entertainment for the masses, before television came along and ruined everything. These days the Liberty hosts a decent mix of live events, concerts and community performances. It’s the sort of place that makes you glad someone had the good sense not to knock it down and put up a car park.
And yes, there are plenty of places to eat and drink — including three rather excellent breweries, which we will be returning to shortly. Priorities, after all.
🎬 The Oregon Film Museum, Astoria
We had, if we’re honest, fairly modest expectations. A museum dedicated to films made in Oregon didn’t exactly sound like the Louvre. But the Oregon Film Museum turned out to be a genuinely entertaining little place, and one that’s considerably more interesting than its somewhat functional name suggests.
Oregon, it turns out, has been rather busy over the decades quietly serving as a backdrop for some of Hollywood’s most beloved films. The headline act — and they know it — is The Goonies, the 1985 Steven Spielberg-produced adventure that became the defining film of an entire generation’s childhood. If you were between eight and fourteen in 1985, this film was essentially your entire personality for about two years. Set in the fictional Astoria neighbourhood of “The Goon Docks,” the film followed a gang of misfit kids on a treasure hunt to save their homes from greedy property developers — which, now that I think about it, sounds less like a children’s adventure and more like a particularly grim planning dispute. The film was directed by Richard Donner, best known at that point for Superman (1978), and it went on to gross over $61 million at the US box office alone.
But The Goonies is only the start of it. The museum also celebrates Stanley Kubrick’s deeply unsettling The Shining (1980), which was partly filmed at the Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood, and which still gives a certain type of middle-aged man the creeps whenever he sees a particular carpet pattern. Then there’s Miloš Forman’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975), filmed at the Oregon State Hospital in Salem — a film so powerful it won all five major Academy Awards and genuinely changed public attitudes towards psychiatric care. Not bad for a state that most people couldn’t confidently point to on a map. And rounding things off rather nicely is the Twilight trilogy, the vampire romance saga based on Stephenie Meyer’s novels, which was filmed extensively around the Pacific Northwest and which caused the town of Forks, Washington — just over the border — to be utterly overrun by devoted fans for about a decade.
What makes the museum genuinely special, though, is the building itself. We were housed — quite literally — in the old Clatsop County Jail, a proper working prison that operated from 1914 right through to 1976. Built in the early twentieth century, when Astoria was a rough-and-tumble port town fuelled by the salmon canning industry and a certain amount of general lawlessness, this building would have seen some sights. For over sixty years it held real prisoners behind real bars, and you can feel that history in the walls, if you’re the sort of person who feels things in walls. Which I’m not, particularly, but even I had to admit it had atmosphere.
The jail’s cinematic credentials are, it turns out, rather impressive. The building served as an actual working film set for three productions: The Goonies itself — where the famous opening jail break sequence was filmed right here — the 1986 science fiction comedy Short Circuit, in which a military robot called Number 5 becomes sentient and goes on the run (a premise that seemed futuristic in 1986 and now just sounds like a Tuesday at Google), and Come See the Paradise (1990), Alan Parker’s drama about the internment of Japanese Americans during the Second World War. It’s a building, then, that carries genuine historical and cultural weight — and the museum does a decent job of reminding you of that.
📍 Practical Information
- Location: 732 Duane St, Astoria, OR 97103
- Website: oregonfilmmuseum.org
- Phone: +1 (503) 325-2203
- Opening Hours: Daily 10:00am – 5:00pm (hours may vary seasonally — worth checking ahead)
- Entry Fees: Adults $6; Children (6–17) $4; Under 6 free
🏭 Hanthorn Cannery Museum — When Astoria Fed the World
We hadn’t expected much from Astoria, if we’re honest. It’s the sort of town that appears on the map looking slightly apologetic about itself, tucked away in the far north-west corner of Oregon where the Columbia River finally gives up its long journey and throws itself into the Pacific. But Astoria turned out to be rather more interesting than we’d anticipated, which is always a pleasant surprise for a couple of blokes who’d set off expecting little more than a soggy afternoon and a disappointing sandwich.
The town’s history is deeply bound up with fish. Specifically, salmon — and vast, almost incomprehensible quantities of it. For much of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Astoria was the salmon canning capital of the world, which is not the sort of distinction that gets you into many travel brochures, but is genuinely remarkable when you think about it. At its peak in the 1880s, there were something like 39 canneries operating along the lower Columbia River, employing thousands of workers — many of them Chinese immigrants, Finnish fishermen, and Indigenous people from local tribes — and processing millions of cases of salmon every single year. The river was so absurdly abundant with fish that the industry seemed indestructible.
It wasn’t, of course. Overfishing, the arrival of fish traps and mechanised operations, changing markets, and eventually the collapse of wild salmon stocks did for most of it. By the mid-20th century, the canneries had largely gone quiet, and Astoria was left to reinvent itself. These days, it’s tourism that pays the bills — which, given that the place has genuinely excellent bones, seems to be working out rather well.
One of the best reasons to visit is the Hanthorn Cannery Museum, which sits out on Pier 39, right on the river’s edge. The Hanthorn Cannery has the distinction of being the oldest surviving fish processing plant on the lower Columbia River — a title that sounds obscure until you’re actually standing inside the building and realising what an extraordinary thing it is that any of this survived at all. The structure itself is a rambling, weathered affair, the kind of building that creaks and smells faintly of history and engine oil, which is exactly as it should be.
Inside, the museum houses an extensive collection of historic equipment and documents that tell the story of what was once an astonishing industrial enterprise. There are antique fish-cleaning machines that look like they were designed by someone with a very specific grudge against salmon, old canning lines, nets, traps, and all manner of paraphernalia that conjures up the extraordinary scale of what used to happen here. The documents and photographs are particularly good — there’s something genuinely moving about looking at pictures of workers in the early 1900s, standing in rows in their aprons, producing a food product that was being eaten on the other side of the world.
What the museum does well is make you understand that this wasn’t just local history — it was global commerce happening in a small Oregon town at the end of the 19th century. Tinned Columbia River salmon was being shipped to Britain, Europe, and beyond. Astoria, for a brief and glorious period, was feeding the planet. The fact that you can still walk through one of the original plants where this all happened, surrounded by the actual machinery that did it, feels rather special. Or it did to us, anyway.
Pier 39 itself is worth more than just the museum visit. Once you’ve had your fill of industrial heritage — and it does take a while, there’s genuinely a lot to see — there’s a very decent coffee shop on the pier where we had what turned out to be a surprisingly good cup of coffee, which we hadn’t been expecting at all. There is also the Rogue Pier 39 Public House, which is operated by the Rogue Brewery out of Newport, Oregon, and serves an impressive range of their beers alongside a menu of food that is, by any honest assessment, pretty good. We sat there with pints of something dark and hoppy, watching the light go gold over the Columbia as the sun dropped towards the hills, and decided that there are considerably worse ways to spend an evening. The sunset from that pier, beer in hand, is the kind of thing that would feel staged if you saw it in a film.
📍 Visitor Information
- Location: 100 39th St, Astoria, OR 97103 (Pier 39)
- Website: hanthorncannery.com
- Phone: +1 (503) 325-2502
- Opening Hours: Typically open Wednesday–Sunday, 10am–5pm (seasonal — confirm before visiting)
- Entry Fees: Adults approximately $5; children and seniors discounted; under-5s free (confirm current prices on the website)
🗺️ Fort Clatsop & the Lewis and Clark National Historical Park, Astoria
It was November 1805 when the celebrated explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark finally clapped eyes on the Pacific Ocean — and frankly, after nearly two and a half years on the road, who could blame them for being a bit emotional about it. They’d set off from Camp Dubois, Illinois, back in May 1804, under the orders of President Thomas Jefferson, who’d rather ambitiously tasked them with finding a route to the Pacific following the Louisiana Purchase of 1803. That purchase, incidentally, had roughly doubled the size of the United States overnight, which is the sort of property deal that makes your eyes water.
The pair had paddled, trudged, and occasionally argued their way across roughly 8,000 miles of what was, at the time, almost entirely uncharted wilderness. They’d navigated the Missouri River, crossed the Bitterroot Mountains in the most miserable conditions imaginable, and worked their way down the mighty Columbia River — the great artery of the Pacific Northwest — before the ocean finally hove into view. It must have been quite the moment. Rather better than arriving at a Travelodge in Swindon, at any rate.
Needing somewhere to hole up for the winter, the Corps of Discovery — which is what Jefferson had grandly called the expedition — decided to make camp in the dense coastal forest just outside what is now the port city of Astoria, on the north-eastern tip of Oregon. They built a small log fort, which they named Fort Clatsop after the local Clatsop people who’d been, by all accounts, considerably more helpful than the weather. That winter of 1805–06 was wretched: 94 days of near-constant rain, fog, and damp misery. Lewis reportedly noted in his journal that it rained every single day bar twelve. Oregon in winter. Who knew?
The Lewis and Clark National Historical Park — which is what the site is properly called today, managed by the National Park Service — sits close to the mouth of the Columbia River in north-western Oregon, a few miles from Astoria itself. The park was established in 1958, though the area had been recognised as significant long before that. It covers a surprisingly large area, taking in several sites connected to the expedition’s winter stay, and it remains one of the more atmospheric and genuinely interesting stops on what Americans call the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail — a 4,900-mile route that now stretches from Illinois all the way to the Oregon coast.
Practical Information:
- 📍 Location: Fort Clatsop, 92343 Fort Clatsop Road, Astoria, Oregon 97103, USA
- 🌐 Website: www.nps.gov/lewi
- 📞 Phone: +1 503-861-2471
- 🕐 Opening Hours: Generally open daily; visitor centre hours vary seasonally — typically 9am–5pm (summer hours extended). Check the website before visiting as hours change throughout the year
- 🎟️ Entry Fees: Adults (16+): $10 per person; under 16: free. Annual America the Beautiful pass accepted
🏰 Fort Stevens State Park
We rolled up to Fort Stevens State Park not entirely sure what to expect. Forts, in our experience, tend to be either genuinely impressive or a disappointment — a few bits of old brick, a bored attendant, and a gift shop selling fridge magnets. Fort Stevens, I’m delighted to report, turned out to be rather the former.
The fort sits at the mouth of the Columbia River in Hammond, Oregon, and it wasn’t just any old garrison slapped together on a windy headland. This was the anchor of a three-fort Harbor Defence System, working in concert with Fort Canby and Fort Columbia just across the state line in Washington. Three forts, one river mouth. The Americans weren’t messing about.
The place earned its stripes over an astonishing 84 years of continuous service — from the American Civil War, which kicked off in April 1861, right through to the end of World War II in 1945. That’s not a fort, that’s practically a career. To put it in perspective, it outlasted the entire Victorian era and two world wars, which is more than can be said for most of the things built in that period.
The Civil War connection is particularly worth noting. Fort Stevens is the only surviving Civil War-era earthen fort on the entire west coast of the United States. Not one of several. The only one. Earthen forts of this type — essentially reinforced earth ramparts rather than stone or brick — were enormously practical in the 1860s, cheap to build and surprisingly effective at absorbing artillery fire. Most didn’t survive the subsequent century of neglect and development. This one did, and we were genuinely glad of it.
The fort also carries a rather splendid footnote in American military history: in June 1942, a Japanese submarine surfaced off the Oregon coast and lobbed a handful of shells in the fort’s general direction. It was the first time a foreign enemy had fired on a continental American military installation since the War of 1812. Nobody was hurt, the damage was minimal, and the American guns were ordered not to return fire — apparently so as not to give the submarine’s crew the satisfaction of knowing where they’d hit. Whether that was tactical brilliance or bureaucratic paralysis probably depends on who you ask.
When we visited, the military museum and information centre had displays covering the full sweep of the fort’s history, from the Civil War right through to the Second World War. We spent a good while poking around the turn-of-the-century concrete coast artillery gun batteries, which are the sort of brutally functional structures that make you grateful nobody ever had to use them in anger. They’re enormous, cold, and faintly sinister — in the best possible way.
📍 Visitor Information
- Location: 1675 Peter Iredale Rd, Hammond, OR 97121
- Website: oregonstateparks.org
- Phone: +1 503-861-1671
- Opening Hours: Day-use area open daily, dawn to dusk; museum hours seasonal (typically 10am–6pm in summer)
- Entry Fees: Day-use parking fee applies (typically $5 per vehicle); museum entry is free
sunset-beach
🏕️ Cape Disappointment State Park — A Name That Promises Little But Delivers Quite a Lot
We weren’t entirely sure what to expect from somewhere called Cape Disappointment. With a name like that, you might reasonably prepare yourself for a car park, a drizzle, and a shuttered café. The Americans, bless them, are usually quite good at naming things optimistically — Grand Canyon, Great Falls, Magnificent View Road — so a place that had apparently given up before it even started was, perversely, rather intriguing.
As it turned out, Cape Disappointment had form. The name dated back to 1788, when British fur trader John Meares sailed up from the Pacific, squinted into the mist, failed to spot the mouth of the Columbia River he’d been hunting for, and in a spectacular display of British sulking, declared the whole cape a disappointment and sailed off home. The Columbia River, for its part, didn’t especially care. It had been there for rather a long time — around fifteen thousand years, give or take — having carved its way through the Cascades at the end of the last Ice Age. It simply got on with flowing into the sea regardless.
The Americans, when they eventually showed up, were less easily put off. The Lewis and Clark Expedition arrived here in November 1805, having trudged and paddled their way from Missouri — a journey of roughly 8,000 miles — and proceeded to set up winter camp nearby at Fort Clatsop, just across in what is now Oregon. Clark himself noted the cape in his journals and, rather pointedly, did not call it disappointing. He had just crossed a continent, so his tolerance for underwhelming scenery was probably quite high.
Today, Cape Disappointment is a 2,023-acre state park sitting at the southern tip of the Long Beach Peninsula in Washington State, fronted by the Pacific Ocean and looking directly into the mouth of the Columbia River. It’s a surprisingly dramatic spot — all crashing surf, enormous skies, and forested bluffs dropping sharply to the water — which makes the name feel increasingly unfair with every passing minute.
The park’s most celebrated features are its two lighthouses, and they’re rather splendid. The Cape Disappointment Lighthouse itself was completed in 1856, making it the oldest working lighthouse on the entire West Coast of the United States. It’s a handsome brick tower perched on a basalt headland, and it needed to be sturdy — the Columbia River bar, where the river meets the ocean, is one of the most treacherous stretches of water on the Pacific coast. Over the centuries it earned the nickname “the Graveyard of the Pacific,” and the statistics rather support that description: more than two thousand vessels have come to grief here since Europeans began sailing these waters in the late eighteenth century. The lighthouse, along with the North Head Lighthouse completed in 1898 a short distance up the coast, was the American government’s very practical response to all this wreckage. North Head, perched on the headland and catching the full force of Atlantic-bound winds — sorry, Pacific-bound winds — is reportedly one of the windiest locations in the entire country, which explains why it was deemed necessary to build a second lighthouse for ships approaching from the north. We climbed North Head and can confirm: it’s breezy. The sort of breezy that rearranges your face.
Beyond the lighthouses, the park offered a decent network of trails winding through old-growth Sitka spruce and western hemlock, some of which had been standing since before the American Revolution. The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center, built into the cliffs near the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse, gave us a thoroughly well-presented account of the expedition — well worth an hour of anybody’s time, particularly if you enjoy watching grown men in period costume explaining how to build a dugout canoe. And the beach itself was magnificent: long, wild, essentially empty, and absolutely no use whatsoever for swimming, because the surf and the currents here would think nothing of dragging you to Oregon and depositing you somewhere near Astoria.
We liked it enormously, which, given the name, still felt mildly surprising.
📍 Practical Information
- Location: 244 Robert Gray Drive, Ilwaco, WA 98624 (Note: the address 1675 Peter Iredale Rd, Hammond, OR 97121 relates to Fort Stevens State Park in Oregon nearby — Cape Disappointment’s correct address is listed above)
- Website: Washington State Parks — Cape Disappointment
- Phone: +1 (360) 642-3078
- Opening Hours: Open daily year-round; day-use areas typically 6:30 am to dusk; campground open year-round
- Entry Fees: Discover Pass required for vehicle entry — $10 per day or $30 annual pass; Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center entry is free; lighthouse tour fees may apply seasonally (check website for current pricing)
🌅 Heading South: Sunset Beach and the Road to Nowhere (in a Good Way)
Heading south from Astoria on Highway 101, we found ourselves doing what any self-respecting traveller does on a road trip: pulling over for things that weren’t strictly on the itinerary. The Oregon coast doesn’t exactly let you rush past it. It sort of grabs you by the collar.
One of those collar-grabbing moments came when we stopped at Sunset Beach. And before you get too excited, let’s be clear — there’s no town here. No gift shop selling fridge magnets shaped like seagulls, no café with suspiciously expensive scones, no car park attendant giving you the look. It is simply, and rather magnificently, a beach. The Pacific Ocean doing its thing. Nothing more, nothing less.
What makes Sunset Beach worth mentioning — other than the name, which frankly does rather set expectations — is that it marks the southern endpoint, or the northern starting point depending on which way you’re feeling energetic, of the Fort to Sea Trail. This is a 6.5-mile trail that winds its way back to the Lewis and Clark National Historical Park at Fort Clatsop, the replica of the fort where the Corps of Discovery spent a deeply miserable winter in 1805–06. And miserable it genuinely was — it rained for all but twelve days of their stay. Even by Oregon standards, that’s impressive.
Fort Clatsop itself is named after the Clatsop people, the Indigenous tribe who inhabited this stretch of coastline and who were, by all accounts, considerably better prepared for the Oregon winter than Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s bedraggled expedition party. The original fort was built in December 1805 after the Corps had completed their extraordinary 8,000-mile journey from Camp Dubois in Illinois — commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson to find a route to the Pacific and report back on what exactly was out there. The replica fort you visit today was built in 1955, replacing an earlier reconstruction. It’s modest, wooden, and smells faintly of damp history, which feels entirely appropriate.
As the name rather obviously suggests, Sunset Beach is a fine place to watch the sun go down over the Pacific. On a clear evening, it’s genuinely spectacular — the kind of thing that makes you feel briefly philosophical before you remember you left your jumper in the car.
And here’s the thing about that jumper: you will need it. Even in the height of summer, the beach at Sunset Beach has all the warmth of a slightly sympathetic refrigerator. The Pacific Ocean along this stretch of the Oregon coast is notoriously cold, kept that way by the California Current sweeping down from the north. We’re talking water temperatures in the low 50s Fahrenheit even in July and August. The wind off the ocean makes sure the air temperature keeps pace. Pack layers. Pack more layers than you think you need. Then add one more.
One genuinely pleasing quirk of Sunset Beach, however — and something that we weren’t expecting — is that you can drive your car directly onto the beach. This is one of those small, inexplicably satisfying things that makes you feel like the rules don’t apply quite so strictly out here on the Oregon coast. Oregon has a long tradition of public beach access, enshrined in the Oregon Beach Bill of 1967, which ensured that all 363 miles of the state’s coastline remained public land. Part of that legacy means certain beaches allow vehicle access, and Sunset Beach is one of them. There’s something wonderfully absurd about parking your car ten feet from the waterline, getting out, and watching the waves come in. Deeply impractical. Thoroughly enjoyable.
A few miles south of Sunset Beach, we found ourselves rolling into Seaside, a proper old-fashioned coastal town that wears its family-friendly credentials like a badge of honour. And I mean that quite literally — this place has been doing the wholesome seaside thing since the 1870s, when it first began attracting Portlanders looking to escape the summer heat of the Willamette Valley. By the early 1900s, it had firmly established itself as Oregon’s premier seaside resort, complete with a grand turnaround — a circular promenade at the end of Broadway that has become the town’s most recognisable landmark. The promenade itself, or “the Prom” as locals call it, stretches for about two miles along the beachfront and was first paved back in 1920. Very civic-minded of them.
In all honesty, Seaside is not really our kind of town. We found it pleasant enough in the way that a waiting room with decent magazines is pleasant enough — perfectly fine, no complaints as such, but not somewhere you’d rush back to in a hurry. It has the slightly breathless cheerfulness of a place that has decided, once and for all, that fun will be had here whether you like it or not.
That said, if you happen to have children in tow, you will almost certainly get on with Seaside rather better than we did. The wide, sandy beach is genuinely excellent — broad, flat, and seemingly endless, stretching out towards the Pacific with the kind of democratic generosity that makes it ideal for building sandcastles, flying kites, or simply standing there letting the wind make a complete mess of your hair. There is an aquarium, arcades, souvenir shops selling things no rational adult would ever buy, and the general organised chaos that children seem to find absolutely marvellous and adults find mildly exhausting.
One thing, however, redeemed our visit considerably: the brewery. We are not ones to walk past a good brewery, and Seaside did not disappoint on that front. There was decent beer to be had — proper, well-crafted stuff — and after the rigours of exploring a cheerful family resort town for several hours, a cold pint was a very welcome development indeed.
🌊 Cannon Beach — Spectacular, Chilly, and Absolutely Worth It
Cannon Beach sits at the very northern end of Oregon, and it’s one of the most dramatically beautiful stretches of coastline you’ll find anywhere along the entire Pacific Coast. The beach itself is wide and sweeping, with great rolling sand dunes that look like something off a postcard. Lovely stuff.
However — and this is a fairly important however — if you’re picturing yourself sprawled out on a sunlounger, cocktail in hand, working on your tan, then you’ve taken a rather wrong turn. This is the Pacific Northwest of the United States, and the beaches up here operate on entirely different rules to anything you might find in, say, Florida or the Mediterranean. The water is absolutely freezing. Not “oh, a bit nippy” freezing, but genuinely, gasp-out-loud, hypothermia-adjacent freezing. It’s been that way forever, largely because the California Current drags cold water down from the north all year round — a geographical fact the local tourist board tends to gloss over. The same applies to most of the northern California coast too, for that matter.
Even in August, we found ourselves pulling on fleeces in the middle of what was, technically, a sunny day. A sunny day. With fleeces. On a beach. That tells you everything you need to know. Sea mist rolls in without any warning whatsoever, and even when it doesn’t, there’s a cool breeze that makes a mockery of anyone optimistic enough to have packed a pair of shorts as their primary beach outfit.
That said — and we mean this sincerely — it is absolutely gorgeous. We’d go back tomorrow.
Our visit to the north Oregon coast happened to coincide with the Labor Day holiday weekend at the end of August. For those unfamiliar, Labor Day is the first Monday of September in the United States, a federal public holiday that has been celebrated since 1894 when President Grover Cleveland signed it into law, partly to honour the American labour movement and partly, one suspects, to give everyone an excuse for one last summer hurrah before autumn sets in. The result, predictably, is that absolutely everyone in the Pacific Northwest decides to head to the coast at exactly the same time. It was very, very busy. Unsurprisingly. We should have seen that coming, frankly, but there we are.
Having done our dutiful wander around Cannon Beach — which is charming, full of good independent shops, galleries and the sort of tasteful cafés that make you feel slightly underdressed — we decided to head just up the road to Ecola State Park.
Ecola stretches along nine miles of rugged Oregon coastline, sitting on a headland that rises sharply above the Pacific, and it offers some genuinely outstanding viewpoints across the water. The park has been here in various forms since the 1930s, when it was developed as part of the broader Oregon State Parks system, and it’s aged rather well. On a clear day — and we were lucky enough to have one — you can see for miles, with the famous Tillamook Rock Lighthouse sitting about a mile offshore, a brooding Victorian-era structure that was built in 1881 under extremely difficult conditions and decommissioned in 1957. It now sits there looking dramatic and slightly threatening, which seems entirely appropriate for this part of the world.
The main draw is hiking, and the trails here range from gentle coastal strolls to rather more serious scrambles through old-growth Sitka spruce forest. But it’s not exclusively for the energetic. We noticed plenty of people perfectly happily doing absolutely nothing in particular — picnicking on the clifftop, poking about in the rock pools at low tide looking for sea anemones and starfish, and in the case of a small number of genuinely brave souls, surfing in the sort of conditions that made the rest of us feel tired just watching. There’s beach walking too, down at Indian Beach, which is sheltered enough to feel almost civilised. Almost.
Planning your trip
📍 Location
Astoria sits at the north-western tip of Oregon, perched on the southern bank of the Columbia River just a few miles from where it meets the Pacific Ocean. It is the oldest American city west of the Rocky Mountains, occupying a dramatic hillside position that gives much of the town sweeping views across the water to the state of Washington. With a population of around 10,000, it is a small but deeply characterful place — gritty in the best sense, filled with Victorian-era homes climbing steep streets, a working waterfront, and a creative, independent spirit that sets it apart from more polished coastal resorts.
Astoria is in Clatsop County and is connected to Washington State by the Astoria-Megler Bridge, a four-mile span that is one of the longest continuous truss bridges in North America. The nearby coastline, forests, and mouth of the Columbia River give the city a remarkably varied natural setting.
✈️ Getting There
The most practical way to reach Astoria is by car. Portland International Airport (PDX) is the closest major airport, roughly 96 miles to the south-east — about a two-hour drive. From Portland, several routes are available: the most popular takes Highway 26 west before joining Highway 101 north, passing through some impressive temperate rainforest. An alternative is to take I-5 north to Longview in Washington, cross the bridge into Oregon, and then follow Highway 30 west along the Columbia River — a scenic river road option worth considering.
Highway 30 can also be driven the entire way from Portland, hugging the Columbia River for much of the journey. Rental cars are available at PDX and are strongly recommended for getting around once you arrive.
For those preferring not to drive, there are coach connections between Portland and Astoria. The NW Connector links Portland to Astoria along the Columbia River corridor, and the NorthWest POINT service runs from Portland via Seaside and Cannon Beach. The Astoria Transit Center on Marine Drive serves as the hub for these routes.
Astoria does not have its own commercial airport, and there is no direct train service.
🚶 Getting Around
Astoria is a walkable town in its central areas, and the flat riverfront is particularly easy to navigate on foot. The paved Astoria Riverwalk stretches over five miles from the eastern end of town to Pier 3 at the western end, and most of the main attractions, restaurants, and galleries are within a short walk of it or the downtown grid.
The most charming way to travel the waterfront is aboard the Astoria Riverfront Trolley, affectionately known as “Old 300” — a beautifully restored 1913 streetcar that trundles along the river, stopping near the maritime museum, breweries, restaurants, and the town centre. It runs seasonally from March through November, making roughly one circuit per hour, though it operates without a fixed timetable. A single ride costs $1 and an all-day hop-on, hop-off pass is $2. You can also flag it down from the street by waving a dollar bill — a genuinely delightful way to get about.
Cycling is another good option along the flat riverside path; bike hire is available locally. For the steeper residential streets climbing the hillside, you will want a car or sturdy legs, as gradients can be significant.
Local bus services run by Sunset Empire Transportation District connect Astoria with surrounding communities including Warrenton, Seaside, and Cannon Beach.
The Best Time to Visit Oregon
Oregon is one of the most geographically diverse states in the USA, encompassing rugged Pacific coastline, dense temperate rainforests, volcanic peaks, high desert plateaus, and fertile river valleys. Knowing when to visit — and where to go — makes all the difference between a memorable journey and a soggy disappointment. This guide breaks down the best times to visit by season and by region, with packing advice for each time of year.
🌸 Spring (March–May)
Spring is a season of dramatic transformation in Oregon. Wildflowers carpet the Columbia River Gorge and the Willamette Valley bursts into colour with cherry blossom and tulip blooms. The crowds are thin, prices are reasonable, and the landscape feels genuinely alive.
Willamette Valley & Portland Portland springs to life in April, with the Japanese Garden at its finest and the International Rose Test Garden beginning to bud. The city’s famous food markets and coffee culture are best enjoyed without summer queues. Expect overcast skies and regular showers through March, gradually giving way to mild, bright days in May. The valley’s wine country — particularly around Dundee Hills — is lovely in spring, with green vineyards and damp, fresh air.
Columbia River Gorge This is arguably the finest time to visit the Gorge. Waterfalls are thundering at full capacity from snowmelt, and the wildflower displays on the eastern side — particularly around Rowena Crest — are extraordinary in late March and April. The Historic Columbia River Highway is fully accessible and relatively uncrowded.
Oregon Coast Spring brings dramatic, brooding skies and powerful surf to the coast. While swimming is out of the question (it nearly always is), storm-watching and grey whale migration viewing (March–May) make this a compelling time to visit. Towns like Cannon Beach and Newport are quiet, and accommodation rates are significantly lower.
Central Oregon & the High Desert Bend and the surrounding high desert thaw slowly. March can still be wintry at elevation, but by May the Smith Rock State Park trails are in excellent condition and the crowds have not yet arrived. Wildflowers begin appearing on the desert floor in April and May.
Southern Oregon (Crater Lake, Rogue Valley) Crater Lake typically remains snowbound into May or even June. The rim road is often closed, though the park itself is accessible for snowshoeing. The Rogue Valley — home to Ashland’s Shakespeare Festival — opens its theatre season in February and runs through autumn, making spring an excellent time to combine culture and scenery.
🎒 What to Pack for Spring Layering is essential: a waterproof shell or rain jacket, fleece mid-layer, and moisture-wicking base layers. Pack waterproof walking boots for trail use, a compact umbrella for city days, and sun protection for the high desert and clear-day hikes. Temperatures swing considerably between coast, city, and high elevation — a light down gilet bridges the gap neatly.
☀️ Summer (June–August)
Summer is peak season across most of Oregon, and for good reason. The Cascades are fully accessible, the coast is reliably cool and bright, and long daylight hours give visitors maximum time outdoors. It is also the busiest and most expensive time to travel.
Portland & the Willamette Valley Portland summers are warm and largely dry — a genuine surprise to many visitors expecting Pacific gloom. Temperatures typically sit between 24°C and 30°C in July and August. The Saturday Market, food truck pods, and outdoor festivals are in full swing. The valley’s lavender farms and wineries welcome visitors from June onwards.
Columbia River Gorge Waterfalls are lower in volume than spring but the hiking trails are at their best — dry underfoot, with sweeping views along the gorge rim. Popular trails like Angel’s Rest and Dog Mountain can become very busy on weekends. Visit on weekdays or arrive early to secure parking.
Oregon Coast The coast is never hot — that is part of its charm. Summer averages sit around 16°C to 19°C, with frequent morning mist burning off by midday. The coastal towns are busy but not overwhelmed. Cannon Beach, Seaside, and Pacific City all have a relaxed, unhurried atmosphere even at peak times. Haystack Rock’s tide pools are best explored at low tide during long summer evenings.
Central Oregon & the High Desert Bend transforms into a hub of outdoor activity in summer. Mountain biking, white-water rafting on the Deschutes River, rock climbing at Smith Rock, and hiking around the Three Sisters Wilderness are all at their prime. Temperatures can exceed 35°C in July — hot by Oregon standards — and afternoon thunderstorms are possible. The high desert air is very dry, so hydration is critical.
Mount Hood & the Cascades Timberline Lodge is open year-round, but summer offers the full grandeur of the mountain without snow obscuring lower trails. Wildflower meadows bloom below treeline in July, and the Ramona Falls and Mirror Lake trails are among the finest day hikes in the state. Crater Lake’s rim road typically opens fully by late June, revealing one of the most vivid blue lakes on Earth.
Southern Oregon The Rogue River is superb for rafting and kayaking in summer. Illinois Valley is warm and dry, perfect for exploring the Oregon Caves National Monument. Ashland’s Shakespeare Festival is at its most vibrant in July and August, combining outdoor theatre with excellent local wine and food.
🎒 What to Pack for Summer Breathable, moisture-wicking layers work year-round on the coast; add a light fleece or windproof jacket for evenings. For the high desert and Cascades, sun cream with high SPF, sunglasses, and a wide-brimmed hat are non-negotiable. Carry at least two litres of water per person for any hike above 900 metres. Sturdy trail shoes or boots, lightweight waterproof layer for afternoon thunderstorms, and insect repellent for forest trails round out the kit.
🍂 Autumn (September–November)
Autumn is many locals’ favourite season — and for good reason. Summer crowds fade, temperatures remain pleasant, the foliage turns spectacular, and the harvest season transforms the Willamette Valley and Rogue Valley into culinary destinations.
Portland & the Willamette Valley September is arguably the finest month in Portland. The city is warm, dry, and still lively, without the peak-season pressure. The Willamette Valley’s wine harvest begins in late September, and many wineries open their crush pads to visitors. October brings golden light and falling leaves to Forest Park — one of the largest urban forests in the USA — and the city’s autumn food scene is outstanding.
Columbia River Gorge Autumn foliage along the Gorge is stunning from mid-October into early November. The eastern end of the Historic Columbia River Highway offers particularly vivid colour against the basalt cliffs. Waterfalls return to reasonable volume as autumn rains begin, and weekend crowds drop significantly after Labour Day.
Oregon Coast Storm season begins in earnest by November, which is precisely why storm-watchers descend on Cannon Beach and Depoe Bay. September and October offer the most pleasant coast conditions — mild, bright afternoons and dramatic wave action. The famous grey whale southward migration begins in November.
Central Oregon & the High Desert September remains warm and dry in Bend. Smith Rock is glorious in autumn light, and the crowds thin considerably after the school holidays end. By October, nights are cold at elevation. Snow can arrive at altitude by late October, making early-season snowshoeing possible around Mount Bachelor.
Mount Hood & the Cascades Snow arrives at Timberline Lodge as early as October, and the ski season can begin by November. The autumn foliage in the Hood River Valley is among the most beautiful in the Pacific Northwest — paired with the valley’s famous apple and pear harvest, it makes an excellent weekend destination from Portland.
Southern Oregon Crater Lake in autumn is exceptional: cooler temperatures, thinner crowds, and the possibility of first snowfall dusting the rim for dramatic contrast against the lake’s deep blue. The Rogue Valley harvest season peaks in September and October, with farm stands lining the highways.
🎒 What to Pack for Autumn A quality waterproof jacket becomes increasingly important as the season progresses. Warm mid-layers, a wool or fleece hat, and gloves are sensible from October onwards. Waterproof walking boots are strongly advised for trail use. Pack a few lighter layers for early autumn warmth, transitioning to heavier insulation and thermals for November visits, particularly at elevation.
❄️ Winter (December–February)
Winter Oregon is not for everyone — but for those who seek solitude, dramatic scenery, and a genuine sense of wilderness, it offers something remarkable. Prices plummet, crowds disappear, and the landscape takes on a raw, elemental quality.
Portland & the Willamette Valley Portland winters are grey, damp, and mild — rarely below freezing in the city itself, but consistently overcast. This is the city at its most authentic: independent bookshops, coffee houses, museums, and covered markets come into their own when outdoor activities are curtailed. The Portland Art Museum and OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry) are excellent rainy-day options. Occasional ice storms do occur and can disrupt travel — worth monitoring forecasts.
Columbia River Gorge Winter transforms the Gorge into something ethereal. Waterfalls partially freeze in hard cold snaps, ice coats the basalt walls, and the whole landscape is stripped back to its geological bones. Multnomah Falls is spectacular year-round and accessible even in winter. Many of the higher trails are closed or icy — check conditions before setting out.
Oregon Coast Storm-watching is the headline winter activity, and the Oregon Coast does it superbly. Hotels in Cannon Beach, Lincoln City, and Depoe Bay offer storm-watching packages during the roughest weather. The grey whale northward migration (December–January) is another draw. The coast remains relatively mild compared to inland Oregon, though wind chill can be brutal.
Central Oregon & the High Desert Mount Bachelor near Bend is one of the finest ski resorts in the Pacific Northwest, with a season typically running from November through April. Snowshoeing and cross-country skiing are popular alternatives for non-downhill skiers. Bend itself is surprisingly lively in winter, with a strong après-ski culture and a thriving local brewery scene.
Mount Hood & the Cascades Timberline Lodge — Oregon’s most iconic building — comes fully into its own in winter. Skiing and snowboarding on the mountain are excellent, and the historic lodge itself is a destination in its own right. Government Camp and surrounding communities offer a genuine mountain winter experience less than 90 minutes from Portland.
Southern Oregon (Crater Lake) Crater Lake in winter is one of Oregon’s most dramatic sights: the deep blue lake, the snow-covered rim, and the near-absolute silence. Access is limited to the south entrance, and the rim drive is closed, but ranger-led snowshoe walks are available on weekends. It is not easy to reach in winter, but for those who make the effort, it is genuinely unforgettable.
🎒 What to Pack for Winter Thermal base layers, a heavy insulating mid-layer, and a fully waterproof and windproof outer shell are essential. Waterproof boots with good ankle support and grip (or attachable microspikes for icy trails) are strongly advised. Pack warm accessories — hat, gloves, buff or scarf — and carry emergency layers if venturing to elevation. Driving in winter may require snow chains in mountain areas: check Oregon DOT road conditions before any mountain journey
🌟 The Overall Best Time to Visit Oregon
If forced to name a single best time to visit Oregon, late May through early October offers the most dependable conditions across the widest range of regions and activities. September stands out as the sweet spot: the summer crowds have thinned, the weather remains warm and mostly dry across the state, autumn colour is beginning in the mountains, the Willamette Valley harvest is under way, and accommodation rates start to ease. The coast is at its most pleasant, Crater Lake’s rim road is still open, and Portland is warm enough to explore entirely on foot.
That said, Oregon rewards visitors in every season. A winter storm-watcher on the coast, a spring wildflower hiker in the Gorge, or a ski week at Mount Bachelor will each find their own version of the state at its finest. The real key is matching your chosen region and activity to the season — Oregon is too varied and too dramatic to be reduced to a single best time. Choose your landscape, then let the season follow.
Eating and drinking in Astoria
🍺 Astoria’s Surprisingly Good Beer Scene
For a town of barely ten thousand people sitting at the soggy northern tip of the Oregon coast, Astoria punches well above its weight when it comes to breweries and pubs. We’re not entirely sure how this happened — perhaps it’s the maritime climate, which makes you want a decent pint rather more urgently than somewhere sunny — but however it came about, we were not complaining.
🏛️ Fort George Brewery and Pub
The Fort George Brewery and Pub sits in the heart of downtown Astoria, occupying a building with a history almost as interesting as the beer. The site itself was the location of the original Fort George, established in 1811 by the Pacific Fur Company — which makes it, rather satisfyingly, one of the oldest continuously used commercial sites on the entire west coast of America. The current brewery moved in during 2007 and has been doing a thoroughly good job ever since.
The space inside is large and genuinely comfortable, with the sort of relaxed, unpretentious atmosphere that good brewpubs tend to have when they’re not trying too hard to look like good brewpubs. There’s also decent outdoor seating for the summer months, which in Astoria means those two or three weeks in August when it doesn’t actually rain.
🖤 Dark Beer — In Summer, No Less
Now, here’s the thing about visiting breweries in summer. Every single one of them, from Portland to Portsmouth, seems to decide that warm weather means everyone wants to drink something that tastes faintly of fizzy lemonade. Pale ales, session IPAs, wheat beers — all perfectly fine, we’re sure, but not really what we’re after. We like our dark beers. Stouts, porters, something with a bit of body and character to it.
Fort George, to their considerable credit, actually had a couple of dark beers on tap even in the height of summer. This was, frankly, something of a minor miracle, and we appreciated it more than they probably realised.
🍕 Vegan Pizza — Better Than Expected
The food menu leans heavily on pizza, which on the face of it presents us with a problem, since we’re vegan and pizza tends to involve a fairly enthusiastic quantity of cheese. However — and this is where Fort George earned extra marks — they had vegan cheese available and were perfectly happy to veganise a pizza for us without making us feel like we’d asked for something utterly unreasonable. Which, in some establishments, we very much have.
🏭 Buoy Beer Company — Industrial Chic on the Columbia
If Fort George has the history and the downtown charm, the Buoy Beer Company has something rather different going for it — a prime spot right on the Astoria waterfront, with all the gritty, functional character you’d expect from a working river town that’s been loading and unloading ships since the early nineteenth century.
The building itself leans into that industrial feel without apology. Exposed fittings, utilitarian layout, the general aesthetic of somewhere that used to do something genuinely useful before beer got involved. It’s not cosy in the Fort George sense, but it has its own sort of honest, no-nonsense atmosphere that feels entirely appropriate for a brewery sitting on the banks of the Columbia River — one of the great working rivers of the American west, stretching some 1,243 miles from the Canadian Rockies all the way down to where it meets the Pacific, right here at Astoria.
🌊 The View Makes Up For a Lot
What Buoy does have, and what genuinely sets it apart, is the outdoor seating with views straight out across the Columbia. On a decent day — and we were fortunate enough to have one — this is really rather special. The river here is enormous, nearly three miles wide as it approaches the coast, and watching the traffic move across it while nursing a pint is one of those simple pleasures that reminds you why you bothered leaving home in the first place.
🍺 The Porter Was the Right Call
We went for their porter, which was very good indeed — dark, smooth, properly flavoured, exactly what a porter ought to be. No complaints whatsoever on that front.
🥗 Less Good News for the Vegans
The food menu, however, was where things became a little more challenging. The fare on offer was fairly standard brewpub territory — burgers, sandwiches, that sort of thing — which is perfectly fine if you eat everything, but the options for vegans and vegetarians were, to put it generously, limited. We managed, as we always do, but it required a certain amount of creative menu reading and the quiet resignation of people who have been in this situation rather a lot.
🍺 Astoria Brewing Company — Astoria’s Oldest Microbrewery
Not far from the Buoy Brewery — and I mean not far at all, which either speaks brilliantly to Astoria’s commitment to craft beer or rather poorly to its commitment to anything else — sits the Astoria Brewing Company, the oldest microbrewery in town. It has been serving the good people of Astoria since 1994, which in American microbrewery terms practically makes it a medieval institution.
The place has outside seating with views across the Columbia River, which, for those unfamiliar, is an absolute beast of a waterway — over 1,900 miles long and the largest river flowing into the Pacific from North America. On a clear day, sitting out there with a cold pint, you could almost convince yourself you were somewhere terrifically important. Almost.
Now, I’ll be honest — and regular readers will know this is becoming a somewhat tedious theme of this trip — the vegan options were, once again, not exactly inspiring. I suspect that somewhere in the Pacific Northwest there exists a mythical restaurant that caters brilliantly to both craft beer enthusiasts and dedicated vegans, but we had clearly not found it yet. So, in the grand tradition of the British abroad making the best of things, we ordered a bowl of chips — sorry, fries — and got on with the important business of drinking.
And that important business took the form of a flight of tasters, which is really the only sensible way to approach a brewery of this age and reputation. A flight, for the uninitiated, is essentially a row of small glasses containing different beers, allowing you to sample your way across the menu without committing to a full pint of something you might not enjoy. It is, frankly, one of America’s better ideas.
I must say — and I don’t hand out compliments lightly, particularly not to former colonies — the beers were very good indeed. Proper, well-crafted stuff.
🍺 Rogue Pub — Pier 39
A couple of miles out from the centre, sitting at the end of Pier 39, we found the Rogue Pub — and very glad we were too. Now, Pier 39 itself has been around since 1978, when it was developed as a tourist attraction on the old San Francisco waterfront, which has a history stretching back to the Gold Rush days of the 1840s and 1850s, when this stretch of the bay was a chaotic tangle of ships, saloons, and men with very questionable personal hygiene. These days it’s a good deal more civilised, and the Rogue Pub sits out there doing its bit to uphold the noble tradition of cold beer and decent food.
🥩 The Food and the Beer
The food here was genuinely good — and I don’t say that lightly, because I’ve eaten my fair share of mediocre pub meals in places that clearly thought presentation was more important than flavour. The Rogue, to its considerable credit, got it right. But the real star of the show was the stouts. Mighty fine, as we said at the time, and we stand by that. The Rogue Brewing Company, which runs the pub, has been making craft beer since 1988, originally down in Ashland, Oregon, before eventually spreading its considerable tentacles across the Pacific Northwest and beyond. They know what they’re doing with a dark beer, and it showed.
🌅 The Sunset Deck — Get There Early
The best thing about the Rogue, though — and this is the bit worth knowing before you turn up — was the outdoor deck. If we managed to grab a spot on the far west side of the deck, we had ourselves a front-row seat for the sunset over San Francisco Bay. San Francisco sunsets, it should be said, are a genuinely spectacular business. The combination of the bay, the hills, the Golden Gate Bridge off to the left, and the particular quality of the late afternoon light on the Pacific coast produces something that even the most jaded of us had to admit was rather lovely.
🚶 No Room? No Problem
If the deck was full — and it does fill up, because evidently other people have also worked out that sunsets are nice — we simply wandered off the pub and strolled down the west side of the pier. There’s a perfectly decent vantage point down there, free of charge, and the view is more or less the same. You just don’t have a pint in your hand, which is obviously a significant disadvantage, but one can’t have everything.
🌱 Finding Vegan Food on the Road — A Minor Miracle
Being vegan whilst travelling is, if we’re completely honest, a bit of a pain in the backside. Not a catastrophic, end-of-the-world kind of pain — more the sort of low-level, grinding inconvenience that British people are absolutely brilliant at enduring quietly whilst muttering under their breath. When we were staying in smaller towns, the options had a tendency to shrink considerably. You’d wander into what passed for a restaurant, squint hopefully at the menu, and find yourself staring at a column of steaks, a column of burgers, and one sad little asterisk pointing to a side salad. Thrilling stuff.
To be fair, things had been improving. It genuinely had been getting easier to track down decent vegan options, both in restaurants and in supermarkets — which, when you think back even ten years, would have seemed like pure fantasy. In the early 2010s, asking for a vegan meal in a small American town could produce a reaction roughly equivalent to asking for the moon on a stick. These days, at least there’s usually something edible hiding on the menu if you look hard enough.
But the real jackpot — the holy grail, if you will — was stumbling across somewhere that was exclusively vegan or vegetarian. No picking through the menu like a detective. No anxious questioning of a bewildered waiter. No mysterious “may contain” disclaimers. Just food you could actually eat, made by people who actually understood what that meant.
So we were genuinely taken aback — pleasantly gobsmacked, in fact — when we discovered the Blue Scorcher Cafe Bakery. We hadn’t expected anything of the sort. We were, after all, in Astoria, Oregon — a small, handsome port city perched at the mouth of the Columbia River, with a population of not much more than ten thousand souls. Astoria, incidentally, has been kicking around since 1811, making it one of the oldest American settlements west of the Rocky Mountains, which gives it a pleasingly battered, lived-in sort of character. It was a major fur trading hub in the early nineteenth century, and later became a significant fishing and canning port — salted salmon being the great industry of the region for much of the late 1800s. These days it trades more on its considerable charm than on fish, though it still smells faintly of the sea, which we considered a bonus.
The Blue Scorcher shared its building with the Fort George Brewery, which — given that we don’t drink — was absolutely no use to us whatsoever, but we appreciated the neighbourhood. Fort George itself is named after a trading post established on that site in 1811 by John Jacob Astor’s Pacific Fur Company, later renamed Fort George by the British during the War of 1812. History, then, lurking in the foundations.
The one fly in the ointment — and there’s always a fly — was that the Blue Scorcher only opened for breakfast and lunch. Which meant that come evening, we were back to squinting at menus again. Can’t have everything, apparently.
Where to stay
1. At the Helm Hotel
At The Helm Hotel and Pub sits right on the waterfront in Ilwaco, Washington, a short drive across the Columbia River from Astoria. Housed in a building constructed from reclaimed timber, the adults-only boutique hotel has nine individually designed rooms, many with port views, eco-friendly fireplaces, and heated bathroom floors. Guests receive a complimentary drink on arrival and breakfast delivered to their room each morning. The on-site Waterline Pub serves locally sourced seafood and a solid selection of local beers. A cedar sauna and bookable hot tub are also available on site. Rooms start from around $325 per night. It’s a well-regarded option for couples looking for a quiet, maritime-themed stay in the area.
2. Astoria Riverwalk Inn
The Astoria Riverwalk Inn sits on the waterfront in Astoria, Oregon, and has the distinction of being the town’s first waterfront hotel, originally opened in 1968 as the Red Lion-Thunderbird Motor Inn. Owned by the Port of Astoria, the property has undergone significant renovation and now offers 115 rooms, each with a private balcony looking out over the marina, the Columbia River, and the Astoria-Megler Bridge. Complimentary amenities include continental breakfast, Wi-Fi, parking, use of bicycles for exploring the four-mile Riverwalk, and a 24-hour gym. The lobby features a fireplace and serves coffee and tea around the clock. The hotel is within easy reach of the Riverfront Trolley and several local museums, making it a practical base for exploring the area.
3. The Norblad Hotel
The Norblad Hotel opened in 1924 in a building designed by architect John E. Wicks, and it remains the oldest operating hotel in Astoria — itself the oldest settlement west of the Rockies. Situated in the heart of downtown, it sits within a block of Fort George Brewery, local distilleries, coffee shops and restaurants, with the waterfront a short walk away. The building was sympathetically renovated after 2007, with the original floor plan preserved and period details — apron sinks, crystal doorknobs, the original check-in desk — all retained. Rooms are simply furnished with timber floors and a minimalist aesthetic; some share bathrooms, though these are single-use and well maintained. There is a communal kitchen, free Wi-fi, and the whole thing is kept notably clean. Good value for a characterful base in a genuinely interesting town.
CAMPING OPTIONS
Fort Stevens has grown into a 4,300-acre park offering an exploration of history, nature, and many recreational opportunities.
Camping, beach-combing, freshwater lake swimming, trails, wildlife viewing, a historic shipwreck, and a historic military fort make Fort Stevens a uniquely diverse park. The park also has a network of nine miles of paved bicycle trails and six miles of hiking trails that allow for exploring a variety of habitats including spruce and hemlock forests, wetlands, dunes, and shore pine areas.
Coffenbury Lake has two swimming areas, a picnic area, restrooms, and a boat ramp. Two smaller neighbouring lakes are great for fishing and canoeing.
There are 176 RV sites, yurts, cabins and tent camping.
Cape Disappointment is a 2,023-acre camping park on the Long Beach Peninsula, fronted by the Pacific Ocean and looking into the mouth of the Columbia River. The park offers yurts, cabins and unique historic vacation homes to meet travellers’ diverse lodging needs.
Cape Disappointment has 137 standard campsites, 50 full-hookup sites, 18 partial-hookup sites with water and electricity, five primitive hiker/biker campsites first come first served, 14 yurts and three cabins.
More to Explore
