This stretch of the trip wasn’t what I expected—but I was surprisingly content. The waves were blown out, visibility was low, and the forecast wasn’t doing me any favors. Still, the eerie, cinematic coastline and a couple unexpected connections was a pretty surreal experience. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time as I had to continue North for an appointment at Land Cruisers Northwest in Portland to finally resolve my lingering idle issue.

I started the morning scouting for waves. I’d done only light research and was relying on last-minute recs from friends back home. Compared to the San Diego coast though, everything felt unfamiliar. It seemed full of untapped potential—every cove, cliff, and jetty looked like it could be something—but nothing was working. I stopped at a few breaks around Brookings, including one called “Rainbows,” hoping to sneak into a clean shoulder or two. I kept imagining how this trip might evolve—solo surf missions up the coast, just me and the 7’0” twin pin I’d brought for this purpose. It was likely not healthy to have fantasized this portion of the trip like I did, but I found pleasure in this alternative version nevertheless.

In the meantime, I shifted focus to some logistics—working on a lease agreement to rent out my spare car back in San Diego—and planned to photograph Natural Bridges up the coast. Just before heading to the shoot location for sunset, I ran into Jay.

He’d seen the Land Cruiser and followed me into a parking lot to chat. His 4Runner, built for a similar mission, had drawn him into the same type of solo, creative pursuit. We talked rigs, photography, and the path that brought us both here. He’d been balancing work as a mechanic with shooting gigs for years—but had recently gone full-time on the road to chase photography head-on.

We only talked briefly—just enough to exchange backstories and socials—but that moment ended up meaning more than I realized at the time. Since then, Jay’s become an incredible mentor. He’s shared advice, encouragement, and nine years of lessons from an industry I’m just starting to understand. If you’re reading this, Jay—thank you. Your willingness to help without asking for anything in return has been one of the highlights of this trip. It’s people like you who remind me that not everyone’s in it just for themselves.

Later that same day, I made it to Natural Bridges just before sunset. The haze was thick. Not ideal for the shot I’d envisioned—clear air, deep contrast, and the jagged formations staggered cleanly down the coast. But, like many moments on this trip, I had to work with what I was given.

That’s when I met Zach.

He walked down the overgrown path to a lesser-known viewpoint—not the main trail, which leads to a weaker vantage. A small detail, but a good reminder: sometimes the better path isn’t the most obvious one. We exchanged a quick hello, followed by a quiet conversation that somehow packed the past 20 something years of life into a few minutes.

Zach, too, had recently left a full-time job. Photography was more of a passion project for him than a business, but his work was clearly professional-grade. After the shoot, I saw what he captured. The conditions were tough, but his experience showed—he managed to create something strong from a scene I’d almost written off.

Luckily, I had a bit of luck too. While editing and practicing some slow shutter techniques, I ended up with a couple shots that surprised me. In typical fashion, they weren’t what I had envisioned—and I’m still incredibly critical of them—but they were unique, unexpected, and special in their own way. Which, metaphorically, feels pretty aligned with how this trip ended up going.

Zach and I have stayed in touch. Like Jay, he didn’t need to spend time talking with a stranger. But he did. And on what was otherwise a solo, hazy stretch of the trip, those interactions carried more weight than they probably realized. They reminded me I’m not the only one out here burning fuel in search of something meaningful—whatever shape that ends up taking.

That night, I drove north to Coos Bay to camp—watching my timeline tighten as I made my way toward Portland.