Day 1
Melissa and I traveled to Tierra Del Mar on the Oregon Coast. Tierra Del Mar is a small community north of Pacific City. We have made several trips to the coast together and I have made many more before we met. We were to meet family, but as happens, in the last minute, plans change. After picking up the key and a light dinner, we arrived at the house in the evening twilight. I parked and turned the key. The engine’s vibrations settled to hum, then quiet. We walked to the the beach.
sunset waves, I blink
in the dark a stretching yawn
in still winds, I dream
Day 2
After breakfast we walked north along the beach. We were looking for a trailhead that would take us on a loop through a Sitka forest. We found the trailhead and headed in. On the trail we met a lady who was a distressed. She asked us if we’d seen a tall man in his 80’s, in a blue shirt, wearing hearing aids. They had been separated for about half an hour. We insisted on helping and came up with a plan to split up. We followed the loop in opposite directions with a plan to reconnect. I had only walked a short distance before I ran across a man fitting the description. Although he was a bit anxious, he was proudly holding two chanterelle mushrooms (which I later found out it was a rare find for the time of year). We reunited. I was relieved that he was okay. We talked for sometime about life on the coast and how to prepare Chanterelle’s and Samphire.
the morning fog lifts
forest floor dappled in sun
hands lightly holding
Day 3
A walk on the beach. We take off our shoes, splashing our feet in the water. The morning has left me with sense of appreciation. In this state, I find myself in awe as witness to the life beneath my feet, life in each step walking along this little stretch of water and land.
on delicate cycle
splashing then a tumble dry
toes play in the surf
Day 4
Day 5
For the most part, over the years, traveling to the coast has been a getaway from everyday life that turned into a feeling of dread on the return home. Today, the getting ready, the time at the coast, the returning home, are feeling as part of the same experience. Maybe it was the small fish, washing up in the waves, then swimming back to the sea in the receding waves, over and over and over again, switching direction in one swift motion. I wonder why I make the things I want to get away from so big and and powerful when all they are waves and here I am swimming up down this narrow strip of my existence, over and over and over.
we start our way home
rain falling -the fisherfolk
head out to sea
