Day 1
Melissa and I give it a go. We pull in a rest stop, “Let’s wait for the crowd thin.” “Looks like the folks are wearing masks, let’s give it a go.” Returning to the car I ask, “Do you think the airflow in the bathrooms is adequate here?” while rubbing sanitizer on my hands. I’ve made this trip many times, and even with this pandemic edge , the scenery and the traffic look the same, beautiful as I remember, as we follow the Columbia River to the sea. Arriving at the cottage, the clouds have cleared.
Without a splash
sinking into the sea
the setting sun
Day 2
The sun rose this morning behind the clouds. We head out for a morning walk in the sun’s filtered light. The tide is low and the beach stretches far to the sea. There are a few folks passing by among the few scattered rocks and branches.
Beyond the tide
a bare branch lies,
the crest of a wave
The closest place to whale watch is twenty miles north at Oswald State Park. It is afternoon and we arrive at the pullout. We realize we are not the only ones looking for a chance to spot a gray whale on their migration south. The turnouts are full of people. After continuing down the road we find space in a turnout a fair distance away from others. Setting up our binoculars we begin to scan the open waters looking for a big whale breath, a vertical spray of mist or the slap of a tail. Looking and looking and looking, as the sea slowly moves up and down with it’s own breath, we find it is getting dark and decide it is time to return to the cottage. We arrive safely home and sit quietly at the outdoor table.
Adorning the cottage
Coffeeberry shrub in bloom,
A hummingbird happens by
Day 3
The storm arrived in the night. The sound of the waves increase in intensity, similar to the sound of a strong wind blowing through the Western Red Cedar in our backyard at home. After the morning rain we decide to take a walk. The sea whips up a froth, the result of the turning waves mixing with decaying organic matter from below the surface. This foam covers the beach and debri like an overnight snow. I am finding the coast a place of constant change. On our walks together, I experience changes taking place from moment to moment, without time to go forward or backward.
Seagulls gather
a fish flip-flops on the sand
raindrops begin to fall
Day 4
Day 5
Above the rock wall
Giant Canes sway in the wind
giving us a wave goodbye!
On the drive home we make our first rest stop. I shut off the engine and watch. There are people with and without masks, some walking in, some walking out, some walking their dogs. They move in waves, some in a rush, others taking their time. The crowd thins and we decide it is time to pee. We return to the car and I ask, “Do you think the airflow in the bathroom was adequate?” rubbing sanitizer on my hands.
