Amid the weather that changes from one minute to the next today, I decided Lucy and I needed to get out to a beach for some play. We drove to the Smelt Sands Park, biting off the residential portion of our walk to the beach; that would allow us – read me – more energy for the beach.
As I parked the car, with Lucy bouncing around the front seats in anticipation, the snow flakes began to drift down once more. As I leashed Lucy up, clicked the ‘lock’ button on the key (times do change, don’t they), and managed to get my hands gloved and my ears muffed, the snow was seriously falling, and the wind off the water was anything but warm. I walked a few feet, thinking this was a really dumb idea, and wondered if we should wait in the car, or go home. Thankfully we carried on.
Right at the parking lot you can pick up the 804 Trail that runs along the ocean bank for about a mile or so, and, if you go north, will eventually deposit you at my favourite stretch of wide, open beach. As we walked toward the beach, snow dissipating, I saw what looked like a chunk of wood, or a large stone, perched about 10 feet above the water. Something about it struck me as odd, and I stopped to look longer, wondering why it was intriguing me so. All of a sudden I realized it wasn’t a rock or piece of wood – it was a seal, resting. Resting way above the water, on some low brush/lawn, with a million dollar view of the Pacific Ocean – not that it doesn’t have an awesome view of the ocean every day. How did it get way up there? Why was it way up there? Who knows. Resting, maybe readying to birth a pup? Why was it all alone, at least as far as I could see? A woman walking her bike came along and we chatted about the seal, watching it lie there. Finally Lucy and I went on our way.
Our journey continued, we moved toward the open beach area, Lucy pestering me to throw the ball. I glanced above me and overhead a Golden eagle flew south. By the time we got to the beach the clouds had moved off to the sides of the sky (it’s no wonder we thought the earth was flat), and the sun was warming the walk.
When I was here in Yachats in June last summer, I walked to the beach area below the Wayside Lodge and scattered the last of Rita’s ashes into the ocean. I knew that today I wanted to make the journey again, so off Lucy and I went, me throwing the ball, she retrieving it. We had to cross over a few creeks emptying into the Pacific, all of which were running higher than normal with rains and melting snows. I’m not talking knee-deep creeks, but wide creeks with rocks strewn throughout. I’m getting better with my balance as I cross the creeks, stepping from stone to stone, with the occasional foray into water. Bear in mind I have runners on! Semi-waterproof yes, but not rubber boots. Lucy, of course, ran back and forth across the water, a few times sharing my tiny foothold of a rock, me trying to shoo her away – telling her to find her own stepping stone.
We walked for about a half hour to get to the Wayside step area, and when we got there I stood for a few moments, remembering last June, and why I was there, and the song I listened to on my ipod. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_NpxTWbovE
This clip is similar to the concert that Rita and I saw kd perform at in Vancouver.
While I walked I reflected on the week, recalling the too many anniversaries that perhaps had been vying for my attention. Four years ago this week Rita had her initial surgery and we learned what we were truly up against. Four years ago this week my Grandmother died, the day before Rita’s surgery. And a year ago we had just returned home to Davis Bay, from the Oregon Coast, knowing that we had turned yet another corner.
The walk was refreshing, releasing, and the ocean, as always, was wide enough and deep enough to hold all that I needed to put down. It occurred to me that perhaps one of the many reasons I so love the coast here is that the surf is loud enough to drown out the chatter in my head - monkey mind, as Rita used to call it.
We turned around and trekked back, sun full on my face, surf high, and not another person in sight. The seal continued to rest on the brush, and there was a small sign posted between it and the main trail – a sign I’m quite sure hadn’t been there earlier – about not disturbing seals, sea lions, or their pups. I expect the woman I had chatted with – a local, she had shared – had called someone and they had come and posted the sign, hoping to prevent anyone from being foolish enough to approach the seal. Why anyone would is beyond me, but I guess they wouldn’t post the signs if it wasn’t an issue.
As we neared the car, the clouds had gathered once more and the snow began to fall again, and I smiled. Barbara Brown Taylor is right; there are altars to crack our shins on and burning bushes flaming high everywhere we walk.
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