My last day here in Yachats, and what a day it has been. We had major winds, and wind gusts here through the night (as had been predicted). Lucy was restless during the night, unsure of what all the noises were. Banging screens against window frames, power lines slapping against the roof, vents rattling on the bathroom fan, rain pelting against the windows, arriving in horizontal sheets . . . don’t know why she was restless!
By the time we got up, things had settled a bit but not before leaving some damage. I don’t think I was very surprised to find I had no internet connection. I hadn’t counted on no phone, though, forgetting that the phone here is with Vonage, and routed through the internet provider.
My lack of connectivity certainly got in the way of work, and being able to call for back-up. Ah, but I have a cell phone now, so that should help in the moment. Not so much. Apparently the no-contract, great price phone I bought to have in the car for emergency use only while I drive south can’t call into Canada. I received a #56 error, which meant nothing to me, but certainly was clear enough my call to Canada wasn’t going through. I jumped in the car, in search of a pay phone. I found one, but all it had playing was a busy signal. I saw another, and off I went. I had my Telus calling card of course, but not the oh-so-important pin # - I never use the card so haven’t committed the pin # to memory. So much for that idea.
I recalled my neighbours in the small suite by the house saying they had picked up WiFi at the Green Salmon Café, my favourite haunt for Chai Latte. It’s now 8:20 and no one yet knows in my virtual office that I’m not online. Yikes.
I walk to the Green Salmon, which is noisy with a large table of what look to be like regular seniors having their morning coffee and visit. No one hurries in Yachats, or the Green Salmon. The woman in line in front of me, is paying for her order, and chatting with the fellow behind the counter about a fund-raiser that has gone well. He nods, asks a question, she responds, he counts out her change slowly. My anxiety has risen as I watch the clock move toward 8:30, and I’m wishing these two would wrap it up. As that thought crosses my mind, I wonder if I should settle down a bit, and go with the flow. Five minutes isn’t going to be a make or break at the office.
Finally it’s my turn. All I want to know is if their server is up. Yes, it is. Great, I’ll be right back. Back to the house, pack up the laptop, and back to the café. I feel like I should buy a coffee first – not just sit down and get online, for free. So, I stand in line again, although the woman in front of me is just finishing. I order a coffee, he says he’ll bring it over. Do I need an extension cord for power? No, I won’t be here that long, but thanks. It really is a most delightful coffee shop, with great Chai, great service, and good food. I choose a table, unpack the laptop, and log on. Connectivity.
I email those that need to be emailed, explaining briefly the situation briefly, and then wait for a reply to confirm they have rec’d my email. He brings my coffee, and asks if I need half and half as well, and brings it to the table.
After a half hour of emailing, a quick look at the news, and a second cup of coffee, I pack up the laptop and go back to the house. Since I am not working I begin to pack up things, getting ready for our departure in the morning.
Within a half hour a siren goes off three times – a wailing, insistent siren – at the fire-hall across the street. Now what? Emergency evac? When Rita and I were here in 2005, after we got married, we had only been in our cabin at the Wayside about an hour when there was an evacuation due to a Tsunami warning. Seriously. It was cancelled 2 hours later but it’s not something one forgets.
I watched the fire-hall, and the street. Were people leaving? Were emergency vehicles going out? Nothing. I never did determine what the siren was for, but it did add a bit more to an already heightened morning.
The morning was spent packing boxes, dismantling my ‘office’ I had set up, taking things to the car, tucking in an item here, another there. All the while Lucy watched, concerned about all the activity. By noon the car was packed, other than my last 2 small bags and the soft-sided cooler, all of which will go in tomorrow morning.
Still no internet, so I packed the laptop up again and drove to the local library. I thought I’d see if I could pick up on their WiFi outside. It worked. I checked in with work again, updating and advising that it was unlikely I’d be online again today.
So, a day early start on my holidays, which I hadn’t planned on. A reminder to slow down and go with the flow, and a chance to take Lucy for a walk on the beach in the sunshine. The sun has now come out. . . Who knows where my internet connection is. I have tried rebooting the modem but to no avail.
Looks like Lucy and I are ready to go in the morning. Four weeks here has been fulfilling, has gone quickly, and has provided almost all of what I wanted. Now I’m ready for new vistas and some warmth.
In the night:
It is in my faith and believing in the bigger picture that makes the day-to-day picture manageable. Visioning the bigger picture allows me to handle the difficult smaller pictures in my life.
Lucy and I have wrapped up four weeks on the Coast with a grand walk on the beach. We parked at Tillicum Beach campground, and walked the beach all the way south to The Wayside Lodge. The sun came out, the air was fabulous, the tide going out, the soft pastel bands in the skyline perfectly picturesque, the gulls white on tan sands, Lucy running as fast as she could to scoop the tennis ball up and into her wee mouth, racing back to me. I hadn’t expected this last chance at the beach since I have work to do, and the weather wasn’t supposed to be so great. Well my lack of connectivity took care of all work, and the clouds lifted and parted a smidge – enough to allow sunshine to warm my face and lighten the view. I am blessed to be here, to experience the beauty and space, to enjoy Rita’s presence, and God’s. I am blessed with love and care and softness. I am blessed with time to reflect and put down the baggage that no longer needs to travel with me. I am blessed that God and the ocean are able to hold all that I throw, dump, hurl, drip, drop, fling, shoot, offer. . . all with grace and a softness.
