Further South on the Oregon Coast

21 January 2014

In the Port Orford Public Library

For this post pictures first then a letter to my friend Jeana.  All the photos are Jason's unless noted otherwise.  We are thinking and talking a lot about how to do this and I have been uncertain whether the writing is about a personal journey or a travellog.   Jase worries about too many photos, so walk away while it all downloads.  I worry about the personal nature of the writing, but have found my best voice in writing to friends. 

Please help us with feedback.  What do you want to know about?  Do you want more or less photos? Do you want more or less writing? Feedback helps so thanks in advance.

 Beverly Beach State Park

These last two from Shore Acres State Park

Bullards Beach State Park

 Noisy inhabitants of Simpson's Reef.  There were dozens of these guys migrating and feeding on the reef.  Also lots of smaller harbor seals.  We keep looking for gray whales who migrate in December and January.

 More Shore Acres State Park

 We're getting skinnier and stronger, walking miles every day. 

 The Baggendorf Beach

 A jetty on Baggendorf Beach

 Simpson Beach

Sunset Bay

 Afternoons are deliciously warm, but mornings and nights cool (high 30s to low 40s--no ice and no snow!).  Days short.  We haven't met many folks but did find this man walking the bluff with his cats.  Never seen anything quite like it.  He had at least six, maybe eight.  This picnic table on a high bluff over the ocean is maybe 130 steps from where we are camped now at Cape Blanco State Park.

 On the walk to the lighthouse at Cape Blanco.

I leave the big landscape photos to Jason, but I love mud and this photograph is mine.  The mud on this part reminded me of Eastern Montana gumbo.

This last is my photo, tho Jase did the finishing work on it.

21 January 2014

Dear Jeana,

Do you remember Rev. Nat Patrick’s sermon on The Turning Point?  Hexagram 24 if recall is correct.  Am thinking of it listening intently to John Mayall’s 1969 album, The Turning Point.

It’s the sound track for my letter to you with its great horn solos.  Some of it is plain ole get up and dance music too.  This trip is a turning point for us, a transformation.

I feel you in Oregon.  We’ve been camping our way down the coast for three weeks now. And have no inclination to leave Oregon.  Jason is hoping against hope for Oregon state parks in California.

Oregon coming together in my head and for me you are its manifestation.  Surely you have been to Simpson’s Reef and the botanical Japanese garden at Shore Acres State Park. We’re staying 4-6 days each place, doing a once over on all the trails and scratching the surface of the beautiful landscapes.  It must take years to see a coastline.  My prairie eyes aren’t turned to it as I imagine yours might be.

Kudos to those who made and support these parks.  Traveling in Seven with these parks makes our travel a luxurious experience of the outside.  And in the meantime we have a great sound system, sewer, water, electricity and our own propane.  A furnace.  An on demand hot water heater.

Contemplating the beach this morning I imagined you playing there as a child.  I would have loved to know you when you were 10 or 11.  That magical time before girls start the worry over being women. I imagine the exuberance and dedication you would apply to a beach.  You would fill up the whole landscape and now that I have been here I can see this landscape in you. 

Given the backdrop my partnership with Jason; landscape, walking, climate and writing are the focus for my journey. Jason’s photographs and a few of my own are visual representations of the invitations to, and memories of place.  Landscape and climate come more intimately dancing together on my skin, in my lungs, through my nostrils and the feel of my muscles climbing a trail.  The ocean is unrelentingly crashing into the tympanic membrane.

Yesterday started at a trail marker walking hard in morning cool and sun, and found a road that allowed a good fast (for me) pace.   Not knowing where we were going.  A delicious experience because one can’t really be lost. We’re on groomed trail networks with hedge-lined grass surfaces and tunnels through the gorse, underbrush and tree density not experienced at home.  They are magical tunnels.  We deviate from the civilized trails too, following footpaths and walking long stretches of beach. 

Like at home January days here are too dang short.  In working live the walking part of a January day is not available.  That combined with ice kept me from walking much in January Montana. Here midday is warm and delicious in the middle/high 60s, and also comfortable waking at 44 degrees in warm sun. My legs are stronger by the day.  Bouncing down a trail to a beach and popping back up without a breather.  I’m 65 years old and rather than feeling retired, I feel activated.

There is always so much more to tell.  Just know for now I am thinking of you, of John, of Luke and Roz.  Want to get to the walking part of the day with you.  I am so sorry to miss your January gathering and so much appreciate the invitation.   Blessings to all the friends who will be there.

Love, love,

N.