It is a beautiful day. On such days walking will do, but riding my tiny bike is better. Before I indulge myself at the mighty Pacific Ocean, I must take a health stop. The exercise location appears to be a family affair. There is a certain vibrancy there now that the previous ownership didn’t have. One can’t ignore the broad range of health mavens taking their measure as we try to skirt the pandemic.
Leaving refreshed, I went by Skip’s house on the way to my ocean meditation. I met him in a coastal ravine several years ago. He was paying it forward by clearing a wasted parking lot vegetation site next to streams heading to the ocean. After a short conversation, it was clear Skip is in it for the public good. One person calls it ‘payette forward.’ This ravine property is entrepreneurial for RV parking displacing the former trickling stream. More about Skip later.
As I wended the bicycle down Benham Lane to the sparkling ocean rising up in anger for something lost where these waterways meet. There are many locations around Oregon where those who can try to ‘sunlight’ waterways. The intersection at Boat Basin Road appears to be doing the opposite if one takes the time to look. There are water prisons and pipes everywhere.
On the way, I was again struck how almost all people here wave with you in acknowledgement, wave in courtesy to peds and wave simply to let you go while they wait. I have never seen this courtesy in this abundance anywhere else.
Ah, the ocean is in stormy beauty with some families retreating as the high tide cycle does its thing. I pulled out my meditation notebook and quickly succumbed to watching three separate families build tepees out of the resplendent driftwood with instant success.
The turbulent ocean provided perfect surfing moments, yet the fierceness of the waves would require prudence. Those splashing waves are mesmerizing. Ocean birds feast at the crest to pick up unsuspecting fish with incredible success. There is engaging poetry there.
The Harbor at Brookings is a mix of serious commercial fishing vessels along with the usual recreational boats that beckon were it not for that turbulent ocean barrier waiting just offshore. The blue sky and sun force my eyes closed as the families work on their projects.
There is no coast I know of where the rivers bring down driftwood; a carpet of wood and stones of all sorts and of all beauty imaginable.
My present duty is either to return to the gawking media ringing in one good thing and one bad thing or to allow my eyes and senses to drift off into calm resolve.
A short bicycle ride-return on an alternate route brings me to the Chetco Indian Memorial. Once again, I feast on local treasures. There is nothing and nobody like Archie McVay. This time it is his relative. Archie and Skip are Legacy people. Their forebears came here on the Oregon Trail. They are incredibly friendly and have a history that needs more reporting….. times 10x —- many tongues.
It is commonly known the role these Legacy folks have allowed in transforming dairy farms to be replaced by jettys taming the ocean swells just now forcing itself on a rip-tide and a rip tide, and a riptide. This is near that treasure Skip was working on when we met several years ago. Brookings Legacy folks are a special people.