A Boy Playing a Wood Flute. June 25.

Dear Trail Friends,

What a wonderful magical day. I am starting to wonder if I would enjoy my hikes more if I could make every other day a rest day, a day of wondering and Discovery, without all the forward momentum and heroic effort of the thru-hike state of consciousness. 

The irony is that I do not have even one more day of rest planned for the whole trip. It wasnt exactly deliberate. Not were these two rest days at the start.  It just happened. 

Let me tell you about today. I woke up later than is usual for me on the trail - around 6:30am. I had slept very poorly, was awake most of the night, a fact I attribute to the huge brownie sundae I consumed after my dinner at the Pelican Brewery. I enjoyed "tsunami stout" beer with dinner (with a slice of lemon) - a delicious dinner of fish tacos. Then I could not resist the brownies cooked with stout with cherries soaked in stout, plus ice cream, whipped cream and both hot fudge and caramel sauce. And despite my sleepless night, I have no regrets. You can see the thief of sleep in photo 1.

 

Now I ask you - would you not give up a night of sleep for such a lover?

(You have to remember I am an incurable sugar-aholic and practice strict sugar sobriety most of the time. Only on the trail does my metabolism tolerate sugar because of, I assume, the high level of activity. Only on the trail can I enjoy the sensual bliss of sugar without paying an unacceptable price in mood swings, cravings, and obsession. Maybe you think I am obsessing now but this kind of obsessing is fun. The other is misery. )

When I did wake up I decided to walk the beach. I expected to be the only person on the beach before 7am on a Sunday morning. Not so. As I later learned, the below -2 low tide at about 8am this morning was very unusual and people were out early to see the tide pools, including a whole group of volunteer tidepool guides. Regrettably, I only glanced at the tidepools, thought to myself and even said to one of the guides that the anemones were not as big and exciting as my childhood anemones (and we were allowed to touch them, now we are expected to keep our feet on dry sand and our hands to ourselves.). 

Later, at the camp, I met Judy, a 75 year old woman from Portland who came here just to see the critters in tidepools and showed me photos of the most amazing seaslugs (small critters about an inch long) that I failed totally to notice. Here's Judy in photo 2. When she sends me copies of her sea slug photos I will post them. One of them, as she put it, looked like a Fourth of July celebration. It really did. 

 

I think this is my theme for today. When you (I mean me of course) are looking too hard for something special (or remembering too hard how things used to be) you can miss the new kind of special that is happening now. 

Most of the day really I was steeped in that kind of openness to serendipity and wonder that is such a gift, such grace. 

I walked along the beach knowing it was too early to get breakfast. I watched the fog roll in. Amazing that it was 94 yesterday and today was in the 50s all day. Photo 3 is a collage of my early morning Beach walk. 

 

I figure I need to make the beach collage at least as big as the brownie sundae or you will think I've totally lost it. 

So I walked the beach and then looped through town and did a walk around the lagoon and a water treatment area. Photos 4 and 5 are from that beautiful little town walk. 

 

 

Afterwards it wasn't quite 9 am and the creperie I wanted to try for breakfast would not yet be open. So I sat in the sun looking for a four leaf clover - dedicating my search to my niece, wishing that I would find a four leaf clover and it would mean luck for her, her dreams coming true, health and happiness in her life. I said to myself that life is magical, that finding a four leaf clover is a rare event and a sign from the universe that rare events really can happen. As I thought about that and searched unsuccessfully for a four leaf clover, a boy walked by playing a wood flute. He was playing beautifully and when I said so he thanked me bashfully, looking away and simply went on walking and playing. Clearly not seeking an audience (or donations). Just playing. It occurred to me that I was looking for one kind of rare event (the 4 leaf clover) and another kind of rare event walked by. This time I noticed. And I took it as the hopeful sign that it was. 

As I was waiting for the creperie to open and noticed the crowd gathering, I said to a woman that I hoped such a busy place wouldn't mind giving a table to one person. "Oh they don't have tables" she said. It was all "to go." So she pointed me toward a cafe she loved where I could sit down at a table. I waited quite happily for 30 minutes at this also very crowded little cafe, then enjoyed my Mexican omelet with lots of melted cheese and good salsa and pan fried potatoes and fruit  salad and great coffee at my tiny table beside a window, feeling the most delicious peace just sitting there. Eating and being. 

After breakfast I walked back and had a very sweet nap in my new tent (with which I grow more in love hourly) then went out for an afternoon hike in a nearby forest preserve. Photo 6 is from the afternoon hike. 

 

The high point of my afternoon hike (along with the old growth cedars) was rolling up my pants, taking off my shoes and socks and walking through a creek to reach the trail continuation on the other side. 

It's hard to say what made the day so special. The sweet melody the boy was playing on his wood flute when I was looking for one rare event and another one happened. My camper neighbor Judy telling me about the beautiful sea slugs (that I had totally missed) and finding her passionate sense of wonder about them as rare and beautiful as the sea slugs themselves. The mother and adult daughter at the family owned cafe where I ate breakfast. The mother and adult daughter at this beautiful family owned campground started by the grandfather so people who couldn't afford a hotel would have a place to stay near the beach. 

I am shivering (last night I had to get naked in my tent I was so hot and tonight I am shivering in my jacket. What a wonderful world) - so it's time to go back to my tent and tuck myself in. (I'm sitting on a bench outside the restrooms charging my iPhone). 

I will see you tomorrow on the beach. Thank you for resting with me today. Tomorrow, we walk!