River Walks the Oregon Coast 2017

Continued from: Leave Them Wanting More. July 13-15. Day 17 and after-words. Part 3.  I began the Amanda Trail - a little bit steep but well maintained, no difficult roots, rocks, or muddy places - feeling just fine. I had improved the dressing on my feet at the second rest stop, and also spent time on my inverted pose with feet up against a tree trunk. At first my feet were entirely painfree. I made it to the bears statue and the Amanda statue (in part 1 of this blog) but realized my pace was slow (even if the feet did not hurt they must be slowing me down) and that I would not make it to Neptune Beach by 4:30, when Quaker friend and trail angel Sakre had planned to meet me. (Originally I had hoped to meet at 2 but that turned out not to work for her and my hike turned out much longer than I had thought).  Sakre fortunately suggested that I let her know  somewhere I could get to by 4:30 and that she meet me there . I thought I could get to the top of the Amanda Trail by ...

Continued from: Leave Them Wanting More. July 13-15. Day 17 and after-words. Part 2.  I rested and ate at the picnic table gazing out to sea and feeling pleased with my hike so far, particularly my daring little clamber (not to mention my discovery of a possible route) up from the beach to my rest spot. Photo 11 shows my picnic table.    Trail 804 turned out to be a very lovely trail along the bluff overlooking rocky beaches. Photo 12 is a collage in honor of that 804 trail, and in honor of all the people who must have contributed hard work to design and build it, as well as the many people (including me!) who find joy in walking it.    I put the wedding arch in the center because as soon as I saw it, I began wondering what it would be like to be married here, beside these rocks where the water keeps flinging itself against them and shooting up into the air. I stood under the arch and mentally repeated my vow to Chris: I, River Malcolm, choose you, Christine Dow...

Continued from: Leave Them Wanting More. July 13-15. Day 17 and after-words. Part 1 As I made my way toward the cape, happily dodging tide ponds and streams, or finding ways to skip or leap across them without getting my feet wet, I came to a stream I could not cross (photo 6). I looked back and forward but saw no potential place to cross without wet feet.    Seeing another walker, I said "Excuse me, do you know if there is anywhere I can cross this stream without getting my feet wet?" He told me there was a bridge about a quarter mile back, if I didn't mind climbing over some rocks. So back I went. If you look closely at photo 7 you will see a man in an orange jacket sitting in a chair (left side of photo) and above and to the right, my bridge.      I walked up to the man in the orange jacket and said "Excuse me, may I ask you for some advice?" He said sure. "Do you know any way I can get up to the bridge without trespassing or breaking my neck?" He p...

Dear Trail Friends, I have been slow to write this blog posting. I remember that when I studied bereavement and grief counseling there were certain events - like the "unveiling" of the tombstone - that made the loss more real and often intensified the pain of loss. Writing this blog feels that way to me. It is a public and verbal acknowledgment that my hike is over, at least for now. It also involves revisiting the last day of the hike and reliving in a very conscious way all that has been lost.  My friend Peter McC reminds me "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Wise guidance, though I think the trail of tears may sometimes be the only path I can find that leads me back to the trail of gratitude and smiles.  I winced when I used the phrase "trail of tears" and reproached myself for conflating my relatively small loss with the loss of lives and home and culture that Native American people experienced on the historical forced di...

Continued from: A Bridge Over Troubled Water. July 12. Day 16. Part 1.  When I got back to the beach I discovered the hiking family in front of me again. It was fun to watch them out there in front of me as they paused to discuss when to leave the beach. I assumed they were using the same guidebook I was (the only one for the Oregon Coast). I was impressed when I learned they weren't using a guidebook. They were navigating entirely by maps. (I was also impressed to learn they had forded Sand Lake outlet, the one I decided to walk around the day I met George. It had been chest-deep and they carried their backpacks on their heads. Oh, for their youth and balance!) Nevertheless when they chose an earlier exit from the beach, I preferred to follow my guidebook. I complain about it a lot but I also really appreciate it.  My second roadwalk included a bridge across the Alsea River. The collage in Photo 6 shows the bridge as I crossed (lower) - I was so pleased there was both a bike ...

Dear Trail Friends We've had such fun, you and I, on these beautiful trails. And every time my luck has pulled me through, so much so that I was, I suspect, beginning to take it for granted, like the color of my eyes and the rhythm of my steps.  What is it the Greeks said about hubris? S/he who walks too tall, the gods will strike down.  So, alright. I seek meaning in experiences that might otherwise break my spirit. Last night i discovered I was missing my wallet. I searched my tent, my backpack, the ground under my tent. I went back to the registration booth to see if I left it there or someone had found it. I retraced every step I took, first at night in the dark with my headlamp, then again and again (and again) in the morning. I checked the hospitality center to see if anyone had turned it in there. It was gone. My money. My credit and debit cards. My drivers license. My insurance cards. The two four leaf clovers I found.  Last night I thought it might abort my hike....

Dear Trail Friends, I am back on the trail, walked a very short day to South Beach Campground - just a few miles south of where Chris and I spent the night in Newport.  The return from the wedding in Nashville was stressful - our Sunday 3pm flight was cancelled due to mechanical problems. Alaska Airlines was wonderful - they flew us all out on an extra flight at 8am Monday morning, gave us meal vouchers for dinner and breakfast, put us up at a nice hotel, and were very kind and warm in dealing with us.  And still it was stressful and exhausting.  We landed Monday around 11am and got back to Sandy's house in Seattle and loaded our car and headed for Newport by 12:30. We arrived around 6pm but were really too exhausted to truly appreciate and enjoy the special Herman Melville room (at the Sylvia Beach hotel) with ocean view, the great dinner served family style (we just didn't have the energy to truly enjoy interacting with the other guests, though they were quite wonderful...

Continued from: Bright Wings That Never Tire, Part 1 On the short roadwalk between the RV resort and access to Agate Beach (south of  Yaquita Head) I passed a yard with three fiercely protective barking dogs. I knew I was provoking them by pausing there, but who could resist staying a moment to make a photo of the darling little fierce-guard-dogs-in-training just beyond them (photo 8)?    I found the lovely green path back down to the beach (photo 9) and crossed the very precarious logs across one of the freshwater streams spilling into the ocean.    Photo 10 was proudly taken looking back after I succeeded in crossing the stream. The logs had tipped, rocked, and rolled - and I had lost my balance once, and flailed, and almost fallen. I was quite pleased with myself for recovering (also for having providently placed both my iPhone and battery recharger in safer places in case I should fall).    I had discovered I was more comfortable walking with the s...

Dear Trail Friends, Despite the sound (but alas not the sight) of fireworks just south of us in nearby Newport (but with Yaquina Head in between, blocking visibility),  I slept deeply. I woke, as I usually do on the trail, around 4am and was packed up and walking by 5:15am. I found my way easily through the Beverly Beach campground  to the beach, and began my walk.  The plan at this point was to meet Chris at the Cafe Mundo in Newport (only about a 7 1/2 mile walk) and then eat a little lunch and drive to Agate Beach to meet the Flanagan family (my brother Bob's family). I would have made it a leisurely stroll and take long rest breaks and still arrive in plenty of time. Or so I thought.  I walked the 3.7 miles of Beverly Beach with ease and pleasure. Highlights included the usual interplay of dawn light and fog and ocean breeze. All this is usual, but there is also  something fresh and new every day. Photos 1 and 2 are a tribute to that fresh morning light and ...