Bright Wings that Never Tire. July 5. Day 14. Part 2.

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 support of my shoes and that removing shoes and socks, and especially putting them back on and trying to get rid of all the sand, was very arduous and slow. I was willing to go to great lengths to avoid taking off my shoes. 

Agate Beach was a little disappointing. Although famously a place to hunt agates, it did not reveal any of its hidden treasures to me. In fact it was almost boring except that I enjoyed watching the birds so much. Photo 11 is a collage of those wonderful tiny birds (whose name I don't know though I suspect some of you do) who scurry in a wavelike formation towards and away from the actual ocean waves, then suddenly rise up into the air, all in a group, swing around, fly away. I love how their movements are coordinated and wonder how they communicate. 

 

Birds seemed to be emerging as a theme for the day and I was struck by the poignant beauty of this dead seabird (photo 12). 

 

Shortly after encountering his body, and still feeling that sad reminder of the transience of life and beauty, I received a phone call from Chris. She said she had turned off I-5 and should reach the Cafe Mundo in Newport by 11am. I told her (since I had barely a mile to go) that I would be there before her. 

I was checking my iPhone gps (wondering how soon I needed to be alert for the trail up from the beach into Newport) when I discovered that our granddaughter Amanda had responded to my blog. Amanda had found the poem that the "Vast, Immortal Sea" mystery quote at the memorial in Depoe Bay was taken from! It struck me as eerie and profound that the poem was titled "To a Seabird Dying" and addressed to Ac bird with white body and dark beak. 

White as the crest that bore it to the land,

And swart of pinion as the storm is black,
And very pitiful beneath the hand.
Now death has touched it, though its eye is brave,
The dark beak lifted as to strike the foe,
While in its glance the wildness of the wave
Ebbs as the head droops low.

As I read the poem and Ananda's post about the poet  ( please see the comments at http://rivcoastwalk2017.blogspot.com/2017/07/july-4-day-13-part-1.html for the full text of the poem and more on the poet Ben Hur Lampman), I became lost in revery. I was especially moved by the last stanza of the poem, and the last line, which I borrowed to title this blog):

It is not true. Life is not slain by death.
The vast, immortal sea shall have her own,
Shall garner to her this expiring breath,
Shall reap where she has sown.
And with her you shall be, in her delight;
Her winds your flight, her wildness your desire;
Her whiteness yours as these your plumes are white,
Bright wings that never tire!

I looked up to find I was now aimlessly wondering through the dunes and had no idea where the ocean was. When I glimpsed the ocean at last. I walked eagerly toward it (blissfully oblivious to the  fact that the beach was now on my left rather than my right).  

I was stunned as I walked to discover another dead bird seemingly identical to the one I had previously photographed. This did not alert me to the fact that I was backtracking. Instead I began to fantasize writing a letter to the Audubon Society to express concern about some possible special vulnerability of this species of bird. As I approached the next headland it seemed much closer than my gps now suggested Newport was (somehow I failed to notice that Newport was getting further away from me as I walked rather than closer. ) I even photographed the dead seabird again (photo 13) so I could show the Audubon Society both birds I found dead on the short walk from Yaquina Head to downtown Newport.  The death of two seabirds along with the poem was setting up a haunting theme for my walk. I was too lost in reverie, big thoughts about death and the ocean, to notice something as trivial and mundane as the direction in which I happened to be walking. 

 

Nor did I notice as I approached a precarious log crossing of a stream (and watched a young man give up and remove his shoes and wade across) that it was the very same crossing I had made in the other direction only an hour and a half earlier.  I even photographed the crossing as I looked back (this time from the opposite direction, of course) proud all over again that I was able to negotiate it, but unaware of the fact that I was crossing it for the second time (photo 14). 

 

Then I walked up the green path from the beach, without recognizing it as the exact same path I had walked down earlier in the morning. At the top, though, everything looked strangely familiar. The parking lot, the signs, the shops. How could downtown Newport and Yaquina Head be so strangely alike? I became disoriented. Finally I checked my gps and realized where I was: - back where I had started, now almost 3 miles north of Newport, and due to meet Chris there in 15 minutes. 

I texted Chris my mistake and prepared to roadwalk and hitchhike so I would get there as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Chris called to say she has set her iPhone gps for the wrong address (SW Coast Rd instead of NW Coast Rd) and Madeline and Bob were messaging me offering to meet somewhere else that might be more convenient for Chris and me. I was like an amateur juggler dropping all her balls and tripping over them.  

I pinned my magic hot pink bandanna (on the side saying "Hiker to Town") to the back of my pack and stuck out my thumb as I walked, but this time it didn't work. No angel came along to offer me a ride. When I was within a mile of our meeting place, Chris called to tell me the cafe we had selected, Cafe Mundo, was closed.

Finally we did meet at the (closed) Cafe Mundo, and walked a block or 2 north to the (open) Cafe Stephanie - where Chris (who had started at 6am without coffee or breakfast) was at last able to order a delicious omelet. We realized we were one block from Nye Beach and so texted Bob and Madeline to meet us there. 

We were waiting outside Cafe Stephanie looking for the Flanagan family and I texted Madeline to ask what their car looked like. A moment later a white car pulled up, the window rolled down, and Madeleine said "it's a white car with five people in it."  

We pointed them in the direction in which, as  we had learned from our waiter, there was public parking available. With uncanny good luck (and thanks I am sure to the fog and cold breeze) there was a parking space left - only one - and Bob nabbed it. 

Then we went down to the beach where we played, talked, breathed that great ocean air and relished the coincidence that our paths had crossed on the Oregon coast. (They live in San Mateo, CA, and planned this family vacation spontaneously and recently). These photos communicate, I hope, a little of the liveliness of our visit and express  how blessed I feel both by the presence of the ocean and by the presence of family I love. 

Photo 15 shows brother Bob and Chris. My sister judy said it was nice to see them "solving the problems of the world," which made me think how secure I would feel if they were the president. 

 

Photo 16 is a collage of big brother Matthew and younger brother Gabriel tossing a football on the beach. 

 

Photo 17 is a collage of photos of Rebecca and Madeline and Bob playing with the ocean, and one with Bob and me in the background. 

 

I am writing this blog on Friday as we fly to Nashville for a family wedding (our grandson Andy). Last night we stayed overnight with daughter Sandy and partner Betsy in Seattle and now Sandy, Allie (our granddaughter) and Peter are all on the same plane with us headed for Nashville. 

Wednesday night (July 5) we stayed with our longtime friends Shelly and Chuck. I was shocked when I started to write this blog that I had taken no photos of Shelly and Chuck, or of the beautiful meal - probably the freshest, most perfectly cooked, most generous portion of halibut I've ever had, with mango and avocado and purple onion garnish - with grilled broccolini and a delicious salad and a homemade lemon-almond bundy cake with berries for dessert. I think that I felt so warmly welcomed and nurtured that I just settled into their home - got all my laundry done, showered, allowed myself to be utterly pampered and fed - and became a passive recipient of all their care. I was like a baby bird in the nest of her trail angels - no responsibility but to keep my hungry little mouth open and wait trustingly for it to be filled. The next morning I did take a photo of the frittata, melon and berry breakfast (photo 18) prepared with the same exquisite nurturance and artistry as dinner the night before.

 

Chuck and Shelly, who grew up and met while still very young in LA, and lived their whole life there, have embarked on an entirely new life in Corvallis, Oregon. It was great to see their new home featured in Willamette Valley Living - and to laugh together at the idea that this made them real Oregonians. Meanwhile Chuck has a great time on the beautiful golf course that we could see from their living room window  - carrying his own golf club bag, so it becomes a genuinely strenuous outdoor activity. Both of them relish time with their nearby three year old grandson, and enjoy supporting his passion for the aquarium and the zoo by activities like making a map/model of the zoo at home. Shelley has the dining room table totally covered with photos that span at least 40 years of family history. She plans to scan them and make a CD so that their children and grandchildren have access to the images and stories out of which their own lives have arisen. I am struck visiting them how many adventures there are in life - the trail i walk is not so much special in that regard, as it is a metaphor that helps me notice the adventure inherent in all of life. 

As I write this, I am very aware of how lucky I am -and I want to add one more photo. As I have mentioned before, for years I have been searching for a four-leaf clover wherever I have seen clover growing.  I often sit down and spend a half hour searching through the clover. I have made up a story for myself that if I do find a four-leaf clover it will be a sign of luck for my niece Josie. From my point of view, Josie has lost her way in life, just like I did when I got turned around in the dunes and walked in the wrong direction. I was able to turn around again, and to meet up with the people I love - I was lucky. 

Several days ago I was walking beside some clover, not even searching, and my eyes chanced upon - not one, but two - four-leaf clovers, both on the same stalk. 

Photo 18 represents my  prayer (please join me with your hopes/prayers) that these clovers are signs of good luck in Josie's life. Please join me in praying for Josie, and for all of us imperfect humans (individuals and nations) who so easily lose our way.

 

Thank you so much for walking with me. 

I/we will start again in Newport, on Nye Beach, Tuesday July 11. See you on the beach.