I pray for days like this when I make my infrequent visits to the Central Oregon coast.
I grabbed some joe and headed for the Newport waterfront where I took advantage of the folks' forethought to buy season passes to Undersea Gardens (and other wonderfully kitschy attractions). The Gardens' diver show finds crowds ten feet below the water as a diver unfurls a parade of sea creatures through steel-enforced windows to the "deep" – skittish dungeoness crabs, affectionate wolf eels, anemones on portable tiles, various friendly rock fish anxious for a feeding, and big red octopus, not so much the grappler she once was. The attraction is at once a throwback to the simpler days of the roadside tourist trap and a nostalgic glimpse to my own family's daytripper past. I emerged from below, wound my way through the gift shop, and ambled down the street to Mo's for some world-famous chowder and cheesy toast.
Once back on the road I drove south through foreboding sheets of rain which almost blew me back to the house to wait out the storm. I forged on though, and as I approached Cape Perpetua the sky looked more promising. I first landed at Devil's Churn where I bought a latte and, happy at the waning rainstorm, I hiked a bit to an outlook where I watched the wild waves crashing into this ancient volcanic fissure. (However I kept one hand on the cell phone since there was a group of crazies getting way too close to the sneaker waves.)
Then I headed further south to what has consistently been my favorite spot on the coast – Heceta Head. After I've descended from Coast Highway to sea level, I find myself at the crossroads of the Pacific Ocean and the Coast Mountain Range, home to one of the most photographed lighthouses on the west coast. A panoramic view from left to right offers an ant's eye view of a giant arching bridge supporting the highway above, the mouth of a mountain creek clattering multitudes of weather-worn stones, and a perfect landing of a driftwood-strewn beach. In the hazy near-distance, the crashing waves herald twin monoliths – haystack rocks now protected as home to thousands of shore birds – and the steep evergreen rise to the beacon of Heceta Head Lighthouse and the old keepers' house. It's a wonderland if ever I've seen one.
If my language has gotten a bit flowery, and I'm well aware that it has, it's because of the following experience. I'm not sure exactly what it is about this stretch of the coast, but on the occasional visit I feel like I'm witnessing a bit of heaven on earth, and I just get caught up in it. (It's here and, to date, only here that I take incredibly self-indulgent timed photos of myself jumping in the air. What? Why? I can't exactly explain the silliness.) Today I opted to stop midway on my hike to the lighthouse and found myself on an outcropping above a churning section of the beach between the twin haystack rocks and the cliff leading to the lighthouse. As I called up Nickel Creek's "A Lighthouse's Tale" on the iPod, the sea seemed to put on a show choreographed to the tune. The emotional strokes of the song – albeit rather broadly painted – were punctuated by crashing waves and bits of sea foam swirling though the air. And as the song neared its sad end the sun, nearing setting, broke through the clouds and set the sky on golden fire, at my point of view from a place just behind the rocks. I couldn't take enough photos to remotely capture the show I was seeing. And as I headed down the trail to the beach, the iPod next shuffled a song by Shawn Mullins called "Twin Rocks, Oregon". Weird.
Reluctantly back on the road north, I was like a kid called in for dinner at dusk, wanting a bit more playtime. So I stopped off at Cook's Chasm to see more wave crashing and to feel more of the wind gusts. Then it was back on the road north to Yachats as the purply sky darkened.
Now I'm sitting at the Drift Inn. I've ordered some seafood chowder, an oyster shooter, and a Siletz Oatmeal Milk Stout. I try to hit the Drift Inn on my visits partly because of the amazing food, but even more because of the fantastic artistry of singer/songwriter/cover artist Richard Sharpless. He really is great. And he's tuning up. Gotta go.
Take care, all! Peace and love to you and yours in 2008. Go get 'em!
