Cold Mirage published, my new website live, beach break at Yachats on the Oregon Coast
At dawn the ocean is a roar hidden in fog. Last night the incoming tide boomed and crashed, dark waves against black basalt boulders beneath our window. Our host’s tsunami evacuation map usefully reminds me, “If you feel an earthquake, don’t stop to pack, quickly walk (don’t drive) to higher ground.” I read it twice, just in case. Coming from the high desert, four hours inland over the Coast Range and the Cascades, I find the Pacific’s unrelenting power both reassuring––still here when everything else seems changed ––and terrifying to my lizard brain. Sun burns off the fog. Queen Anne’s Lace, Angelica, fragrant pink wild roses and sweet peas line the trail to a beach where sand warms my bare feet.
In this town of 800 or so, cafes and shops beg for workers, hand-lettered help wanted signs taped to windows and doors. Some places are closed half the week. Some people mask, some don’t. Sometimes I forget I have my mask in my pocket. I’m on vacation! Does that confer immunity? Everything’s uncertain except for the ocean––Tide in, tide out. Over salmon and chips on our balcony we watch distant orcas spout, bob up to spy, and disappear flashing dorsal fins. As usual, we’ve forgotten binoculars. The ocean has already washed away our footprints. Fog rolls in again.
Wearing fleece we hike and explore tide pools, then strip off layers a few days later driving into a hundred and three degrees at home. The surf sound’s hypnotic effect stays with me as I navigate my tech confusion posting this new website blog.