December 10, 2007—Cozy on the Coast

Yes, I do have a routine of sorts here which involves daily walks, eating lots of seafood and storm watching. This has been a cool fall on Oregon’s coast with several major storms and from my big windows I have a wide expanse of sky and trees I can see. I watch gulls soar and float askew as they are blown off course by winds; I watch fog creeping silently in wispy tendrils as it moves in from the bay to cover the RV park, and I watch windblown rain slash the trailer, pound down on the roof and pour down the inclines of the asphalt. Every few days I even watch a gloriously sunny day pass.

There have been two storms of note this fall, one of which did major damage to Oregon’s northern coastal area and much of Washington. Even here at the headlands in Charleston the coast guard clocked wind speed at 114 mph. Fortunately, the park is fairly sheltered being located up the bay and behind 150 foot fir trees so our highest wind was likely not over 60 mph. Although I took a foolish walk out to Cape Arago on that day and was about blown off my feet, those types of winds are the exception. Many storms bring in large rollers and much less wind so make for some exceptional photography.

Ah yes, the walking. I have become quite addicted to one particular jaunt and will go out of my way to get there anytime the weather is at all favorable. Actually, it is a quick five minute trip in the car south on the highway out front to the splendid, real-meal-deal fishing town of Charleston. This small, nearly undiscovered gem sits almost forlorn on a point and surrounds known as Coos Head, guarded over by both the coast guard station and its housing complex, the University of Oregon’s Marine Biology department (complete with big boat), and the real working harbor and docks of the marina.

What’s in Charleston beyond boats you ask? Let’s see. There are about five really good seafood restaurants, some the mom and pop variety. There is one gift/clothing store; an RV park; an oyster farm and numerous fish processing plants. There is a crab shack on the docks where you can buy fresh crab in season and there is the best fish store I’ve ever been in. This place is called Chuck’s Seafood and beyond fish, they also make a variety of goodies like homemade sourdough, salt water taffy and Smoked Salmon Jalapeño Slim Jim’s; various types of canned and smoked fish, including smoked sturgeon, tuna and Chinook, and have the largest variety of condiments I have ever seen gathered in one place. You want fiery mustard or hot sauce? It’s here! They also serve good coffee. Note Marc scarping up the grub at their open house recently.

Back to THE walk. In Charleston, at road’s end, is a dirt lane which stretches across a quay with the open bay on one side and the boat basin and fuel dock on the other. This finger of land is about three fourths of a mile long and I traverse it back and forth several times to get in my exercise allotment. It is a scene I never tire of no matter how many times I trod its length. The minute I step foot outside the car my senses are assaulted with tangy air—a combination of seafood, salt sea mist, and that soft, sensual, sweet smell with a hint of spice. I don’t know which plant it comes from but it is elusively prevalent; so much so that the very air is fragrant with it, but only in wisps. A cacophony also surrounds my ears—it’s either a whisper of waves or a crashing, depending upon the weather and the height of the tide; there are gulls constantly shrieking their ire at each other; there is usually shouts from the dock workers as they unload the boats of their catch; there are sea birds diving and splashing and rigging from the sailboats slapping the masts. It is an ever-changing visual treat as well; boats coming and going; boats pulling up to fuel; boats out on the bay bobbing around pulling up crab pots or with fishing lines out. There are jovial comments tossed about by crabbers as they come back and pull their boat to clean their catch, tossing scraps overboard to the waiting gulls and spotted harbor seals that cruise along like mini-submarines, ever watchful. Always in the background is the sound of the booming sea out the jetty entrance to the open ocean—a dull roar never eclipsed by the whisper of the waves on shore here. It is absolutely stunning and glorious and it is all mine for the taking, nearly in my back yard. I love it here.

Coos Bay has other marvelous walks as well. Right smack in the middle of town mere steps from the super WalMart is a gem of a city park with undulating paved walkways surrounding two fairly good sized lakes. Step inside the forest and forget your cares and the town cloaked only yards behind a majesty of tall trees. You might even catch a fish! Who could believe such a rural and natural place right in the city?

And of course, there is always the ocean. I hear it from my bedroom window early in the morning before the traffic noise; I smell it every time I step outside. It seeps into the soul with its magnificence, its charm, and its mystery. I can daily enjoy, for free, one of Oregon’s lesser known state parks (Sunset Bay SP) where the views and hikes are subliminal. I often picnic there on nice days (or as Marc and I shared one on Thanksgiving Day). It is ceaseless and I am like it, never tiring of its presence.