Pacified in Pacific City

The ocean is so pacifying, it has a way of lulling the soul into contentment. Water in general, yes, but there is something about the waves, the tides, the connection to the ebb and flow and life. It's primordial. It speaks to something way deep in the ancient, intuitive, instinctive part of our brain. We know deep down where we came from; we have a homing device, maybe.

Growing up land-locked, I'm not that comfortable in the waves, I'll be honest. It takes me a good long while to paddle out past even the cleanest, easiest break. I'm not master of the duck dive, clearly. Deep water mortifies me. I love the idea of surfing, but I really stink at it. My fears get the best of me out there; I don't really even like my feet to dangle for very long, so I end up stretching out on my board and watching the pelicans or the frigate birds or whatever is flying around overhead--which is why I stink at surfing. I also like to practice yoga poses out there. Crow -- yeah, that's hard on a surf board. 

Someday, though, I'll master this mind, and be able to catch waves. I don't think there's any sport so pure, so beautiful in it's simplicity. 

This past weekend, I took a little road trip out to Pacific City. I camped in a tent for the first time in a couple of years; van and camper living sure do spoil a girl. My trusty 15-year old MSR stove leaked fuel like a sieve, so I was doubly thankful that the Stimulus Cafe was a stone's throw from where I camped.

I walked at least 10 miles on the sand with Turbo. I climbed the giant sand dune right near Haystack Rock, on a sunny day that was perfectly warm and not windy--a gift in April in the NW. I laid down on a fresh patch of ripply, velvety sand and just watched the clouds pass overhead.

I watched a bunch of surfers put on very thick wetsuits in the morning. I watched them peel them off, beer in one hand late in the evening, satisfied look on their faces. I admired their dedication to the sport in such harsh conditions. Did I mention I'm also a total wuss when it comes to cold water? Yup. I ate a lot of bread and cheese and salami because that stuff makes a good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I drank some--ok, maybe more--wine alone by a campfire. Cathedral Ridge's '09 Pinot Gris, now that's a pretty good beach wine. 

I wrote and I wrote. I even wrote some fiction (!); man, that Artist's Way is something else. It's working miracles already.

I had cocktails--perhaps the stiffest G&T ever--at the Pelican Brewery. It's right on the beach, so that's just an excellent idea on a sunny afternoon.

It was a lovely weekend. I came away with clarity, pacified and content.