sunset at ecola state park
tonight, for the first time in at least a month, i went up to ecola to watch the sunset. it's been a weird weekend; i'm on 'count-down' mode for when i'm leaving. i try not to be because it makes me panic a little to think 'only a month left' or 'only four weekends left' or 'this may be one of your last sundays to drive down to tillamook' - one of my favorite sunday activities. i visit the cheese factory and the petting farm with the bird that sounds like a dinosaur and stop off to walk around on the docks in garibaldi if it's not raining and check out the rocks at bay view and depending on my mood and the weather will drive to cape meares.
it was a good day to see the sunset (i could say that there are no bad days to see the sunset, but tonight the clouds and sun made the last embers of daylight really interesting) - there were big clouds and the sun broke through in crepuscular rays that shone on tillamook rock lighthouse. the sun made a pinkish glow to the east on the clouds that hovered over Arch Cape and on the waves breaking near shore (it was close to high tide). the rest of the sea was a dark blue, teal as it got closer around crescent beach. sometimes the rocks look kind of hazy over the distance from ecola but tonight they were sharp and clear. i walked down to the view point and started thinking about the things i'd done at ecola: the sunday soon after i moved here when i thought i'd walk up to the park even though i was exhausted from walking around cannon beach all day, because i had no idea it was still more than a mile up a steep, winding road to the park; walking down to crescent beach at 7 a.m. in the fall; hiking tillamook head in the pouring rain to get lewis and clark pictures; discovering the world war ii bunkers near hiker's camp; the crows that stole the cheese from our barbeque; the (tiny) chipmunk that stole my (huge) apple at lunch when i hadn't yet taken two bites out of it; the countless times i thought 'this is worth it'because i knew i could go there and see those things on my lunch hour; donna's and mine barbeque with the bag you set on fire; watching surfers at indian beach; looking for the whale vertebrae (which was so heavy it broke the bathroom scale) on the day after election day 2004; visiting the park the first time mom and donna came to visit - walking to the sea lion rocks in the wind and the rain; oystercatcher calls on the beach during an early morning low tide; covering the wedding where the 'aisle' was the pathway to the sea lion rocks; walking down the eroded area near the sea lion rocks countless times; watching elk that congregate on the cliffs and near the entrance; the 'rollercoaster' hill right before the entrance; driving up there on a sunny afternoon on lunch break listening to stories and music on the radio while the sun shone through the trees and not believing how lucky i was to see this and wondering how to measure up to having witnessed this; watching hang glider overhead on the day we decided to go to mcminnville (you know the song) - where donna thought somebody had told her about a 'really big bird' that lived there when it was actually the spruce goose; visiting with uncle ward and not being able to see 10 feet because of fog.
for all the bad things, there are so many good things. and i really want to remember the good things and what i've learned from being here. friday night, i went to the scandinavian midsummer festival, which included a 'hex burning' to symbolically say good bye to problems and welcome summer, and the scandinavian court talking about 'what their heritage meant to them.' saturday was sandcastle day - i feel a little dishonest because i had so much fun and i felt like it really wasn't my event, like i was just using, stealing the excitement of the other people who were there. But it was fun. it was interesting to see the beach crowded, but not have it be crowded - have it feel like all the people who were there were there together, as part of one collective gathering. Kids throwing balls of sand at each other and doing bellyflops into the pits dug to help the builders get water. A group of teenage boys in the braces and not-quite-comfortable-making-eye-contact stage standing and singing about fast food to the tune of 'carol of the bells' in front of the gigantic sandcastle they built. people in beach-accessible wheelchairs and elderly couples sitting on the sand, occasionally feeding their dog a part of their hot dog.
writing is such hard work. i felt so inspired at sandcastle day, so many thoughts running through my head, but i can't seem to do it justice now. i was remembering, at ecola, how i used to narrate things in my head, automatically, writing prose in my mind almost all the time. i don't do that anymore, or i hardly ever do. i wonder if that's because i'm busy now, i have things to do and my job actually requires that i write so i have less free brain power to devote to that. i miss that, though. lately i've been feeling kind of down about my writing and pessimistic about my chances of being the kind of writer that i fantastize about being: like jonathan safran foer or john updike - having that ability to really write something meaningful and thoughtful and unique that i'm proud of and doing it in a well-written and complete way. things are changing: with japan and donna to africa and sarah having a baby and marcie getting married. i look at my writing, my experiences sometimes and i can't believe that i'm 26 years old. i feel like i should have a lot more to show for nearly 26 1/2 years than what i do. but that kind of thinking gets one nowhere. strong. smart. independent woman.
'we don't believe in war, and we don't believe in luck.'
it was a good day to see the sunset (i could say that there are no bad days to see the sunset, but tonight the clouds and sun made the last embers of daylight really interesting) - there were big clouds and the sun broke through in crepuscular rays that shone on tillamook rock lighthouse. the sun made a pinkish glow to the east on the clouds that hovered over Arch Cape and on the waves breaking near shore (it was close to high tide). the rest of the sea was a dark blue, teal as it got closer around crescent beach. sometimes the rocks look kind of hazy over the distance from ecola but tonight they were sharp and clear. i walked down to the view point and started thinking about the things i'd done at ecola: the sunday soon after i moved here when i thought i'd walk up to the park even though i was exhausted from walking around cannon beach all day, because i had no idea it was still more than a mile up a steep, winding road to the park; walking down to crescent beach at 7 a.m. in the fall; hiking tillamook head in the pouring rain to get lewis and clark pictures; discovering the world war ii bunkers near hiker's camp; the crows that stole the cheese from our barbeque; the (tiny) chipmunk that stole my (huge) apple at lunch when i hadn't yet taken two bites out of it; the countless times i thought 'this is worth it'because i knew i could go there and see those things on my lunch hour; donna's and mine barbeque with the bag you set on fire; watching surfers at indian beach; looking for the whale vertebrae (which was so heavy it broke the bathroom scale) on the day after election day 2004; visiting the park the first time mom and donna came to visit - walking to the sea lion rocks in the wind and the rain; oystercatcher calls on the beach during an early morning low tide; covering the wedding where the 'aisle' was the pathway to the sea lion rocks; walking down the eroded area near the sea lion rocks countless times; watching elk that congregate on the cliffs and near the entrance; the 'rollercoaster' hill right before the entrance; driving up there on a sunny afternoon on lunch break listening to stories and music on the radio while the sun shone through the trees and not believing how lucky i was to see this and wondering how to measure up to having witnessed this; watching hang glider overhead on the day we decided to go to mcminnville (you know the song) - where donna thought somebody had told her about a 'really big bird' that lived there when it was actually the spruce goose; visiting with uncle ward and not being able to see 10 feet because of fog.
for all the bad things, there are so many good things. and i really want to remember the good things and what i've learned from being here. friday night, i went to the scandinavian midsummer festival, which included a 'hex burning' to symbolically say good bye to problems and welcome summer, and the scandinavian court talking about 'what their heritage meant to them.' saturday was sandcastle day - i feel a little dishonest because i had so much fun and i felt like it really wasn't my event, like i was just using, stealing the excitement of the other people who were there. But it was fun. it was interesting to see the beach crowded, but not have it be crowded - have it feel like all the people who were there were there together, as part of one collective gathering. Kids throwing balls of sand at each other and doing bellyflops into the pits dug to help the builders get water. A group of teenage boys in the braces and not-quite-comfortable-making-eye-contact stage standing and singing about fast food to the tune of 'carol of the bells' in front of the gigantic sandcastle they built. people in beach-accessible wheelchairs and elderly couples sitting on the sand, occasionally feeding their dog a part of their hot dog.
writing is such hard work. i felt so inspired at sandcastle day, so many thoughts running through my head, but i can't seem to do it justice now. i was remembering, at ecola, how i used to narrate things in my head, automatically, writing prose in my mind almost all the time. i don't do that anymore, or i hardly ever do. i wonder if that's because i'm busy now, i have things to do and my job actually requires that i write so i have less free brain power to devote to that. i miss that, though. lately i've been feeling kind of down about my writing and pessimistic about my chances of being the kind of writer that i fantastize about being: like jonathan safran foer or john updike - having that ability to really write something meaningful and thoughtful and unique that i'm proud of and doing it in a well-written and complete way. things are changing: with japan and donna to africa and sarah having a baby and marcie getting married. i look at my writing, my experiences sometimes and i can't believe that i'm 26 years old. i feel like i should have a lot more to show for nearly 26 1/2 years than what i do. but that kind of thinking gets one nowhere. strong. smart. independent woman.
'we don't believe in war, and we don't believe in luck.'
posted by kathy at 1:51 PM
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