This Sunday lunchtime we found ourselves near Lincoln City. We ate tortillas, carrots and roasted chickpeas in a muddy low-tide area near some interesting rocks. But we stopped for a bathroom break at Boiler Bay, which as it turns out has even bigger rocks and some of the most amazing waves I've seen in a long time.
It was sunny at the coast and the water was gold and green and active. We stood for a long time at the southern end of the little safety fence, feeling small against that sheer power. We sang our Poseidon song.
I was also made aware, once again, that we seem to live on a different plane of time than other people. In the time it took for us to feel we had seen enough on one side of the rocks, about eight different groups of people filed past us, took pictures on their robots, and then moved on.
I hope people get out of things what they're looking for.
I hope it really is what they are looking for -- this check-it-off-the-list hustle and bustle to get from point A to point B. For Anthony and I it's never about point A or B in particular; the journey itself excites us. We want to see as much as we can. Because there are so many interesting things to see this close to home.
We were aiming to turn towards Eugene in Florence, but we didn't make it to Florence. We haven't made it as far as Florence in almost a year, because we're never really going to Florence. We're just making the circuit back to Eugene much more interesting than sticking with the I-5 corridor. In the summer time we drive in different directions -- out east along the historic highway, further along through the orchards, north to Astoria or across the river to see the Columbia River gorge from Washington's perspective. Into the mountains of Eastern Oregon. We will bring the tent and stove and camp sometimes, at times only staying a quick night then pack up and out early the next morning.
This time of year, because of Anthony's schooling schedule, most of our journeys are strictly north-to-south, but that still leaves plenty of wiggle room. We get so much out of these little detours. Sunday was a meandering triumph. We got to watch the ocean for a long time. I got to see a black oystercatcher -- a bird I'd never seen before. We got to drive through sunny fog and trees and saw delightfully stumpy-legged shaggy bulls. We have never been checklist people. And I think that's made all the difference.