It’s been a lovely two months of leisure and travel as we’ve slowly made our way south from our plover job in central Oregon. We traveled north up the Oregon coast with stops in Tillamook and Nehalem Beach State Park, enjoying the windy beaches and small artsy towns. Then we finally left the coast and drove inland to Sauvie Island, just north of Portland.
Sauvie Island is part wildlife refuge and part farmland, no gas stations or laundry, but there is an RV park, right along the Columbia River. We stayed for a week, enjoying the quiet of the off season, and the birds flying through, even though that meant hunting season. On several different days we drove halfway to Portland, then Ubered to the art museum and the Japanese Gardens. Another day we found a decent bagel and lox spread, and enjoyed the exhibit about Leonard Bernstein at the Portland Jewish Museum.
And we got together with my most influential and inspiring writing teacher, Tracy Trefethen, who I haven’t talked to in 20 years, who lives in Portland. She came over with a pizza and we had a lovely visit. Of course, I gave her a copy of Heart Sparks, and it was such a thrill to hear her say she was so proud of me.
From Portland, we headed south on the 5 and spent two nights in a quiet county park near Albany, Oregon, where we met up with a new friend we had met at our plover gig. Together, we visited the Historical Carousel Museum and watched volunteers hand carving random pieces of wood that would later be part of one of the commissioned carousel animals.
And of course, we rode the historic carousel.
In Medford, we went on the tour of the Harry and David packing center, and bought local apples and produce at their farm store. We spent a quick overnight in Sacramento and had delicious Thai food with a friend.
And in Fresno we took a tour of the Underground Gardens, a many roomed grotto carved out of the very dry earth, with all kinds of citrus trees, grape vines and other plants growing up though openings in the ceilings.
We also had a blowout on the highway, about ten miles from camp. Miraculously, there was a Les Schwab Tire right off the exit, and they had our replacement tire size in stock.
At the beginning of November, we pulled into Paradise Park, across the street from the ocean in Central California for a three-week stay. This is the same park where I lived, on and off, after I left Phoenix in 2012. I spent several months here every year, walking on the beach, re-creating my Mac business, focusing on my writing, redefining my relationship with Marika. I came here with Laddy, who died in 2013. And I adopted Cody here in November 2014. I co-taught yoga and writing workshops, and appeared as a local author at the independent bookstore in town before I left with Marika in December, 2015.
Being back at this place of respite and retreat has been wonderful. After a month of travel, it feels so good to simply be here, to unwind, get some things done, and just live a bit. It’s been great to hug my old neighbors and catch up. One even remembered me as “the writer.” We’ve been getting together with friends, eating at some favorite restaurants, reveling in the fresh produce at the farmer’s market, and, of course, walking on the beach. And there are shorebirds, so Marika is also very happy here.
Last week she said that the last time she was here, in 2015, she was very worried about money. She had just quit her job, the floors were being removed in her house, and we thought we were going back to Phoenix to rent out her house and move to California together.
And now, here we are, four years later, living a very different life than either of us imagined. In fact, right now there is a mobile home for rent here in Paradise Park. Four years ago I would have jumped at the opportunity to live here full-time, across the street from the beach. Today, I am surprised that only about 10% of me is even curious about the place, that the other 90% is excited to continue living this life, exploring what else is out there.
The only challenging thing has been Cody’s arthritis. While we were in Oregon, he received regular acupuncture treatments that increased his mobility and stability. Now, after two months without, his back legs are less steady, and walking up and down the big hills at the park aren’t helping. Walking in sand is work, too, so he’s only been to the beach a couple of times, and we drive there so he has more energy to romp.
And last night he had a seizure. It was scary for all of us, but after it was over, we were able to finally calm him down with some Benadryl and CBD oil. And this morning he is his normal, happy self. We’ve got a prescription, in case in happens again, and he’ll have another acupuncture treatment when we’re in Phoenix next week.
Unlike our previous visits to Phoenix, where we’ve stayed a full month or two, this time we’ll only be there for a few days, to check on my dad, take care of a few errands, and enjoy some favorite foods. Then we’ll be heading down to southeastern Arizona for our winter volunteering job at Kartchner Caverns State Park.
We’ll be working in several areas of Visitor Services, educating people about this very special living cave. I may even be a tram driver, one of my dream jobs. There are fifteen other volunteers, and we’ll be camping in one of the two volunteer villages. Rumor has it that it’s very social, with weekly breakfasts and evening camp fires, and I think it will be good for both of us. And instead of doing the same job every day for the four months, we’ll be rotating our duties, sometimes working together, sometimes separately. And that is exciting too.
But today we are still here. I’m sitting outside in the shade of the RV, facing the dry winter hill next door to the park. The red winged blackbirds are poking the dirt for seeds, and a single hawk is circling high in the sky. Cody is lying in the shade on the patio concrete, and Marika is inside, talking with a friend on the phone. I can hear the ocean rolling, out of view.
And I am here. Simply here. Not reminiscing about my times here before, or dreaming of living here in the future.
Just being here. Be-ing. Here.
And saying thank you for it all.
