It’s that time again, when we are leaving one place and heading to another. We’ve been here in the safe, quiet, perfect temperatures of the central Oregon Coast since mid May, before the official summer season began. Besides losing Cody, it’s been a bit of a dream come true time for me.
There’s no sales tax, I get fresh, wild, smoked salmon at the fish market across the street, we buy bread and produce at the weekly farmers market, and there’s a dispensary on every corner. And there are three quiet walking beaches, all within five miles of home.
I’m riding my bike every day around the marina, sometimes singing as I pedal, sometimes talking out loud as I prepare for the week’s Heart Sparks coaching circle. Yes, three women said YES to the circle, and it’s been expansive and inspiring for all of us.
I’ve sold all of the remaining Make Your Own Prayer Flags, and the last of the first edition copies of my Heart Sparks book. And I’ve sold even more decks of Heart Sparks cards though my Etsy shop. I’m writing a bit most days, and started sharing my stories onmedium, and I’ve even taken out my crayons a few times.
I fixed a flat tire on my bike, twice, all by myself, and Bill helped me adjust my seat and handlebars for the now perfect fit. My skin and bones love this moist climate, and my whole being thrives being surrounded by a big sky and so much water.
Marika and I are communicating in new, healthy ways, and singing and laughing more. We go on an outing at least once a week, and we have finally found a TV show that we both enjoy. (Last Tango In Halifax, on Netflix.)
And our dear friend Judy came to visit for two weeks. We took her for very windy jetty walks, and to our secret beach, and we explored the gardens at Shore Acres on one of the few warm and sunny days. We checked out all of the thrift stores in town, and she found the vintage folding TV trays that I’ve been looking for, so that guests can sit on the sofa and eat instead of us all being crammed around the dinette table.
On the mornings when I had my Heart Sparks circle, Marika and Judy picked up donuts and coffee and went to the beach. And on the day Marika wanted some home time, Judy and I went on a hike at the Slough, found a few geo-caches, and stopped inside a local distillery, but did not have a taste.
We drove to Bandon twice, once to check out Washed Ashore and the Marine Yard Sale, where neighbor Bill was selling a variety of boat related items, and again, to visit the local artist coop galleries. We ate pizza and ice cream, and drove out to the Coquille Lighthouse where we watched two young women choose the perfect piece of driftwood for a macramé project. And all three of us downloaded the SEEK app, so we could identify all of the plants and trees and anemones we found.
I told Judy the story of when we first came to Oregon in 1998 with the other RV for our first four week adventure, and we took a tour of the Coquille lighthouse. We both loved the idea of someday being that retired couple, giving tours. When we shared that with the couple, they said the next couple had to cancel, so there was an opening for the month if we wanted it. We actually considered it, but agreed we’d rather spend our month traveling, but that it was definitely something we wanted to do in the future.
And we did. It was our very first volunteering job in October 2016.
And on that same trip in 1998, we came to Charleston, where we are now, for a birding festival. We stayed at the RV Park near the marina and I rode my bike all around town while Marika went on birding field trips. I remember thinking, “Wow, you can stay here for a whole month for only $350.00. I want to do that someday.” And we did, for the entire month of September, 2016, on our way south to that lighthouse job.
We ate fresh crab and local smoked salmon. I bought my kayak and paddled in several nearby lakes. We enjoyed the variety of ethnic foods in nearby Coos Bay. And I loved the town even more.
Which is why I was so happy to return here again this summer, and even happier to find this RV park tucked behind the shops on the main drag, looking out over the ever changing tides of the South Slough.
We’ve made friends with our neighbor Bill, and Ruthie, the woman who cuts our hair at Beauty and the Beach. We know the back roads, the cheapest gas, and the best vistas for take out food eating. And we both agree that the best fish and chips is at The Portside Cafe, with huge portions of delicious panko-breaded fish, a tropical Cole slaw, crunchy-coated fries, and only $11.00, or $14.00 if you add a cup of chowder.
It’s been the perfect safe haven for us during the pandemic. It’s off the beaten track, so we had fewer summer tourists than other places on the coast. And now, with the fires burning all over Oregon and the west coast, we are blessed to be surrounded by water, and to have the fog that acts as a filter for the smoke.
I know I will be sad to leave. But I remind myself that we will be back on the coast in eight months, either here, or at our interpretive volunteer gig further south on the ocean.
For now, the practice is to continue to embrace being here. AND to keep an eye forward on the best plan for leaving.
We were scheduled to leave next Thursday, driving north to Newport for four days, then going inland for a few days in Eugene before heading south to the Klamath Falls area for two weeks of some migratory birding. But with all of the fires and smoke between here and there, we have decided to wait and see.
We’re still going up to Newport next week to visit with our next year’s supervisor who rehabs wild parrots. But, if the air in the rest of the state is like it is now, we’ll head back here to our safe Snug Harbor, pay for the month, and watch and wait and leave when it’s clear. We’re looking at alternate routes and timetables to get us back to Phoenix by November 1st, where we’ll stay for the month, to vote, visit my Dad, and take care of medical things. Then we’ll be camp hosting at Dead Horse State Park in Cottonwood, two hours north of Phoenix, for the winter.
Meanwhile, the summer tourists here are gone, the commercial crabbing season is on hold while the crabs molt, and “free range” albacore is now being sold off the commercial boats at the marina. Weekdays, there are only a few boat trailers in the marina parking lot, but salmon season is coming soon, and weekends are still busy.
This weekend is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. It’s a time for forgiveness and compassion, for ourselves and others. It’s a time of endings and beginnings, of moving forward with clarity and sweetness, for ourselves, for our beloveds, for our communities.
There are so many people struggling and suffering, especially these last months, that sometimes I think I should feel guilty for living this amazing life. But then I remind myself that my freedom and love amplifies and raises the vibrations around me, and extends the love bigger out into the world. Every time I say good morning to a person on my ride. Every time I smile behind my mask at the supermarket. Every time I say thank you for all that is.
