It was a lovely day by the sea.
I.
We started the day with a cup of coffee perked in our hotel room. It was not just any cup of coffee; it was Oregon Fog, a special blend from Sleepy Monk Coffee Roasters. As they say, “It’s a blend of dark and medium roasted coffee that rolls into your cup with a rich and robust flavor of bittersweet chocolate and vanilla bark then settles with an airy finish of nutty and slightly earthy tones.” (My grandmother never drank coffee like that.)
II.
Then followed a long beach walk, a slow and thoughtful walk. The tide was going out. The wet sand was cold beneath our feet. Sea gulls flew over us, swooping low, calling their high-pitched Mew. For a while, I tracked their flight, watched them land, and then lift off for another flight. As they flew out of sight, I turned my gaze seaward toward that place on the horizon where sea and sky meet and pondered the wonders of life, feeling the oneness of the earth and the sea and the sky. It’s the place where my soul becomes still and my spirit is renewed. It’s the place where my heart beats in rhythm with the universe.
III.
Pigs & Blanket was open. The aroma of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and coffee greeted us before we opened the door. We ate a hearty breakfast — eggs over medium, hashbrowns, a thick slice of ham, biscuits with sausage gravy, and coffee with cream. After our long beach walk, we were more than ready for a robust breakfast.
We walked The Promenade back to our hotel and watched the sleepy town begin to stir. Life was low-key–relaxed and slow. The tourist crowd of summer was gone, and the town was settling into their winter routines. And now that Labor Day had passed, many shops were closed on weekdays.
IV.
Our day stretched out. More unhurried walks on the beach. More shells examined. More sand dollars in our pockets. More pictures taken, and more quiet time just standing side by side drinking in the vastness of the sea with the warmth of the sun on our backs and our long skinny shadows fused together, touching the surf.
Of course, lunch had to be fish and chips from our favorite place, an old bow picker (a type of fishing boat that was built and used on the Columbia River for salmon fishery). The Bow Picker is parked alongside a street, operating much like a food truck. It one of our coastal traditions. Often we chat with others waiting in the line, people on vacation from far away places. Some say it is their first time. Others say they return every year. We think nothing of driving the 20 miles from our inn in Seaside to the Bow Picker in Astoria, of standing in line on the sidewalk for 30 minutes, of taking our paper food boats piled high with fish and chips to our car where as we eat, we enjoy watching cargo ships moored in the Columbia River. That called for a coffee stop at Starbucks before driving back to the inn.
While the sun was still high, we walked the surf again. We sat a spell on a drift log. Nothing had changed since morning, but everything was different. It’s strange how the movement of sun, wind, and sea tides can do that.
V.
Back at Inn of Four Winds, we sat on our second story balcony, soaking up the last warm rays of sun and the salty taste in the air, and gazed beyond the sand dunes covered by waving tall sea grass to the surf where breakers pounded the sand and white foam glistened. Beneath us life stirred leisurely along The Promenade. A mother with a stroller. A couple holding hands. A young man on a bicycle. Three children dancing around their parents.
Supper? Take out. A bowl of clam chowder and a sandwich. We enjoyed it in the quiet of our room as we sat between the picture window and the fireplace with the glowing gas logs.
Evening seemed to creep upon us early with a fiery sun setting low in the southern sky, casting a golden, shining path from the horizon to our feet. The sun sunk out of sight, and while stars shone above, a sea fog slowly rolled in, up out of the ocean, like the breath of a sea monster that had come too close to the shore. The temperature cooled.
Our day by the sea drew to a close.
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