Upon arriving in Portland, one of my first goals was to take a day trip out to the coast, specifically Cannon Beach and Ecola State Park. This is a destination where, not only do I have extremely fond memories of from a previous visit to the Northwest almost three years prior, but also resides a few familiar landmarks from the cult-classic "Goonies" film, notably everything leading up to the scene at the restaurant. Remnants of the set structure can barely be seen on the north end of Ecola State Park, a small patch of scenic coastal land that climbs the bluffs south of the Clatsop Trails and Tillamook Lighthouse. Being that a close proximity to the Pacific was one of my main reasons for moving to Oregon, I couldn't wait to go. By mid-morning on Sunday, May 15, I was loaded into the car and driving farther west along SR 26, Kino once again finding his familiar spot by my side.
It was a fairly short trip, but extremely satisfying. After an hour's drive through a series of old-growth forests and patches of logging country, I reached Hwy 101, the west coast's famous coastal road that, if followed, would take me all the way down to San Diego and beyond. Only two miles later, however, I took the exit towards Cannon Beach and into Ecola State Park, where I wound along a 2-mile long road that twists and turns through the ancient sea-side forest. On one of the turns over looking Cannon Beach and the picturesque Haystack Rock, came the all-familiar turn where Mikey, Mouth, Chunk and Data stop on their bikes and line up the rocks in the doubloon for the first time.
Just a few hundred yards later, I approached the first parking lot for the park. Here, from pretty much exactly where the old Fratelli restaurant-hideout once stood, a fairly narrow hiking trail wound its way north through the forests and across the bluffs to Indian Beach, which unfortunately, as Kino and I discovered, was muddy beyond comprehension. Knowing that it would take a considerable amount of time out of our day to navigate through the slop, I let Kino run for a few minutes around the grassy areas adjacent to the parking lot before loading him back into the car and driving the extra two miles north through the park and into Indian Beach.
Nothing with Kino has been more emotionally satisfying (save for the moment along Lake Erie when I first realized he could run again safely following a near-crippling leg injury) then when I unhooked his leash and, after a quick moment's hesitation (as if..."could this be real?"), he burst into a all-out sprint towards the rolling ocean waves. Not breaking stride, he turned his gait parellel to the surf and ran the full length of the beach, a good 800 yards from wall to wall. I watched on as I leisurely followed his paw prints in the sand, admiring not only his tastes of freedom and first experience with the Pacific Ocean, but the serenity of the scene as well. A low fog hovered above the coast, cloaking everything in a fine, erie mist. My dog's silent Sunday run perfectly added to the ambiance of the moment.
Here we stayed for a good two hours, exploring the sandy coastline and the small tide pools that bordered the southern edge of the beach. Starfish and mussels populated the large rocks, conveniently exposed by the low tide. Kino, never having experienced wildlife such as this, sniffed the area meticulously, fascinated with each new smell and hints of any marine life he could possibly find. Following a few more runs along the shore, I noticed Kino's endurance begin to wane, as he spent more time laying on the beach and absorbing the air than jogging after me towards the car. Forcing him to rinse off in the small outlet stream that flowed in from between the bluffs, we headed back to the car and left the park, driving south again towards the town of Cannon Beach.
A quaint little coastal town, Cannon Beach is the home of the iconic Oregonian coastal landmark, Haystack Rock; an ominous monolith that provides a home for thousands of puffin birds and a large amount of marine biology at its base. Keeping Kino on the leash (the shallow tidepools surrounding the rock is a protected area, fragile to the interference of humans and dogs alike) we casually strolled up and down the beach, letting the shallow edges of the surf wash across our toes before flowing back again into the mouths of the incoming tide. Haystack Rock loomed over us, casting its long afternoon shadow for as far as we could see. It was peaceful, serene, and I know Kino felt it too. I could see it in the way he walked, with more youth in his stride than he's shown off in years.
Another hour's drive east and we were back at the apartment, just as the sun began to set behind the north west hills overshadowing my apartment. As we relaxed in my yet-to-be-furnished apartment, the salty marine air still crystallized in our minds, it struck me for the first time that this was no longer a vacation spot. The coast was within my reach whenever I wanted it to be. Most likely not within my reach would be century-old treasure maps and hidden caverns leading to pirate booty. ...But I'm not ruling anything out.
No comments:
Post a Comment