MONDAY, AUGUST 11

MONDAY, AUGUST 11: 

      Another cool morning when we woke up, but it warms up quickly.

      Drove into Lake Crescent, only a few miles down the road.  Put the kayaks in and paddled around for a couple of hours. Wasn’t a very pretty day – pretty overcast, so the lake wasn’t the deep blue I remember from several years ago, and the mountains didn’t  show up in sharp relief.  Also, we were right near the highway, so had the noise of cars and semi’s, as well as noise and exhaust from motor boats.  But still nice to get back on the water.

                                                            

 

Then we did an impromptu hike right by the lake to Marymere Falls.  1.5 mile round trip through a nice sampling of rain forest. 

Some pretty steep stairs up towards the viewing platform.    But a nice pay-off; the falls were really, really lovely.  Not massive nor dramatic, but so pretty to watch the water cascade down against the rock in small “stairsteps.”  Very tranquil.

                                                                         

     Then home to take a short nap and eat leftovers before we headed out for the coast, a little over an hour away.  What a difference  those 50+ miles make!  When we left home, we had the truck A/C turned on; when we stepped out at the parking lot on the beach, we put on our jackets!  Besides being cool, it was misty and foggy – really, a perfect atmosphere for our evening stroll along this wild, untamed coastline.  The surf was pounding as we made our way up the beach.  There were wonderfully picturesque sea stacks all along the shoreline, made even more evocative tonight shrouded in fog. 

 

 

We also passed lots of huge pieces of wood, in fantastic shapes, hurled up by massive waves during storms.  Hard to imagine such power.

 

 

The walk just got better and better.  Now and then waning sun would pierce through the fog and aim its golden pink rays directly over a sea stack.  Those were breathtakingly beautiful moments.  Moments suspended in time.  

 

                                                              

After about 1 ½ miles, we reached the landmark “Hole in the Wall,” named for obvious reasons.

 

And the other side:

 

As we carefully threaded our way over and amongst the rocks here to get closer to the surf, we were treated to amazing tide pools filled with colorful creatures.

 

 

It was really hard to pull ourselves away from the scene here, especially as the sun began to dramatically set.  It gave us the most gorgeous show, transitioning from delicate pinks and lavenders

 

 

to deepening oranges, salmons, roses, and magentas,

climaxing in the most exquisite palette surrounding the golden sun which looked as if it were spreading itself out, as if to pronounce a glorious benediction on all watching such heartbreaking, ethereal beauty.  And all this accompanied by the constant pounding of the surf.  Truly a foretaste of Heaven itself.

                                                    

 

 

       We reluctantly picked our way over the slippery rocks back to shore and safety, away from the incoming tide, and walked back in increasing darkness. Saw a handful of campfires by campsites.  I remarked to Bill how “cool” (in more than one sense of the word!)  it would be to camp out here, going to sleep hearing the surf and seeing the moon in the night sky.  Nothing else.  I reminded him that we have a tent and sleeping bags in the RV.  He was having none of it.    

        The night and the fog almost totally obscured all of the seastacks now . . . we recognized the parking lot only by a dim light or two.

     What precious memories we have stored of tonight’s encounter with the Creator Artist’s hand!   We have those memories looking back.  And looking forward . . . the sights and sounds and scents of this untamed seascape started us talking about how neat it would be to have a front row seat as winter storms came in on the coast . . . to be able to watch the tremendous waves come crashing down from a cozy place high up.  This might be a trip in our future . . .