Photography, Travel
A Walk on the Beach
Bandon, Oregon
To spend three days on Bandon Beach, Oregon is to see several different seasons in one month. Within minutes, the sky will fill with mist, completely obscuring the glint of azure blue. And then, a little pocket of sunlight on the horizon will suddenly open back up and clouds will billow forth from that navel of brightness.
As you amble along the beach, you’ll find yourself surrounded, both on and offshore, by “seastacks,” sedimentary columns of stone eroded by time, water and wind. The main rock (the triangular one in the photo above) is named for Ewauna, a Native American girl who refused to turn her eyes towards the water demon who captured her. She is said to be forever facing up towards the moon.
Those seastacks are continually eroding and the resultant little tunnels and caves with tidepools beckon you into their shadowy realms. On my recent trip to Face Rock Beach, my friend, Rebecca, and I found ourselves peering into this little world of sea anemones.
I live in Southern California. Although you do hear about people here and there who have stepped on a jellyfish, we pretty much go barefoot on the beach all the time. But Oregon beaches are a completely different story. This is definitely a “sandals-required” part of the world.
Those jellyfish seem to ride in with the tide and you need to be quite careful where you step. The very presence of these gelatinous beings reminds me of the ephemerality of every moment. For, as beautiful as they are, every one of these beach creatures is already dying.
We never know when or where our last moments on earth will be. I wonder what the jellyfish feel or see when they are left behind by their watery world to gasp their last breath? It really does force one to stop and pay attention, not just for the stingers underfoot, but for those precious moments in life that are all too easy to let slip away.
When we first arrived, the air was heavy and it seemed as though we would slip into nightfall with the softness of gray felt and the silky smoothness of rivers sliding into the ocean.
The seagulls seemed to all be lined up for their meal of mussels and clams, which pop out of the sandy waters as the waves recede.
The jellyfish are not the only things which wash up on the shore. These strands of seaweed, uprooted by the force of the water, also twine across the beach.
As we turned around to return to the house which we had rented for a few days, we were amazed to see the sky opening back up from one of those little pockets of sunshine. And then, lo and behold, a party of horse-back riders appeared behind us.
It seemed like the closer they came, the more sunlight filled the sky, as if they were lassoing it in behind them.
But then, as quickly as the light had gathered, it began to soften into an indigo twilight.
I’m not certain which mood I prefer — the sultry gray or the blooming brightness. They’re both beautiful. And, looking out at the profile of Ewauna, I realize that enjoying both the darkness and the light is like looking at a woman and embracing her in all of her totality.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem, or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).
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Photos and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.
