There is an easier way to get to the campground, but we took the insanely winding, twisting, very narrow with big drop offs road instead. Of course.
|If you want to hike the trail overnight, you have to have a bear canister.|
There is also hunting allowed. Deer and elk, in season. I didn't see anything about bears.
|Trash bin from the back, almost like the rocks (I just realized I wish I'd taken the front photo,|
but I kept avoiding them, forgetting I'd want to tell about them. Duh).
|There were two big dunes between us and the beach (and the wood we'd gather for fires). |
They blocked the cold winds wonderfully.
|Huge trees that (I think) wash down the river to where it meets the sea and then scattered all over the shore were amazing. And driftwood pieces that I want to bring home. |
Hundreds and hundreds of them. I need a container.
|We got there late in the afternoon, but not too late.|
|I could only imagine the dancing that went on around this May Pole|
|A labyrinth. That no one bothers, except to walk it.|
|Sunset the first night. The second night I just watched. My hands were too cold to do more.|
|I got up early for a walkabout. |
A close up of the labyrinth
|There were wonderful little structures scattered around.|
|I think every fairy hut should have a seaweed boa for decor|
|Three Bags Full ~ in the dunes|
|Of all the driftwood I wanted to keep, this was probably the most wanted one. |
Let your imagination ramble as to possible uses, beyond just looking at it the rest of your life.
The main reason we headed here is because I've wanted to meet John McAbery, the wood sculptor I mentioned before. By the time we got here, which was a last minute decision and carrying out with a fair amount of haste, I still hadn't made contact with him or his girlfriend Gretchen, who takes care of all the work of the business end that any successful (as in known) artist needs to have happen and any incredibly fortunate artist doesn't have to do him or herself. You can read about all of that and a lot more here.
We went to the little town of Petrolia to ask two things. One, where WAS that lighthouse anyway? And two, did they know where John's cabin was? The answer for the lighthouse? Go to the beach and turn right and walk three miles. The answer to the cabin? We don't give out information about where people live, here's a phone number (which I called and got an answering machine; fair enough). I respect that lack of information, even though it was a little frustrating. I respect it a lot, knowing I feel the same. And that is when I put finding him and his cabin in the hands of the universe...we'd either get there or not. In the meantime, there were three miles to hike to the lighthouse. Three miles, how hard could that be on a beautiful, sunny day?
|And there!!! There it was, the lighthouse!|
|And we found John's cabin and John too. I know that shy is not a word anyone I know associates with me, but - rarely am I ever impressed by anyone enough to want to meet them in the first place. Elijah and Julia waited as I started walking to the cabin. And stopped. 'Does it look like anyone is even home?' I asked, ready to just leave, ready to back out, ready to ignore that the universe had actually gotten us to this beyond imagination place. Julia said 'Well, there is a man looking out the window...' And there was. And he invited me in. And I gave him some hot sauce. And then we talked awhile about his work, and his place. And then Elijah and Julia came in and we talked some more. I wanted to ask 1000 questions. I wanted to take a million pictures. But I just couldn't ask...like a 13 year old groupie meeting her rock and roll star, I was tongue tied and smiling until it hurt. |
John's cabin is perfect. A bed. A wall with a sink and some shelves. A table where he does all his work with hand tools and not very many of them at that. A stove for heat and water heating and cooking that he made out of an old Army trailer. He built the cabin and has lived there for 35 years. It all just feels so very right...the cabin on the wild beach, the art he creates, the gladness that comes from him. He was friendly and interesting and exactly like I imagined but of course better, because it was all very real.
There is someone a lot more professional than me who did do it (writing/photos) right and you can see and learn more about John and Gretchen, the cabin and their art here.