silver sands

Just got back from the coast. Started out at Rockaway, then travelled, I think south, to many other places. I get so confused because first of all, I think Tillamook is north of Seaside, and it isn't. I think Seaside is kind of by Newport, and it isn't. You could give me a map and then I'd have two and I'd still think this. So, its always an adventure driving with me and I am happy to drive if you'll just wake up for all the turns. I did none of the driving this time, so no unintended detours.

We had no itinerary, so it was relaxing. K wanted to fish some and crab some, and we did, but got skunked again. We keep just hitting it wrong. Wrong for us, good for the crab, and came home empty handed but for the oysters he bought near Toledo near the back of Yaquina Bay.

First night we stayed at the Silver Sands motel in Rockaway. We decided not to spend a butt load of money, so first tried "the Getaway" which looked like a two story version of Bolder City (see previous posts) and we figured it would be cheeeep, but it was not cheap at all, and we moved on to a nicer and cheaper place up the road. The beach was good and Sid caught his frisbee.

We got up the next morning and after taking a poll of locals, decided on the Pancake house rather than the Cow Bell for breakfast. With Josie the roller-derby queen for a waitress, how could we go wrong? It was fine. Eggs are eggs, afterall.

Next we hit the road, like I said, heading generally south, to crab in Garibaldi, look at places new to me, and some to him: Netarts, Oceanside, Pacific City, buncha other ones; stopping at yard sales on the way. The only thing I bought was a blue and white seersucker blazer to cut up for my yoyo quilt. I did have a very long conversation with M'wa Pig from Garibaldi about her son's suicide. When someone in a shop begins a conversation, with a patron, about a funeral, you know they need to talk. So, now I know that, among other things, she is 71, weatlhy, and dresses up like a pig for Garibaldi days and Halloween in a bodysuit that has six teats and pink tights. I saw the photographs. You'll just have to use your imagination.

We ended up driving all the way to Waldport, one of our favorites for crabbing, but no dice, and stayed last night in the Alsea Motel. which did not have a view, but it also did not have bedbugs or scabies and that is the best I can say.

We waited for low tide to put in the crab rings, and walked out on the pier, baited them with nasty shit and tossed 'em off the dock. They just sat there, corks suspended in maybe two feet of water. It was eerie. Low tide. Most definitely. Now, I don't know how deep it usually is, and I don't know if they usually dredge that bay -- probably -- but geez. It was shallow. The BAY was shallow. Now, I've lived on the coast, I know the habits of water. I understand low and minus-tides. But this was fricking real estate. When the tide came in, it still wasn't in. It was as though the tide went out and kept on going. Like somebody pulled the plug. I'm sure there's and explanation, and I'm sure its scary.

So we got up this morning and came on home. Looking off the Alsea Bay bridge, again at low tide, it was frightening to see the expanse of green mud. We took back roads in from Newport.

Head back in the sand.