The print. (Oregon City, Oregon) 1977-1989, May 27, 1987, Image 4

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    Monterey Bay”
by Stephani Veff
The ocean is that vast expanse
of water seemingly meeting the
sky on the horizon, forging the
two blues into one. For nearly all
my life I lived near the ocean, an
experience embedded in my
memory forever. I need only to
close my eyes and it all comes
back to me; the sights, sounds,
and smells, but especially how I
feel when I'm at the ocean.
The bay is beautiful to me in
all types of weather and each
season brings new feelings,
almost like the tide brings sea
treasures to the beach. Early
morning walks to the school bus
stop were magnificent, to say the
least The sun would just be peek­
ing above the Salinas Mountains,
raining down on the bay creating
a reflection so bright one could
go blind looking directly at it for
too long. The early morning tide
rolled in over the jagged rocks
creating huge waves that turned
into a briskly moving white foam
which glided over the sparkling
sands on the beach.
Some days would be very win­
dy and the bay would become
choppy and covered with white
caps that made the bay look like a
carelessly frosted cake. The wind
would bring with it the salty smell
of the ocean, and occasionally the
smell of fish from the numerous
fishing boats bobbing up and
down in the middle of the bay,
like toys in a child's bathtub. The
smell of salt was usually so domi­
nant that one could almost taste it
without actually drinking from
the bay, and if one were standing
on the rocks at the edge of the
beach, the spray from the waves
could be licked from his lips.
Even though it is easy to hear
the ocean during the day, its
sounds become more ominous at
night when one is lying in bed.
There is no other feeling quite
like that of being lulled to sleep
by the pounding surf and moan­
ing of the foghorn mingling with
the quieter moans of the buoys
lying just a short mile from the
shore. Occcasionally the ocean
noises were frightening, most
usually when storms caused the
waves to rise precariously close to
the top of the wall seperating the
street from the raging ocean. At
these times one would wish he
were unable to hear the crashing
waves beginning to wear away the
wall and the boats calling to one
another for help.
Nighttime also brings and
entirely different appearance
to the bay, but whether it is a
clear night or a foggy one, the
view is always spectacular. On
a foggy night, a dark, dank mist
hovers close to the surface of
the bay, just out of the bay's r
reach, tempting it to rise up *
and become enclosed entirely fJ
in the shadowy sheet as it
floats slowly above, propelled
by a light breeze. Clear nights
allow one to view the entire
bay, framed by the sparkling
lights of the city. The full,
yellow moon paints a path
across the bay, tempting one
to step out onto the glassy sur­
face, and follow it on it's trek
across the midnight-blue sky.
The bay, by itself, is
beautiful, but the creatures
that live in the bay and the
landscape at the edge of the
bay, add to its beauty. The san­
dy shores stretch for miles,
sparkling like gold and silver
glitter, while the rocks at the
beaches edges jut out over the
water forming deep, dark
caverns where sea animals
seek shelter from the harsh
waves. Paths near the shore's
edge are lined with brilliant
lavender-colored flowers,
thousands of them framing the
bay with a brightly colored
The sands on the beaches,
warmed by the sun, invite one
to take a nap after a long swim
in the cold, tumultuous bay.
Although the sand on the
ocean floor is the same as that
on the beach, this sand is as
cold as the ocean itself and is
constantly burying one's feet
deeper and deeper as the
undertow tries to pull him out
to sea, amongst the flagella­
like seaweed.
The ocean's affect upon
most who view her seems to be
one of awe. It's affect on me
has been one of awe, but also
one of understanding. The bay
has grown to be my friend,
reaching out a caring hand in
the form of a wave, and carry­
ing away my troubles. I feel
restless when it is raging in the
midst of a storm, and when the
bay is calm and its surface is as
smooth as glass, I become
calm just looking at it.
Whether or not I ever decide
to live by the bay again, I know
that, at the very least, I will be
sure to visit occasionally. The
memories of the bay are
always just a thought away.
They will never be taken away
from me and can only be add­
ed to in the future. The fascina­
tion I feel for the ocean is held :
in poems I have written, but
they will never e able to equal
the greatness of the real thing.
"The Werewolf and The Statue”
When the full moon rose above the snow laden mountains,
The Wolfman ventured forth from his lair,
Dark, lithe, a shadow with eyes like cold ice,
He gazed upward at the stars with a malevolent grin.
Like a fleeting grey wraith he moved through the forest,
Downward into the valley where the ruined temple of Helios lay,
Here to pause amongst the ancient stone pillars, white like bone,
reading the runes and of the secret of fire.
Hidden in the gloom a marble figure watched the intruder,
With a green hate from the depths of hell it stared,
A stone statue of Erebos, animated from its marble silence,
An instrument of malice and death bent on destruction.
Cain was about to unlock the secret when he heard muffled footsteps
Turning he came face to face with that stony visage,
Hands with incredible force closed on his throat,
The green fire seemed to burn brighter under the stony brows.
Clawing desperately at his foe Cain fought in vain,
For though he tore chips of marble from the statue's arms,
The grip continued to tighten upon his throat,
And as the world began to dim, he feared all was lost
With his last bit of strength, the werewolf raked the statue's face
Clawing at the burning green eyes,
The marble form screamed, throwing his opponent to the ground,
Then staggering back, it crashed through a garden wall.
Snarling in fury Cain leaped into the gap and the courtyard beyond,
Smashing headlong into the stone shape trying to rise,
Cain was stunned, reeled away and fell to his hands and knees,
As the stone form once again turned towards it's prey.
The wolfman snatched up a bronze arm,
Fallen from the statue of Helios, which towered over him,
Stood shakily to his feet and waited,
Erebos grabbed at his hated foe,
And Cain swung the arm of the god with all his might,
He connected, there was thunder, heat and flames,
The wolf man was tossed twenty feet as the form of Erebos exploded.
Cain awoke on his back, his left arm in terrible pain,
His gaze fell upon a smouldering heap of rubble,
The acrid smoke drifting lazily skyward,
Helios's statue standing whole and unscathed once again.
Limping, dazed and bloody Cain left the courtyard,
Passing by the sun god's image with its smouldering sacrifice,
He saw Erebos's head, its eyes empty and dark,
As he began asending the mountain to his den,
The dawn was coming, and he knew its secret
Bryon I. Sander
int, 2 degree observer