Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (June 30, 2016)
4 // COASTWEEKEND.COM Books, gardening, hiking, hobbies, recreation, personalities, travel & more CLOSE TO HOME large world It’s a small Story and photos by DAVID CAMPICHE L Life unfurls in large and small packages. The same can be held true of landscape. Tug and pull shapes our world. Shapes our lives. That same gravity is explained by the ocean tides, the refl ex between the moon and mother sun. Early in June, the great ocean pulled back, exposing its tiny underworld. The beach community witnesses this daily as the ebb. All those small sea creatures that cling to mountains of submerged igneous rock that shape the Columbia-Pacifi c shoreline, inhaled patiently, and waited. For the next several hours, they would be exposed to the bright light of a summer day. Instead of fi l- tering saltwater, they would inherit the sea air. Friends arrived, sloughing south from the exciting fre- netic city of Seattle. Jeanne was a high school teacher for decades. She fosters an inquisitive nature, well, for nature. Peter remains one of the Northwest’s master glass artists. Along with his fi ne aesthetics, he has a pregnant fascination for science. Their minds are always churning. Fortifi ed with several cups of steaming black coffee, we headed down the Seaview approach and south to the headland at the mouth of the Columbia River, the property now called Beard’s Hollow. The large cove was named after an unfortunate sea captain whose dead body washed ashore here. First People camped among these same rocks, gathered mussels and dug clams during low tides, a landscape not so different than the beach this morning. Only, their legacy stands as a testament to sus- tainability and a centuries-old tradition of “help yourself, but don’t take too much.” There is easy access to the ocean from the parking area at the east end of the park. A paved trail travels westerly for about a quarter of a mile. At the beach, the early daylight was alluring. The sky exploded in shades of aqua and gold that one might associate with the tin- sel-bright sky in an El Greco painting, a bright annealing blue, back-lit as if by some undefi nable spiritual quality. Here, at the ocean edge, sky and igneous rock and a vast salt water ocean coalesced into a marriage that would excite any committed pho- tographer. This is a panthe- ist’s Mecca. Mystical, these white- capped combers, swelling and lifting. Rushing pall-mall The infi nite variety of sea creatures includes black bar- nacles and anemones. Above: The coastline below North Head Lighthouse. Left: Beach patterns shaped by the tide. into shallow water, that magi- cal space where combers roll into an inevitable collision between land and sea. Like the sailing ships of old, these high-capped waves cross the great ocean, riding piggyback above the surge of deeper ocean currents. Here was a kaleidoscope of silver, blue and cresting creamy white against a background of magma, an igneous display of volcanic-shaped stone of pewter hues. Currents swirled sand and light and water into a witch’s brew of eryth forms full of galactic-like surprises. By another defi nition, the ebb and fl ow of tides! And where can you wit- ness a divine canvas of such color and force? Translate this natural phenomenon into mu- sic or jazz and you have Col- trane’s “A Love Supreme.” Of course our planet offers many fi ne vistas, but, as it happens, our backyard remains a con- tender with the best. We walked west. A minus tide is best for exploring our region’s tide pools, this nest of saltwater and rock that sustain the tiny and large world of our ocean beaches. And here were sea anemones, starfi sh, gooseneck barnacles, and sheets of black barnacles, mussels, clams and a cornu- copia of tiny sea life, some glued to sea cliffs, others fl oating and swimming in sensuous bowls of seawater. Carefully, we rubbed our fi ngers over the tendrils of the sea anemones. They OUR PLANET OFFERS MANY FINE VISTAS, BUT, AS IT HAPPENS, OUR BACKYARD REMAINS A CONTENDER WITH THE BEST. closed protectively in on themselves. Sprang back as if circling their wagons against an intrusion of foreigners. Gooseneck barnacles reacted much the same, pulled back like the tide itself, or an inhalation of sea breath that revels in ocean spirit. Sea stars were threatened by a wasting disease two years ago, but according to Jeanne they’re making a comeback. A few of the once vibrant creatures clung to sheer faces of rock like desperate refugees seeking a New World colony. We waded into the tide pools and searched down the wild mussels, an orange fl eshed bivalve of delicious fl avor. We didn’t take any. They simply weren’t abun- dant enough. Here were sea mosses exposed by the low tide. Saltwater glistened as the liquid coursed through tiny alleyways and tendrils, span- gling with sunlight. Small, landlocked perch abounded. There was subtle movement in the tide pools — fl ounders A cove at the south end of the Long Beach Peninsula. and crab buried beneath sandy earth skin shuttered and shuffl ed. Mostly, rich fascination pressed home. This miniature Gulliver’s world seemed ours alone. One man and a dog interrupted our revelry. He quickly disappeared. Other- wise, the world remained a private party. Unlike Cannon Beach or Seaside that so often teem with tourists, the beach be- tween North Head and Lead- better seems mostly deserted, often left to a few locals and an occasional pickup truck or a couple walking their dogs. Other than popular clam tides, this beach is yours and mine for the asking. High tide or low, or the ocean surges in between, this land is your land. Herein lies the gift that is the Long Beach Peninsula or the Clatsop Shores. Here stands a huge landscape and a small handful of eager people sure to enjoy natural beauty so close to home.
