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.