Continued from Page 6
Since 2001, one of those special
places has been closed to human traf-
fic. Dead Man’s Cove, sometimes
called Dead Man’s Hollow, rests just
a few hundred yards west of the U.S.
Coast Guard station at Cape Disap-
pointment. A natural cove, this small
rocky opening delights in busting up
the ocean combers that flood into the
mouth of the Columbia River. Now,
the cove is once again open.
Leave it to a pair of insistent hik-
ers to stumble upon this sheltered
beach in a storm. The landscape is
writhing. The flood tide thrusts 12
foot waves through a narrow, rocky
opening and the physics of motion
throw beachcombers into a frenzy.
Driftwood, pushed by years of high
tides unto this narrow windswept
beach, lingers like graffiti.
Few have the strength or gump-
tion to cart the shapely driftwood
from its resting place. Because of
the narrow opening, the majority of
driftwood remains tangled on the
beach for all to enjoy. We do, though
we find ourselves racing to higher
ground as the surging tide gallops in
rising layers up the soft sands.
The trail into the hollow is diffi-
cult, especially when the rain is thick
and the ground soft and muddy. An
older man now, I slip and slide a few
times. Below, chunks of driftwood
logs have been shaped into wooden
sculptures, gnawed slowly by the
force of water. Logs of cottonwood,
fir and cedar are embedded into the
dark sands of grain. The beauty of
this hollow is a temporary haven,
the sort of sheltered cove where one
might come once or twice a year.
On a winter morning when the rain
descends sideways, it remains rea-
sonable to huddle inside our warm
homes and brew two pots of coffee
or tea. But even on cold, rainy days,
it’s nice to put on an extra layer of
wool clothing and step outside, to
feel the power of a storm, the tide,
the galloping clouds.
I find joy in the footprints left in
the soft sands. Joy in their disap-
pearance as the combers rush around
our ankles. Joy in the movable feast
that is ocean, its volatile winds and
storms. Here, an eternal landscape.
Waves crash by the cove.
David Campiche
THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2022 // 7