Nerding Out on Nature:

Because Earth is cooler than screens


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Oregon’s North Coast: More Than Just Forts and Shipwrecks

“Mommy, was Pomp home-schooled?”

My eight-year old daughter (aka “The Spud”) and I stood in front of a statue of Sacagawea, famed Shoshone interpreter in Lewis’ and Clark’s Corps of Discovery of the early 1800s. The Native American woman gave birth to her son, Jean Baptiste (nicknamed Pompey, or Pomp), two months before the Corps began their journey from Missouri to Oregon. She simply strapped the baby on her back and took off on the expedition which would take two-plus years.

The statue of Sacagawea and Pomp outside Lewis and Clark National Historic Park

The statue of Sacagawea and Pomp outside Lewis and Clark National Historic Park

One of the original multitasking moms, she saw to Pomp’s needs, saved valuable expedition documents from floating downstream, made peace between Corps members and Native Americans on the journey, and taught her growing son and 31 men about the flora and fauna around them.

Replica of Fort Clatsop

Replica of Fort Clatsop

Jonathan and I have lately decided to home-school The Spud for a while. What better place to start than the Northern Oregon coast, rich with history? We popped in a CD by The Meriwethers, a charming Ashland-based band inspired by the Corps, and drove to Lewis and Clark National Historic Park to wander through an excellent little museum and a replica of Fort Clatsop.

“It that all?” The Spud asked after peering into a handful of rooms holding crudely-constructed beds and tables.

“That’s the point,” I told her. The Corps hunkered down in a similar fort among the Sitka spruce for three months, from December 1805 to March 1806, squashed together making maps and sewing moccasins for the return journey east while rain poured down.

This bright June day inspired us to hike the Netul Landing Trail beside the fort. With our intrepid terrier, we set out along a path picking salmon berries and pointing out bald eagles and great-blue herons. A family of adventurers could easily spend a day at Lewis and Clark National Historic Park, watching films in the museum, studying the exhibits, participating in the Junior Ranger program, hiking, meditating on a forest stump surrounded by the ethereal warble of the Swainson’s thrush.

The Salt Works, in Seaside.

The Salt Works, in Seaside.

Later, fortified by burgers and fish and chips and a puppy patty (a $1 dog burger) at Astoria’s kid- and terrier-friendly Wet Dog Cafe, we drove to Seaside to see The Salt Works. This tiny historical replica depicts the system by which members of the Corps boiled seawater to make much-needed salt for meat preservation and . . . well, you know, to improve the taste of half-spoiled elk.

While Seaside has plenty of attractions–boutiques and boardwalks and a glittering carousel–we opted to visit Fort Stevens State Park instead. We parked at Coffenbury Lake and checked out the anglers and swimmers, then walked the 1.5 mile path to the ocean. There, we found the wreck of the Peter Iredale, a sailing vessel that ran ashore in 1906. Families walked around and around the rusty hull, then dispersed to build sand castles and play Frisbee and brave the chilly waves. We lingered on the sunny beach, wishing we’d brought our bicycles to ride the seven miles of paved paths in the park.

Wreck of the Peter Iredale

Wreck of the Peter Iredale

A walk through Astoria proved just as much fun, however. Jonathan and The Spud visited the Columbia River Maritime Museum with its displays about shipwrecks and fishing boats and the Coast Guard while the terrier and I rambled down near the piers where just a few weeks before, 1,200 sea lions congregated, prohibiting boat launch until a man scared almost 1,000 of them off with his faux killer whale. (See the hilarious story here.)

The north coast of Oregon makes for a splendid classroom. You can visit museums, observe sea lions at rest and at play, wander beaches and forests, take a ride on a tall ship, and cross the gorgeous Astoria-Megler Bridge into Washington to gaze down at Clark’s Dismal Nitch where the Corps of Discovery once huddled against the rocks, stranded during a ferocious winter storm. Fortunately for us, the sun shone brightly this day, and we returned across the bridge to the Wet Dog Cafe for another couple of ciders, another Shirley Temple, and a puppy patty.

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Want to take a writing class with me? Check these out–enrollment ends soon!

June 29th-August 7, 2015–“Feature Writing for Magazines and Newspapers,” Whidbey Writers Workshop Post-MFA Course, 6-week class online, all writers welcome.

July 25th and 26th, 2015–“Heal Yourself Through Environmental Memoir,” Sitka Center for Art and Ecology, Otis, Oregon, 10 AM-4 PM both days. All writers welcome.

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Kayaking on the Oregon Coast with a Terrier in a PFD

I’m not a Mother’s Day brunch kind of gal. Give me a river, a kayak and a beach full of tidepools–I’m good to go. A carving station? Not so much.

My husband, knowing better than to sit me down in front of an all-you-can eat seafood bar, researched the Siuslaw Estuary Water Trail near Florence, Oregon. “It’s an adventure!” he told me and our 8-year old daughter (aka The Spud). We presented our new dog, April, with a terrier-sized life vest and headed west.

April, the intrepid terrier.

April, the intrepid terrier.

You’ve got two choices when you park at Bender Landing at low tide; you can either slog with your kayak through knee-high mud and drop it in the water, or you can rig a line 10 feet up on a retaining wall and lower your boat and climb down a metal ladder to the river. Either way, you’re guaranteed awkward hilarity.

We opted for the ladder, lowered our paddles and peanut butter sandwiches and the terrier, and started off laughing and unmuddied upstream. Paddlers on the Siuslaw can kayak 30 river-miles between Mapleton and the Pacific Ocean. It’s pretty country, I decided, but nothing beats kayaking the Siltcoos River 14 miles south. That’s my true love river, with its old growth and sand dunes that give way to Snowy plover territory and the ocean. We turned our boats around after a while, observed by a preternaturally calm egret, and paddled with the tide.

Egret

Heading south on the North Fork of the Siuslaw, you’ll see farms in the distance, and tractors and horses. We spotted more egrets sailing overhead, and vultures, and what looked to be a Northern harrier skimming the fields. Nutria emerged at the shoreline and scuttled off into tall weeds. Below us, fallen trees stretched out in the water with delicate plants all around them. On this sunny Mother’s Day weekend, the water felt warm enough for a swim. The Spud jumped in to the delight of our new terrier and splashed around a while.

MaiaKayak

It’s possible to kayak to Old Town Florence and tie up in pursuit of a scoop of BJs Oregon Trail ice cream. But we had some serious tidepooling to do, and so we paddled back to our put in and circled around the ladder and the muddy shoreline, weighing our options. Not willing to drag my kayak one-handed up the ladder, I got out on the shore and sunk immediately up to my knees. A pristine kayaker, preparing for a paddle, gaped at me from a picnic table on the grass. “That the only way in?” he asked.

I nodded at the narrow metal ladder and broke into laughter at the sight of my husband mired in the mud.

Our giddy giggling continued later when we walked down to the beach outside the Adobe Resort and discovered two people in the distance gathering up something in bags. A budding journalist, The Spud ran over to investigate.

“Maggots,” she reported back as I bent over a tidepool full of hermit crabs and turquoise anenomes. “They’re collecting maggots.”

I’d spotted five-inch long translucent jelly-like tubes on the beach. Confused, I decided these were maggots of some sort, and the couple had found use for them. I wanted to know just what that use was.

Not maggots–squid eggs.

Not maggots . . . squid eggs.

Not maggots . . . squid eggs.

“What are you collecting?” I asked with a bemused smile.

The man who replied gave me a sober look.

“Agates,” he said.

Turns out this beach, like Bob Creek Wayside a few miles south, offers agates the size of fingernails and fists. The latter, he said, can be worth hundreds of dollars which accounts for the beachcombers who show up hours before low tide to start searching. Those five-inch long jelly-like things? Apparently, they’re squid eggs flung by ocean waves to land among the velella velella (By-the-Wind Sailors).  Here, read this!

Velella vellela (By-the-Wind Sailors)

Velella velella (By-the-Wind-Sailors)

Velella velella (By-the-Wind-Sailors)

By day’s end, I had mud between my toes and tiny amber agates in my pockets. I had the memory of a terrier in a life vest, a child in the river, and a lunch to look forward to the next day at our favorite Mexican food restaurant, Los Compadres in Florence.

A very fine Mother’s Day, indeed.

I’m teaching a two-day workshop 7/25-7/26 titled “Heal Yourself through Environmental Memoir” at the lovely Sitka Center for Art and Ecology near Lincoln City, OR. There’s still time to register; I’d love to work with you!