OCEANSIDE, OREGON
iPhone 6 plus back camera ISO 32 4.5mm f /2.2 1/138
iPhone 6 plus back camera (fisheye lens) ISO 32 4.15mm f /2.2 1/842
iPhone 6 plus back camera ISO 32 4.15mm f /2.2 1/1464
Canon EOS 5D Mark II ISO 100 24mm f/11 1/125
I was living in Southern Oregon on my friend Kenny’s family farm during this period. I drove from that farm over the coastal range to meet my old friend Todd for a surf trip on the occasion of my birthday. We stayed in a cabin on the coast in the town of Oceanside. We surfed two mornings and evenings at the little beach break there in town. We also made a day trip to surf Cape Lookout. This turned out to be a long day after a miscalculation. A ranger told us we were at the trailhead, when in fact we were miles away, and a five mile hike roundtrip turned into ten up and down a very steep slope to reach the surf spot. We ran out of water and hydrated by eating salmon berries. The ranger might not have liked us because we were old friends from a town faraway and that’s annoying. I understand. It was fun anyway.
We also surfed one afternoon in Seaside. Afterwards we watched a Golden State Warriors game at a bar on the beach that had french fry food and beer. An opinionated local who we named “curley q” was posted up there. We’d seen him out in the lineup earlier. He postured and yelled in a way that caused Todd and I to laugh and look like jack o’ lanterns.
Night times, after long days of surfing I was in a phase where I’d drink beer and smoke cigarettes outside. Todd generally joined me for one or two and then went inside and slept with his hat on.
Also, we saw lots of whales very up close and laughed a lot about the modern human’s addiction to internet access which our cabin didn’t have.
Just before leaving we met two women who were also traveling, and had just arrived at the row of cabins. They seemed interested in getting to know new people and having life experiences. Rather than spending time with them, we kept to our itineraries and drove home. This made sense for Todd as an ethical married man and I would expect no less. I was the definition of a rootless, vagrant at the time, and it always fascinates me in retrospect how often I would make “responsible” decisions like this. I was supposed to return to Kenny’s farm in order to resume my duties of nannying, and letting the chickens in and out of the house they lived in. Couldn’t that have waited so that this door, now permanently closed in my memory, could have been opened to reveal the events on the other side? It’s always good to be responsible. One’s responsibilities though, must be continually re-evaluated from the perspective of a time and place faraway, such as now, where I type in a studio, as a committed, stationary, adult. Kenny would surely have understood.
