Jan. 27th, 2007 10:35 pm
Oregon: Day 4
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muckefuckI cannot remember when I last felt so bone-tired. At least tonight is better than last night; at one point, I was sitting on the couch with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's jacket over me for warmth, too tired to imagine lifting my arms--much less my body--to do anything.
The surfers would be apt to disagree, but the trip to the coast went just about as perfectly as could be imagined. We made a pit stop in the Jedediah Smith Redwoods so I could see them up close and all the occupants of the car--human and otherwise--could have a potty break and then arrived as the beach midafternoon. We strolled for a mile or two with the dogs running wild--it was Angel's first trip to the shore and she didn't know what to make of anything, from the superabundance of sand to the briny water. I felt energetic enough then, but I absolutely collapsed back at the trailer.
The prospect of fresh crab revived me and I managed to do some damage to a dungeoness. By that time, it was more-or-less clear that the pain in the back of my throat wasn't an allergic reaction of some sort but a run-of-the-mill sore throat, doubtless brought on by a mixture of tiredness and the dank climate. There's still snow on the ground in the valley and the mist never burns off before one in the afternoon.
The coast was balmy enough, though, and we couldn't have asked for better weather for the ceremony. The spot they picked really is uncommonly beautiful, with a striking view of the surf-washed rocks below, the birch-and-spruce-covered mountain slops, and the misty curve of bay. There was some untintended hilarity whenmonshu's nephew mistakenly read "threatened" for "heartened" into the 23rd Psalm, but we were so choked up we couldn't chuckle about it until many hours later.
I'm afraid the GWO came back from our trip to St. George's Point completely lobstered (who thinks of sunblock in January?), but other than that it was a gorgeous time. I kept anticipating watching the men test the breakers with their boards, but they found the waves barely passable and decided to try South Beach. At that point,monshu was wearing out, so we caught a ride back in the truck of his niece's father-in-law.
He fell asleep a few moments ago as we listened to Jean Redpath and petted the cat. Kitty is very thrilled not to have to compete for our attention with any nasty dirty dogs for a change; I guess Angel is staying at the Homestead tonight. It was appropriate to have her at the scattering, and a boon for me, since whenever I felt like I was hovering too much I could pretend to be very concerned about her welfare and continued good behaviour.
Tomorrow is, thankfully, a day with no travel at all. We could walk to the little cafe where we're having supper and, unless I feel absolutely terrible, I think we will. It's hard to say when we'll ever be out here again, if ever. I miss it already.
monshu's jacket over me for warmth, too tired to imagine lifting my arms--much less my body--to do anything.The surfers would be apt to disagree, but the trip to the coast went just about as perfectly as could be imagined. We made a pit stop in the Jedediah Smith Redwoods so I could see them up close and all the occupants of the car--human and otherwise--could have a potty break and then arrived as the beach midafternoon. We strolled for a mile or two with the dogs running wild--it was Angel's first trip to the shore and she didn't know what to make of anything, from the superabundance of sand to the briny water. I felt energetic enough then, but I absolutely collapsed back at the trailer.
The prospect of fresh crab revived me and I managed to do some damage to a dungeoness. By that time, it was more-or-less clear that the pain in the back of my throat wasn't an allergic reaction of some sort but a run-of-the-mill sore throat, doubtless brought on by a mixture of tiredness and the dank climate. There's still snow on the ground in the valley and the mist never burns off before one in the afternoon.
The coast was balmy enough, though, and we couldn't have asked for better weather for the ceremony. The spot they picked really is uncommonly beautiful, with a striking view of the surf-washed rocks below, the birch-and-spruce-covered mountain slops, and the misty curve of bay. There was some untintended hilarity when
monshu's nephew mistakenly read "threatened" for "heartened" into the 23rd Psalm, but we were so choked up we couldn't chuckle about it until many hours later.I'm afraid the GWO came back from our trip to St. George's Point completely lobstered (who thinks of sunblock in January?), but other than that it was a gorgeous time. I kept anticipating watching the men test the breakers with their boards, but they found the waves barely passable and decided to try South Beach. At that point,
monshu was wearing out, so we caught a ride back in the truck of his niece's father-in-law.He fell asleep a few moments ago as we listened to Jean Redpath and petted the cat. Kitty is very thrilled not to have to compete for our attention with any nasty dirty dogs for a change; I guess Angel is staying at the Homestead tonight. It was appropriate to have her at the scattering, and a boon for me, since whenever I felt like I was hovering too much I could pretend to be very concerned about her welfare and continued good behaviour.
Tomorrow is, thankfully, a day with no travel at all. We could walk to the little cafe where we're having supper and, unless I feel absolutely terrible, I think we will. It's hard to say when we'll ever be out here again, if ever. I miss it already.