The winds blew! Ai! They howled and moaned. Buckets of water drenched this northern realm. Night and day, the incessant storm raged.
Afterwards, when only a few drops clung to the leafs, the devastation was everywhere. Roads and infrastructure. Flooded plains. This is what happens when you live on the last rugged frontier of the western world.
Down by the bay, English of name, a large barge moored itself against the rocks. Out of the mist, it came, like a ghost ship, and wedged itself pretty tight between the voluptuous boulders. Soon the news spread and curious folk came from all over town. I contrived not to be an ogler and so stayed away from those shores. Alas, I am a man of flesh and cannot stay away from the call of the siren. By and by, curiosity took a hold, and I changed my tune, and soon charted a course to that lonesome shore.
As it so happens, I had a bottle of Nicaraguan rum and decided this might be a good time to make something of it. I found a recipe for a drink that combined the liveliness of coffee and the vibrancy of rum. Pouring the ingredients into a thermos, I gave them a good shake, and soon I was off to sea once more.
The sun had already set, and not even five o’clock yet. Ah, these Northern lands! The icy stare of winter in the darkening sky. The motion of the stars in the heavens. Winter is coming. The leafs fall beneath the frozen promises of life eternal.
After the storm, the world stood still. The beach littered with detritus, branches and logs mostly. Seagulls glided over the high tide and swooped down onto the water. In the gentle waves, small aquatic birds popped to the surface. A cormorant bounced out of the shimmering surface. Black and mysterious. He looked around with its large eye, surveyed its tidal domain, then dove down into its depths.
I propped myself on the rocks and using my old camping mug, I poured the cocktail of rum, coffee, and chocolate. I’m not the fancy kind, but a man can treat himself once in a while, can’t he? Oh yes, I even took a can of whip-cream for old time’s sake.
The cry of the seagulls grew annoyingly incessant. They had a raucous going. Round and round they went circling as they followed the ever elusive school of fish beneath the surface. They dove and came up empty. I shook my head. What would they have done if we had not invented French fries, I wondered.
At last I had enough of the birds, so I carried on with the business at hand. I navigated towards my destination. Walking along the beach, avoiding the crowded seawall. I was soon rewarded with a fascinating sight. The wreckage of a boat, lying there like the carcass of an exotic sea creature. A little girl swung from a board dangling from the mast. That’s right. Our fine citizens decided it would be a good idea to let children swing from the wreckage of a boat.
By six, the last remnants of twilight had faded to black. I could see the barge in the distance. It loomed against the gray sky. A beast. What was in it? Amazon wonders perhaps? Like any red-blooded man, I began to wonder how I could sneak inside the barge and plunder its treasures. To my disappointment, I noticed that portions of the seawall around the barge had been closed off with construction barriers and tape. Darn, I had been looking forward to taking close snapshots of the barge. Surely, a little tape wouldn’t stop me from getting down onto the rocks and taking a few pictures? No, perhaps the tape couldn’t stop me from doing it, but the security guard inside the parked car could. I saw him step out of the vehicle and shoo away some distracted gawkers who had ignored the barriers closing off the path. So that was the end of my get-rich-quick scheme.
Darkness arrived and things got weird.
Mysterious blobs glowed in the water. Was it just the reflection of the spectral sky, or something more ancient roaming in the deep?
A great blue heron stood in the waves. Silent. Still. Creepy as hell. I had not seen him until I nearly stumbled upon him. It did not acknowledge me. Nothing could disturb him; a wise creature- patient and calm. The world could crumble for all he cared. Time was eternal and only this moment mattered.
The heron tilted his head then struck! Something writhed and flopped in his beak. Silvery in the dim light. The heron swallowed. Tilted his head again, gazing into the water, then struck again!
What an avian wonder. Such amazing precision!
I left the bird to his devices and soon moved on down the beach.
Darkness had enveloped the land. The crowds had retreated. The waves lapped gently, whispering its marine secrets. The blob glowed in the water. Pulsating.
Hunting in the dark.
Strange creatures of the Pacific Northwest.
Other storms loomed over the horizon, but for now the water was calm. The blob glowed, the heron gazed, and the seagulls cried. A cool breeze blew from the ocean, and the lights shimmered on the waves.
Mood Music
Off to Sea Once More by Jerry Garcia and David Grisman