After 18 years of going to the Oregon Coast, to this day, every time I enter Florence or Newport, I roll my car window all the way down and take a deep breath in. It never fails that my senses are flooded with the smell of the ocean, salty and fresh.
My family and I used to pack up the car and head on our way to drive a short 60 miles from home to the Oregon Coast. Those short 60 miles felt like a lifetime as a kid. I guess I fell in love with the ocean at a very young age. As a child, going to the coast was utterly exciting. Going to the coast meant walking across seaweed and barnacle-covered rocks with bare feet. The coast meant collecting seashells and sand dollars and being overwhelmed with excitement when I found a whole sand dollar. Sandwiches and chips and fruit spread across a blanket for lunch is what the coast meant.
Nothing has really changed except for the fact that now I am the one packing up my small white car with some close friends and heading for Highway 99 to drive 60 miles to the coast. I still walk barefoot across seaweed and barnacle-covered rocks, even though I end up with cuts on my feet at the end of the day. I still walk along the sand, and every once in a while, I will find a seashell that I can’t just pass up, and I put it in my pocket to treasure. And yes, I am still excited when I find a whole sand dollar because, let's be honest, that doesn’t happen every day. I still pack a sandwich, fruit, and chips every time I go to the coast. I still bring a blanket to sit on while I eat lunch.
There’s something about the Oregon Coast that a lot of people fail to mention. No matter the time of year, no matter the day, no matter the weather, the Oregon Coast is always beautiful. It can be the stormiest, rainiest day of the year, but the waves still crash against the massive rocks that line the ocean and there are still tide pools with various sea creatures in them. Sitting on the sand with three jackets and a North Face, two pairs of pants, and a hat is one of my favorite things. And no matter how cold it is, there is no question that I will have my shoes off and I will still be walking in the water, even if it is 45 degrees.
The way I see it, there really isn’t anything quite like the Oregon Coast. It isn’t sunny year round, and the beaches aren’t crowded. The water is not really swimmable, and there are generally obstructions on the sand. But these obstructions, these massive, tall standing rocks, are works of art created by God and nature together. These works of art are ones of pure beauty, as they are covered in hundreds of different life forms drug in by the ocean. The sand isn’t always warm, but on the hottest days, the sand will burn the soles of your feet until you reach the water, where you find sweet relief.
There is nothing more breathtaking, to me, than watching the waves crash against the rocks and the water shooting up toward the sky, only to fall back to where it came from. Every once in a while I'll stand at the edge of the tallest rock I can find,and I’ll wait for a wave to come that sends water misting over me, and occasionally drenching me.
The ocean ties me to my grandma, who I lost last November. Even on the most overcast, grey days, there is always a sky painted in the most vivid colors as sunset, and I can’t help but think that it is her. And no matter how many times I have returned to the ocean since I have lost her, I tear up a little every time because I know she would have loved to be there and how she would’ve loved to see the ocean one last time.
No matter how many times I leave the coast, I know in my heart that I will always return to it. When I need to escape the harsh realities of the world, or just need to get out of my own head, I know I can always pack up my car, grab a few friends and drive the 60 miles that, to this day, still feel like a lifetime. And when I set foot on the sand and walk in the cold water, all of my troubles seem to melt away.
