On the watch for Jaws and Namu

Today is the last riding day of our trip down the Oregon coast. Tonight we'll be in Crescent City, CA. I woke up early this a.m. as Harris Beach has lots to see and explore and what better time to do it than at the crack of dawn. Chinook and I took a stroll down the "Marine Trail" which was a nice circuitous path down to the beach. Chinook, as always, led the way, sniffing at all the vegetation as he went. I've always wondered what it would be like to see the world through a pooches eyes, ears, and nostrils. That may never happen but I get to sample the experience vicariously through the fifty-five pounds of fur trotting ahead of me down the path. This morning there is some fog and light mist and it feels that we are the first creatures to ever set eyes on this part of the coast. As the trail meanders down to the surf ahead there is a 'sea stack', a huge hill of rock sticking up out of the ocean about twenty yards off shore. In it's middle is a triangular shaped crack approximately 15 yards wide and about the same in height. The crack goes completely through the sea stack and the ocean waves come right into the opening where they get compressed in the narrowed fissure. The net effect is that the pent up energy of the waves blows through the fissure expelling thousands of gallons of sea water onto the rocks we are approaching. Chinook is mesmerized and so am I as we both stand still taking in the show. I can't tell if the tide is coming in or going out, but the area at our feet is clearly underwater at high tide. I can only imagine the waves rolling into the area in front of us at high tide or when a storm front passes through. We continue down the trail that wraps around onto a sandy beach. Off shore the ocean looks peaceful and quiet and there are a couple of small boats half a mile offshore with kindred early risers already fishing for this day's catch. Last night, while I was in the campground cooking dinner Sophie and Chinook had come down to this same beach and saw a seal being washed to and fro in the waves at sunset. I've read that the riskiest time to be a marine mammal in the ocean is at sunrise or sunset as that is when the predators (my mind conjure up images of great white sharks big enough to swallow us whole) are most active. Looking at the water, which is not very clear and quite murky I can only imagine that for the hapless seal in the wrong place at the wrong time the only saving grace is that it would not see what was coming at it from the depths below. This morning, Chinook is happily oblivious to all of this as he runs into the surf belly deep before bounding back onto dry land. Signs along the Oregon coast ask beach visitors to report sightings of Killer Whales so as to track where they are. Fortunately we see neither Jaws nor Namu during our early morning foray. Then it's back up the hill to breakfast and then out on the road where the only things we have to worry about are logging trucks, inattentive RV drivers, and all sorts of local residents doing their best impression of small town Oregon rush hour.