Swapping Paradises

March 30th, 2008 at 08:19pm Kit O'Carra 51

   Last summer I swapped paradises. After decades of life in the Rocky Mountains, I never expected that I would return to my coastal foundations to live at sea level again. The first sign of infection was my desire to properly learn to sail in 2006.

Sure, I already spent time over the years in the water on powerboats and the more laid back ships under sail. I managed to handle both when I needed to, but not with full confidence. I wanted to learn all there is to know about sailing, so that when I have my own live-aboard vessel, I won’t feel like a stranger in a foreign land.  

Leaving Colorado wasn’t easy. I had my doubts. I had more than my share of fear. I knew that the only way to do it was jump in without knowing how deep the water was. There was no plan in effect. It was almost a spur of the moment decision. It had to be; the longer I gave thought to leaving, the more likely it was I would never find the courage to leave. Change is a difficult experience, but it was time. The mountains and I had run our course in our relationship. The bug had spread and I couldn’t wait to breathe in the salty air once again. The Oregon Coast was about to be my new home.

The risk of leaving what was known as my life in the mountains has paid off. I have the best of nature here. I can walk three blocks and be on the beach. I step outside my back deck and walk thirty yards down the hill to the lake and private boat docks. In the evening I witness incredible sunsets. In the course of a day I can watch rain and hail in the morning turn to snow, then step outside under blue skies on a perfect spring day within a few hours of the wet skies drying up. A dozen deer graze off my deck several times each day. A bald eagle has a favorite branch in a dead pine tree, where he can scan the lake for signs of activity he considers for lunch. Osprey and Seahawks find ways of hiding themselves in the dense forest ten yards out the back door.

I’m up in the morning while it is still dark outside. I have a twenty-five mile drive to work, south of where I live. The commute is down Pacific Coast Highway 101. For the most part I have a constant view of the ocean, with the brief exceptions while driving through thick forest. The highest elevation I reach is 500 feet above sea level, at the top of Cape Foulweather. Once I see the Yaquina Lighthouse in the distance I know I will be at work in another fifteen minutes, unless I let up on the gas and stretch out my time outdoors to count the number of boats that are out this early in the morning. The sun is rising as I leave my house and my entire drive to work takes me through a more spectacular experience than I have ever seen anywhere else before.

A coastal sunrise. How does a writer describe one and do it justice? These photographs make an attempt, but can't really provide you with that wrap-around feeling of being there in the moment. Hemmingway was simple. He described it as “The sun came up.”  In Homer’s Odyssey it was “Rosy – fingered Dawn appeared.”  The sunrise I was presented with the other day was one of those moments we want to tell everyone about. It was the kind you want to get on the phone and tell your friends about. It was something that I immediately wanted to write about, but kept putting it off until now. It was like nothing I had ever been privileged to see before. This sunrise seemed like it was the main event I had needed to finally make me feel at home, without any regrets of leaving Colorado. It was my ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ gift from God.

It had rained most of the night before. The storm was still hanging around the area, but without the need for the wipers to run at a constant pace. Every few minutes were enough to clear the view. The sky was mostly dark gray, except to the east, where the background was filled with mountains, pine trees and clouds of colors that ranged from gold to orange, brown, smoke, gray, pink, and some white puffs now and then. The sun caused them to keep changing color. The few little valleys of the mountains had mist hanging in them. To the south the sky was very dark gray. To the west, the ocean seemed black. The sky wasn’t much lighter than the sea. Something was causing the waves breaking to appear pink instead of white. It was glorious! I wanted to stop the car, and stop time. I didn’t want this color palette to end. I found myself wishing I was on that black sea in my own boat taking it all in.

This experience lasted nearly thirty minutes. By the time I was almost to work it began to rain and the wind was blowing it sideways. The sun was up, the pink, gold, orange and brown clouds were now varying shades of gray, and I tried to remember when I had ever been privy to a sunrise like this one before. The strange thing is that I have never been one to really appreciate sunrises. I have always been a sunset kind of person. Until now.

There are times I miss Colorado. Thankfully, there are days like my Sunrise Day that allow me to admit I made the right choice. I wish you could have been here to see it. I hope you all have one of your own one day.
 
 

Entry Filed under: Travel, Outdoors, Women, The West