On one of my trips from Portland to Cannon Beach I stayed at the Wave Crest Inn. I drove past it the previous time I was in town and later looked it up on the Internet. From one picture on the scant web site, I knew I wanted to see this place.
Where others strolled with their buckets of shells, we were dragging leaf bags along, combing the wrack zone, that line of debris where the tide recedes; where all manner of incongruent sea life coalesces. Steve and I shared a passion we never would with anyone else. Steve knew much about how to work kelp and take advantage of its ability to become as leather when wet, and wooden when dried. I followed through with finished products in my own style. [Read More]
Stop and talk to Watt Childress (who founded this website) any day at Jupiter’s Books in Cannon Beach and you’ll hear the gospel of community. The good news that our community is full of talent and special people and that we have much to give each other if we would find ways to share. Upper […]
Having never before visited, Cannon Beach didn’t conjure images of any kind for me other than sand and waves, which can be very misleading for someone visiting from sunny Southern California, where the waves are bigger, the sand can burn your feet, and everyone runs around half-naked instead of thrice layered.
By July, the Ecola Creek Forest Reserve will have a management plan, determining its future. Questions to be answers include: Will hunters dot the landscape? Will there be mountain bikers zipping through? Will some of the trees be thinned in order to re-create an old growth forest structure? Should dogs be leashed?
I was in bed last night, reading a book I bought from this teeny little bookstore I couldn’t remember the name of, despite having just been there hours before. As I was doing this, a little card fell out. Jupiter’s Rare & Used Books, right! That place. And I was thinking how badly I would rather be there than here (Vancouver, WA) at the moment.
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.
— Robert Hunter
Not far from here, in a parallel dimension, people are listening to the greatest hits of Zed Whimsy. Come gather round for a little musical testimony.
‘Twas the perfect day for an off-season wedding. Clouds blanketed Cannon Beach with sufficient wetness to justify rain pants. Enough bluster was present to dispense with hair styling.
Family members and friends huddled together on the sodden sand south of Ecola Creek. For the first time in my life, I was asked to officiate a wedding. The betrothed couple said they wanted me, even though I’m not an ordained anything, because of my core commitment to marriage.