October

Let’s start the show with a moment of silence for the passing of the fort. It sure had a good run. Anonymous artists wasted no time in salvaging and repurposing its architectural elements into a mobile abstract sculpture installation. I love this place.

There have already been some high tides, and a storm which was  a byproduct of a typhoon in Japan. It was evidenced in the loss of the fort, and also in the vanished path down to the beach which had been cut in the sand at the end of Whipple Ave.

No beach access.

My path through the forest to the beach is still the same, for now. The ladders are still intact, as is the last tree standing of what was a circle of dead trees, seen on the left. I am really going to miss these ladders, and the trees, of course.

I fancy myself a tree-hugger, yet I am really enjoying having those two scary trees on my property gone. I know, I’ll hit the ol’ Desaturate button and then I won’t feel so bad. Everything is better in black and white.

My trailer is suffused with light now, for as long as there is light, which won’t be for long.

Vagabond.

In other news, three astronomers just won the Nobel Prize for Physics by finding that the universe is being blown apart by a mysterious anti-gravitational force called dark energy, which is pushing the galaxies apart. I thought it was just me being morose, the economy, the environment, or the change in the weather. What a relief!

It is as if, a science writer noted, “when you tossed your car keys in the air, instead of coming down, they flew faster and faster to the ceiling.”

Sandpoint planet.

No sense permitting some prophet of doom to wipe every smile away. Life is a cabaret, old chum! It is October, and  I can still wear sunglasses.

There were the most shockingly beautiful clouds. A friend who grew up out here was telling me these clouds are not normal. Everywhere I looked seemed designed to stop me in my tracks and slap me upside the head with gratitude.

Quote, unquote.

It appears that Mario’s place is being blown apart by mysterious forces known as dark energy, both getting ripped down and about to fall in the ocean at the same time.

Tides-A-Com’n. This is what a beach walk looks like in winter, scrambling under the overturned trees, always trying to stay on dry land, or get up to high ground.

Passageway

I read a NYT article about a couple of cancer specialists who bought a place on the water in Maine after one of them got cancer. Working with cancer patients “makes you so aware of the existential realities in life, helps to crystallize its wonder and to be continuously aware of its uncertainties,” Dr. Lowell E. Schnipper said. “If you listen carefully to your patients, you are always living your life a little closer to the edge.”

Gun turret re-emerges.

My friend Regnor is home from the hospital after surgery for esophageal cancer. He got his esophagus shortened and stomach reconfigured, after which, his granddaughter Olivia noticed, he no longer has a belly button.

Regnor says his friend Rick Swanson didn’t miss a beat. “Just tell ’em you’re in the Navel Reserve.”

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About washybeach

Washaway Beach This Week is a blog by photojournalist Erika Langley. See more work at www.erikalangley.com.
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4 Responses to October

  1. Tom Turkey says:

    Always so nice to see sunshine at the ocean, in October, no less!

  2. Cindy H. says:

    This post came as I was heading out the door for Grayland Beach State Park on Oct. 8. I discovered my handheld GPS showed all the original streets in North Cove. So I drove up and down each street and up to the barricades. This left a green tracing on the GPS map which clearly separated what was eroded from what still exists. I also enjoyed spotting the objects from your pictures. The weather and tides weren’t too cooperative so I didn’t actually get down for a beach walk. That will have to be next time. I find this area fascinating. Thanks for the great posts.

  3. Sheila Marie says:

    I just found your website and I am loving it. I’m in California, but my Grandparents have had property on Spruce as long as I can remember. I just wonder if you use the term “Tides-A-Com’n” because you saw the sign with the same words on my Grandpa’s trailer? His initials are CMN, so that sign was made for him quite a few years ago. I was last there at the beginning of August, and I hear the tide is definitely a com’n alot closer now!!! My Grandpa will be 90 in April, so I hope to be able to visit then, and be able to see that old place one more time before it enters eternity in the sea.

    • Sheila Marie says:

      Well, seems I’m out of luck, the ocean is knocking on my Grandpa’s doorstep. They expect the tides to take it away very soon. Tide is definitely a comin’.

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