I took the trail along the river that led to the secret estuary. On my previous visit, which occurred in a dream, I was pressed for time and didn’t follow the trail to its end.<\/p>\n
Now, here I was dreaming about it again.<\/p>\n
Fifty yards into my hike, knee-high water blocked my path. It made no sense. It was low tide and the slough should have been drained.<\/p>\n
I backtracked and found another trail at a slightly higher elevation. A hundred yards in, water, water, water. I pulled off my Pumas and socks, then put the Pumas back on, rolled up my corduroys above the knees, and plunged in! Nothing would stop me. I had to see this place.<\/p>\n
I walked through three or four pools and then the marsh turned into dune. I hiked through the dunes until I beheld a magnificent beach with an astonishing amount and assortment of driftwood. No one else was around for miles and miles.<\/p>\n
There was so much driftwood it was like walking on driftwood flooring. A piece of beaverwood caught my eye. Then another. Then another. Every third or fourth step led to the discovery of more beaverwood. I started picking up the best specimens for my collection like a kid trick or treating on Halloween. I felt like I was losing my mind, but in a good way, a way forgotten by most adults.<\/p>\n
I noticed a large sawed round of wood, upright like a coffee table. It had a beaver stick on it. Clam shells were arrayed in half circle a few feet away, as if they were placed there as an offering. Nearby was a little sculpture of intertwined beaver sticks.<\/p>\n
What was this? What realm had I entered? Who or what had left this behind?<\/p>\n
I left the stick alone. It would have been the centerpiece of my collection but it seemed sacrilegious to take it.<\/p>\n\n
I took the trail along the river that led to the secret estuary. On my previous visit, which occurred in a dream, I was pressed for time and didn’t follow the trail to its end. Now, here I was dreaming about it again. Fifty yards into my hike, knee-high water blocked my path. It made […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4269,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,32],"tags":[11,862,211,385,13,86,100],"class_list":["post-4268","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-oregon-beaches","tag-beavers","tag-beaverwood","tag-dreams","tag-estuary","tag-oregon-coast","tag-river","tag-secret-oregon-coast","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4268","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4268"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4268\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4270,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4268\/revisions\/4270"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4269"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4268"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4268"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4268"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}