{"id":6888,"date":"2021-04-01T07:02:48","date_gmt":"2021-04-01T14:02:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/?p=6888"},"modified":"2021-04-01T07:02:50","modified_gmt":"2021-04-01T14:02:50","slug":"a-last-pistol-river-fort","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/meditations\/a-last-pistol-river-fort\/","title":{"rendered":"A Last Pistol River Fort"},"content":{"rendered":"<!--themify_builder_content-->\n<div id=\"themify_builder_content-6888\" data-postid=\"6888\" class=\"themify_builder_content themify_builder_content-6888 themify_builder tf_clear\">\n    <\/div>\n<!--\/themify_builder_content-->\n\n\n<p>Early Sunday morning. A drizzle fell over the landscape. The ocean was silent and gray. I walked a beach strewn with rocks to see the mouth of the Pistol River one last time before I packed up my old life and began a new one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I arrived at the mouth and the mouth wasn&#8217;t there: blocked by sand. A river that couldn&#8217;t flow, couldn&#8217;t reach the ocean and begin the water cycle all over again. Oh well, soon enough a rainstorm would hit the watersheds and send the liquid down and eventually smash through the dam. I&#8217;d like to see that exact moment, but alas, I wouldn&#8217;t be around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>So instead of seeing the mouth, I decided to build a final driftwood fort on this magical estuary. Maybe the otters would join me. They had before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Driftwood abounded. I could have made a hundred forts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I started building. A minute in, the structure collapsed. I laughed. I was rusty from city slicker life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I started again because that is the very nature of building driftwood forts. You always start again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The fort began to rise and I labored as drivers on Highway 101 watched me or didn&#8217;t watch me. If they did, they might wonder why someone was down on the beach building a fort. Maybe they thought I was insane. Or on meth. Or some eccentric artist. Or maybe they didn&#8217;t wonder at all. There&#8217;s a lot of that going on these days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I found an old sandal stuffed into some kelp and sticks. Always a left foot. There&#8217;s a reason for that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was time to go. The fort was of course unfinished because no driftwood fort is ever finished. Only a fool or a novice would believe that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The afternoon winds of this beach renowned for para-sailing would undoubtedly collapse the fort. But maybe not and the fort might last a few days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I walked away, wondering if I&#8217;d ever walk this beach again.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Early Sunday morning. A drizzle fell over the landscape. The ocean was silent and gray. I walked a beach strewn with rocks to see the mouth of the Pistol River one last time before I packed up my old life and began a new one. I arrived at the mouth and the mouth wasn&#8217;t there: [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6889,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[29,5,32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6888","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-driftwood-forts","category-meditations","category-oregon-beaches","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\/6888","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=6888"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6888\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6891,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6888\/revisions\/6891"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6889"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6888"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6888"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6888"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}