Monday, October 29, 2007

On the way to Crescent City




...moss- and fungi-covered...


Crescent City

There is not much to speak of when it comes to the city itself. The town reminds me of older, World War Two Army posts that have slowly morphed and evolved over the intervening decades. About half of this city was destroyed and twelve people killed by a tsunami spawned thousands of miles to the north during the 1964, Alaskan Good Friday earthquake.

The Oregon Coast

Exulation is the going
Of an inland soul to the sea,
Past the houses--past the headlands--
Into deep Eternity--

Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?

-Emily Dickinson

Sweetwater kisses salt, where freshwater meets the sea.

By far the best fish and chips that I have had on this side of the Atlantic. And in a tiny, little-known town of two hundred or so souls.

It took about five minutes for this rapacious gull to turn the living, kicking crab in this photo into a hollow shell. An act of hunger that was cold, mechanistic, and carried out with not the least sign of empathy.

Where the massive Columbia River meets the sea, international shipping waits to switch river pilots for bar pilots, who will guide the vessels across the notoriously treacherous sandy bar into the open ocean.

Crossing a three-mile bridge over the river’s mouth


If eternity is anything like the Oregon Coast, I could happily pass it solitude.

There is something about this volume of space that is the perfect combination of earth, sea, air, and mist. It is the elements made manifest, and the world’s hidden dynamics made visible. Here one can physically see existence's underlying relationships and kinetic realities.

The Olympic Peninsula

In the rainforest

Standing on the northern shores of America, looking at Canada.

Taking the ferry from the peninsula, to Whitby Island, to Seattle.

My car's first boat ride.

The Day in Seattle

They had the coolest exhibition of western-influenced, medieval Japanese art at the Seattle Museum of Art.

My spacious, cheap, and utterly down-at-the heels, 1920s downtown hotel.