Monday, March 19, 2007

blog #003 >>The Curse of the Peter Iredale
(a very long blog)

Aye, it all started on the night of the great storm... the sea rose and fell like the stroke of an axe, the wind screamed like a banshee, and the full moon, that great silvery eye, watched as the ship stuck aground on those sharp, jagged teeth...

...Well, I'm afraid that is not really how my story starts. If you want to read a story about a shipwreck than close this blog and pick up Robinson Crusoe. If however you want to read about my trip to the beach, my adventures there, and what it has to do with the wreak of the Peter Iredale... then please read on. If you do not have time to read all this, then skip to the cliff notes at the end.

My story starts with coconut cream pie... not just any coconut cream pie, but the best coconut cream pie in the world. And there is only one place to get this coconut cream pie, and that is at Dory's Cove, a delightful little restaurant in Lincoln City. The waitress comes in early every morning and bakes this pie from scratch. (You see it was all part of my mini-roadtrip. I was going to Lincoln City to visit my parents who where camping, to Longview to see my sister for her birthday, and then to Seattle to go to Ikea, and finally back home again.) So anyhow, before leaving for Longview I stopped for lunch at Dory's Cove. But, after eating all that clam chowder and fish'n chips I wasn't hungry enough to eat the pie. So, I boxed it up for later, (forgetting a fork) and hit the road.

After about three hours of driving I got hungry and started to think, "hmm, I should really stop and eat that pie." And the longer I waited the better it sounded. And then I thought, "I should really stop before I get to Washington and while I'm still along the coast, that way I can sit on the beach and eat." (It was a beautiful sunny day.) A little further down the road was a sign that marked Fort Stevens St. Park with beach access. Perfect. So I slammed on the breaks and turned. In Fort Stevens (a fairly large park) was a beach called shipwreck beach and my adventurous nature awoke. I pulled up, grabbed my pie, my camera, and my map, (but left my purse safely in the car), and took a look around. There is not much left of the Peter Iredale just a rusty skeleton, but it was a nice day, so I sat on a log and ate my pie (without a fork) and looked at the map. When finished I picked up my stuff and hiked back to the car... only my pockets seemed really light. Then to my horror I see my keys sitting on the seat and my spare key locked in the car with my purse. I was stranded. After banging my head on the car three or four times... I came to my senses and realize that I do have my cell phone in my pocket. Thank God for cell phones... and I also thanked God that there was a cell phone tower within sight. I made the call, not the type of call you look forward to, the embarrassing type that goes like this, "Have you ever had one of those days..." Well at least help was on the way, three and a half hours away, but coming. So, I sat on that same log and wallowed in my depressed, desperation for about five minuets.

And after that my always cheerful disposition said, "things could always be worse, it is a nice day and not raining, and there are lots of nice, friendly, but not at all helpful people around." So the wheels in my ever creative head started to turn and I thought, "There is a lot of junk on this beach, and I do know how to jimmy a lock, if I could find a chunk of wire I could be out of here in no time." So, I walked down the beach, up where it smells like rotten fish, and all the junk floats to during high tide, in search of wire. I must confess that I have never before really taken the time to look at all the junk on a beach, normally I go down to the water and look for rocks. I had never realized what interesting and disgusting things you can find. I saw: some chap stick, a bunch of bottles, a pop can, some rope, a small net, a broken shovel, old fireworks, a bone (which I hope was not human), a light bulb, a dead sea gull, some Styrofoam, and a fluorescent tube. Which made me think, "I wonder if there is wire in there?" Yes, I know how fluorescent lights work, but I was still curious and very bored. I figured with all the other broken glass around what's a little more... Looking around to make sure no one saw... I threw it at a nearby log, and missed. So I threw it again... (and I must add that I will never again break a fluorescent tube intentionally.) It exploded, there was no wire in it, and a visible gas seeped out of it. (Not knowing if neon gas was toxic) I ran, and gave up the wire attempt. And once again sat on my log.

Then the light bulb in my head lit up, "This park has a campground, and campgrounds have camphosts and camphosts have coat hangers, and coat hangers are wire." So I walked toward the campground on the bike trail. I didn't realize how large the park was. One thing I must add about this trail is that almost every part of it looked exactly the same, weathered pine trees and scotchbroom on either side. (better know as devil's weed to seasonal allergy suffers like myself) After about a half hour and many turns and walking under the road, I reach the information desk. I walked up and it was closed for the season. However, they had lots of historical information about the Peter Iredale. Unforturately, the nearby coffee stand was also closed. However, there was a payphone, and payphones have phonebooks, and phonebooks have locksmiths, and locksmiths have slim jims, and slim jims are wire... I called, he'd be there in a half hour. Perfect half hour in, half hour out. I started back as fast as I could walk.

As I was walking along I noticed a number 4 marker, "well okay, I saw 1, 2, and 3, on the way so I probabely just missed 4." I continued on... Then I saw marker 6, "well I'm sure that I didn't see 6 and I should have passed under the road by now, but I'll go a little further." Then I saw a stream, a large maple tree and a small rusted metal structure, "I know I didn't see that!" So, I turned around and ran back, walked fast back and walked back. And just a little ahead of the turn off where I got off course was the road. I had walked at least 20 minutes out of my way. Which meant that I was going to miss the lock smith, unless I picked up the pace; I had no pace left in me by this time. But, I marched on just the same.

Now I began to think, "I've been gone a long time... and my car is parked in a not so safe place, with my purse, and keys, in plain sight." I imagined getting back and finding nothing but a little pile of glass left where my car was, and the lock smith leaving when he didn't see the car or anyone around. I walked faster.

Quite out of breathe I began to be able to hear the ocean and then I saw it... the lock smith and my car. I was overjoyed. Before I knew it I was sitting happily in my car, driving away with the windows down and stereo loud.

Moral of the story: A magnetic key box is what everyone needs, or at least a chunk of wire.
Cliff Notes: story, pie, drive, keys get locked in car, look for wire, hike, call lock smith, hike, get lost, get keys out, drive.

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