Highlights, observations, stats, and the collective activities roster from an epic two day, eight person, gloriously beachy weekend getaway in little ol' Pacific City, Oregon.
The word version:
Most incredible fiery-ball-into-the-ocean-sunset you've ever seen. Frisbee. Sandy ups. Earth Day. Beach house rental. Salmon dinner. Creepy dolphin swings. Milk-drinking sharks. Firewood. Shooting stars. High fives. The saddest buoy you've ever heard, Poseidon blowing over an empty bottle. Late night. Bunk beds and floor space. Early morning. Cold water. Perfect waves, gently rolling, glassy and lava-like. Good light. Wetsuit surfing. Dudes who look like seals. Crab claws that look like sharp-toothed jawbones. Cold hands. Hot shower. Rock hounding. Binoculars. Haystack rock. Tide pools. Starfish. Anemones, blue bowls of soft, sticky tongues. Mussels. Whiny barnacles, spitting secrets. Dragon toes, I swear it. No rain. Coffee. Eggs. Sun! Bare feet! Shorts. Pale skin. Sand. Splash. Oh my God, sun! Skimboarding. Walking. Running. The riding of bikes. The riding of handlebars on bikes. The climbing of dunes. Sun. Attempted mussel harvesting. Failed mussel harvesting. Sun. Breeze. Kite flying, its like walking an airborne dog. Creative kite boarding. Bare belly to the sun. Seagulls. Sand dollars. Dead cormorant. Reading. The observation of basketball. The observation of an epic Blazers comeback. Napping. Miami Vice. Spaghetti. Kindling. Wood stove. Fire.The aggressive consumption of untold quantities of beer. Cards. Poker. Real classy chips, the kind that make a solid thump when they fall. Did you put enough in? House wins. Fail. Full refunds granted. Take that dollar and buy yourself something nice, kid. Late night. Minimal but happy sleep. Sunday morning paper. Orange juice. Rain. Scandinavian apple pastry delights with unpronounceable names. New friends. Sleepy drive. Perfect spring weekend.
The picture version:
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| Stay gold, Pony Boy |
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| But my party will be truly safron |
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| Point Break |
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| Hey! Stack Rock |
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| Baby Sarlaccs? |
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| Low Tide |
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| Asteroidea: as in minor planets, as in five-armed wonders |
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| Blorpville |
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| Check out these guns |
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| Come here often? |
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| Pools |
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| Riding on handlebars in spring is pure whimsy-fun-pleasure |
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| Seriously, give us a puppy in a basket and clear bell |
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| The optimist pleasantly ponders how high her kite will fly |
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| Riding it |
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| Even the dead still find ways to be beautiful |
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| Go on and dance yourself clean |
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