The Dune

I passed through a tangle of low growing forest to reach the dune. Although on the lee side of the dune, the trees here were bent and deformed as if they had to yield to the wind to survive. I left the protection of the trees and emerged onto a sea of dune grass. A steep sandy trail led through the grass up the dune. 

Once in the dune, the sand was deep and the footing impossible. Each intractable step required a reset of balance. The dune seemed to have settled at the perfect angle of repose. The weight of the sand was exactly offset by the friction between the particles. Of course, my weight threw the system out of balance. Progress was slow and difficult and often I slid backward, my hands clutching at the moving sand.

Exhaustion set in. 

The ocean was just on the other side of the ridge but gave no indication of its existence over the calamity that was the wind in the beach grass.

The wind passed with ease through my layers of fleece and Gore-Tex.  Occasionally a burst of sand dashed across my face leaving my skin and eyes burning. Tears blurred my vision. The sand moving across the dune hissed at me as if in warning to retreat.

It was unusual for a cold front to arrive this early.  The town was still full of tourists lingering after the holiday. As I climbed the dune I could see the ocean on the other side. The surf was erratic. Eight-to-ten-foot brakers thundered over the sound of the blowing sand. Clouds were streaking over like low flying aircraft.

The beachgrass convulsed in the wind adding a high-pitched rattle to the white noise. I flushed a seabird from the grass. It rose and banked in the wind, then it was gone.

Lower in the grass was a dense thatch that covered the sand.  This space was sheltered from the wind and was occupied by a variety of small creatures. Snails, small snakes, mice, and an incomprehensible number of insects. Soon the snowy plovers would be breeding, and the State would close the dunes to all traffic.

Later, the winter rains would arrive. The tourist would go home leaving the town to the few hundred full time residents who would weather the stormy winter. The dune would rest and recover from the activities of the past summer. Wildness would return to the dune along with the larger winter residents: deer, bear, elk, mountain lion.

Much like the sand embedded in my clothing, his day stays with me as I ponder the winter darkness. I remain haunted by this time and place.

KMO 2025, Manzanita Oregon