Meanwhile At The Coast...

The walk through the back dunes seemed familiar enough. We kept hearing the ocean and smelling broken dreams wafting over its salty brine, so we figured it was still there where we left it on our last visit. But once we emerged from the vegetation, we couldn't find that damned pond anywhere. The wind was now pretty fierce and sustained, blowing sand and moisture our way. Still no waves, though, with barely 50 meters of visibility.

This menagerie looked like the camp of nomadic wanderers after the apocalypse. It was not the scene we were expecting. Still, though, it was quite lovely and—we say this as transplants—it seemed quintessentially Washingtonian.

Anyway, we pressed onward only to spy a curious sight...

What's this? Marauders on horseback. In the post-apocalypse, when gasoline is scarce, we once again enslave the once-proud Equines to transport us. We can only imagine the choice words and not-so-veiled threats being hurled from these quadruped-mounted ruffians on the peaceful minivan band of humans.

We looked around thinking we'd see a time-warped Mel Gibson—the one from his deliciously leather-clad, eurotrashy, Mad Max, bi-curious-looking days—speed his interceptor into the scene. No such luck, of course, as that Mel is now long dead.

Finally, though, some brave chaps on mechanized, two-wheeled steeds showed up to clear up the matter. Sadly, it was not Wez (he of the famed buttless chaps).

In the state of Washington, one can drive on selected stretches of beach, as they are designated state highways. We have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, automotive beaches are relatively trashier, although, to be fair, you'll find careless hillbillies trashing up other beaches, as well. Ocean Shores' beach isn't especially nasty, but we would not walk barefoot on the portion where cars are allowed.

On the other hand, what's a few miles here and there of dripping carcinogenic motor oil and sweet delicious coolant to balance out the more pristine beaches? Motorized vehicles on the beach, we've found, are a lot like personal watercraft: annoying to watch others muck up the ecosystem and pierce your enjoyment of it with their obnoxious noise...until you yourself take a thrilling joy ride. We've taken scooters out onto the beach before and it's a lot of fun. At least when four-wheelers drive onto the sand, they drive slowly, park, and hang out; it is not like the trashy ORV park in Moses Lake.

We inquired of this jellyfish (we think that's what it was... we could see some tentacular extensions at one end that aren't apparent in the picture) and even it couldn't point us to the elusive sea. Of course, we did go out exactly at low tide, so the water was pretty far out.

Eventually we found the ocean. It is still there. Fear not. How many other blogs in this waterside shantytown dear Reader, will go to the ends of the earth to confirm the obvious?

Unfortunately, we didn't get far enough away to escape NBC's Phelpsfluffing. However, the Canadians' superior coverage, NBC's monopoly of Bela Karolyi notwithstanding, made it all palatable.