As much as I love Seattle, sometimes the perfect prescription to recharge is a quick trip away from the noise, crowds, and traffic of the city to a place that is just outside of convenience.
I declared the first weekend in June a three-day weekend and drove the two and a half hours to the Ocean. Nothing seems to ease my mind like combination of the rolling waves, beachgrass, mist, solitude, and time. I had made this same trip exactly one month prior, but with slightly varied motivation and very minimal planning. The tree-lined Hwy 101 still greeted me, as if it had been patiently waiting for my return, knowing I couldn’t stay away for long.
After I arrived and as I waited for my room to be prepared, I drove to the beach that I had first seen in May. It was almost as if I were paying a visit to an old friend while passing through. Not much had changed, but it felt a little different; like a shirt that has been slightly worn and fits more comfortably on your skin.
I drove down the main road which ran parallel and closest to the shoreline, taking my time and looking at the row of buoy and beach-inspired homes on either side. As the stretch became more residential and remote, houses in the distance speckled the horizon, popping up from the ground like friendly coastal meerkats. I loved how peaceful and hushed everything was; there were very few people around and the sound of the ocean echoed in the tires on the concrete as I made my way to the beachfront condo.
I spent the rest of the evening enjoying the deck view, the fading sun, and working on the itinerary for my upcoming trip abroad this fall. I listened to the soundtrack of the beach: the rumbling tide, seabird duets, and wind through the reeds. My contribution to this symphony was my pencil sweeping paper, like a conductor with his baton.
I awoke the next morning and explored the jetty to the South which looks out at Westport. Overnight the clouds had come in as the tide had gone out, but the views were still just as captivating – possibly even more so with the moodiness of the clouds and the morning haze hanging in the air. I wandered off the main road and explored the winding backstreets almost in the hopes of getting lost (quite difficult to do on such a narrow stretch of peninsula).
With fresh lungs and slightly cramped pencil-clutched fingers, I was feeling accomplished with several new chicken-scratched writings in the works and the first leg of my September travels organized.
I kept thinking “How lucky am I that this is where half a tank of gas takes me.”
And it’s true. We are unbelievably lucky to live where we do and to have such peace and simple solitude so close to our fingertips, especially when a quick escape is something your inside craves.
I can’t wait for more sweet escapes like this over the summer.
Are there any special places you plan to go?