STAY WHERE YOU ARE NZ I’M COMING OVER ( EVENTUALLY )

It was a summer evening like any other at my local, beachbreak in Oregon. The holiday masses had long since deserted the beach for their homes, vacation rentals or a bite to eat at one of our four, humble restaurants. All that remained were the stragglers lighting campfires, roasting hot dogs, and cracking beers.

This is when I typically head to the beach. With about three hours to go before sundown, I suit up at the house, drive to the parking lot and run the half-mile trail through the old-growth forest until my bootie-clad toes hit the beach with enough time for a two-hour session before nightfall.

I never check the waves. I don’t care. I know it’s going to be small. It’s summer in Oregon. It’s always small. Plus, just being at this place is special. Both ends of the cove are flanked with jagged, raw, rock cliffs and lined with evergreens: fir, pine, and spruce. On the north end of the beach, there is a waterfall that