New Years Day

On the first of January we left Seattle enroute to the Oregon Coast. Thanks to a tip from Barry we stopped first at a strange little community called Ocean Shores. Here were short grassed small dunes dotted with huge homes. And a little way away was the Pacific Ocean and today it was, to use an American phrase, pissed. The wind was roaring and the waves were pounding. There was a large breakwater at the south of the community and here the Ocean was a sight. It was here too that there was an expected trifecta of rocky shore loving birds that were my target species.

They were, in light of the conditions and the length of rock wall habitat available to them, quite easy to find. They were Surfbird, Rock Sandpiper and Black Turnstone – the first two were lifers! It was great to see them and especially in such a surprising and dramatic place. Western Gulls were the prominent large gull flying around and this too was a life bird.

For me a further asset to this most un-Australian of beaches was the sight of a small flock of Sanderlings, their bright black legs moving rapidly to a blur, as they propelled themselves up and down the beach in rhythm with the waves rolling in.

My kids, being kids and my wife being, my wife tried to play the same game – running in and out from the waves – the aim of the game simply keep your feet dry. Sadly this game ended in a loss for the Cross family and for Matthew, in particular.

worst day EVER

previously - best day EVER'

On the poorly named Pacific coast the waves here have an unexpected pattern and there are signs, from Washington through Oregon and onwards into California, that warn of ‘sneakers’. Sneakers are sneaky. They are waves of unexpected size.

Now Megan was the first to be caught out by a moderately sneaky wave such that she got her sneakers wet. Sure it was funny. Millie soon followed her mum’s example. However Matthew was caught out in spectacular fashion; one minute he was joyfully running around like a dog off a leash, grinning like a cat proudly claiming that this was the best day EVER! The next a Sneaker struck and suddenly he found himself, his jeans and his snow boots, up to his waist in freezing salt water. I saw him, as I returned from taking bird pics, semi- naked and shivering by the car. He was aware enough to protest my taking photos of him and claimed that this was now the worst day EVER!

The ‘adventure at the beach over’ we continued down the coast to the coastal Oregon town of Astoria, or more precisely, the cleverly named village of Seaside which was a further few miles south. Already the scenery was spectacular as was the building of bridges which the varied coastline, dotted as it is with a variety of bays, inlets, rivers and estuaries, naturally encourages.