It's Our Secret
by Sally Kosmalski
Just then a little boy, about 6 or 7, pushed his face between the seat backs in front of us and smiled at my Mother. He had blond hair and I'm sure he reminded her of Tom when he was that age: all smiles and very inquisitive. He looked thoughtful for a minute and then said to her, "My name is Jerry. I'm going on vacation, are you going on vacation too?"
She told him, yes — we were going to visit her Grandson Tom, who looked very much like him. He smiled again and said, "We're going to see Nana and Gramps and they are taking me to the Portland Zoo to see all the animals. Gramps said he is going to take me to see the frogs. He said there are lots of different kinds, even ones that have wide yellow and black stripes. Momma showed me pictures on the computer and some of the frogs are really big and some are really tiny. Some even have green bumps all over them. There are lots of animals at the zoo, but I just want to see the frogs."
Jerry's mom tapped him on the shoulder then and said, "It's time to turn around now, Jerry. They're bringing lunch and the Flight Attendant is going to give you a pair of Captain's Wings to wear on your shirt. Tell the ladies goodbye." He smiled again then turned around like his mother had told him to do.
It was early fall and Mother and I were going on a vacation to visit Tom, and his wife Ruth, who lived in Portland, Oregon. We would be visiting some of the waterfalls in the area and of course we would go to see the Rose Garden, which Portland is noted for. We knew it would be very beautiful, and very fragrant, but two of the days Mother and I would take Tom's van and head to the Pacific Ocean. I am addicted to the ocean and as I get older the addiction just gets worse, and worse, and worse!
Back on land, in my car, approaching the turn onto Highway 101, we turned south. Then we turned west into Ecola State Park and followed the signs to Indian Beach. The parking lot was located high on a ridge, seeming to jut out into space, and the view of the ocean was breathtaking. There was only a slight breeze so the waves were very small and relaxed looking. There was a blacktop path partway down to the beach, but there were rather large and small rocks in between the path and the beach. It was too risky for Mother to climb over, so we just sat on a couple of boulders and looked at the view and watched the people as they wandered back and forth on the beach, and in and out of the water, even though the northern Pacific water is very cold.
I had visited Indian Beach previously and after climbing over the rocks I had made it to the sandy beach area. Walking up and down I had looked for seashells and found a few little ones, but I also found two sand dollars, which made my day. Before the sun had begun its quick decline over the far edge of the ocean I began my climb back up to my car and then the two hour drive back to Portland. I was delighted to have spent such a beautiful, sunshiny day along the pine tree lined roadways of Ecola State Park and such beautiful scenery along Highway 101. It had been my first time to see the Pacific Ocean in thirty years.
Indian Beach is south of Tillamook Head, which is an extremely tall headland that borders the Pacific Ocean. It is the remnant of a massive, 15-million-year-old Columbia River basalt flow. The lava had welled up near Idaho then flooded down the Columbia River Gorge and spreading along the seashore to Cannon Beach.
Ecola State Park, and all of the Oregon Coastline, lie within the Sitka Spruce Zone. It is one of the most productive vegetative areas in North America with the temperatures ranging between 30-75 degrees year round. In this favorable growing condition the Sitka Spruce, Western Hemlock, Douglas Fir, Western Red Cedar and Red Alder trees thrive abundantly.
Just a few miles south of the Columbia River and about 3-1/1 miles east of the Pacific Ocean Lewis and Clark had built the Clatsop Fort, which consisted of a long stockade and seven huts. Lewis named a small creek nearby the Ecola Creek, which is the Chinook word for whale (ekkoli). Clark stated that the mountain and hills in the Park were the steepest, worst and highest mountain he had ever ascended. He obviously had never been in the Rocky Mountain Range.
Leaving Ecola Park Mother and I headed south along the famous Highway One, on our way to Canon Beach. The drive was spectacular, with towering trees on our left and the Pacific Ocean on our right. The highway followed a high ridge and the view of the ocean, Cannon Beach and tall trees took our breath away. The drive down from the precipice of the Headland was indeed exhilarating as well as beautiful. I took several pictures of the view, plus some with mother and the ocean in the background.
By the time we arrived the wind had picked up just a little, but not too much to be comfortable on the beach, which looked like a relaxing, yet stimulating, place to stay for awhile. Mother was having problems with a painful ankle so we brought a couple of chairs from the van and just relaxed for a couple of hours, watching the people come and go. I thought it a good idea to wade out to Haystack Rock, and even though I did make it most of the way the water was so frigid that it drove me back to the sandy beach, my chair and a towel for a brisk rub to get the circulation in my feet going again.
Suddenly Mother grabbed my arm, pointed to the sky and said, "Look down at the far end of the beach. There are two boys flying kites. Look at how colorful their kites are. One is orange, red and yellow, while the other is blue, green and purple and they both have very, very long tails. The wind is just perfect today to be flying kites. I remember when you and Joey would go out in the vacant lot across the alley and fly your kites. You both had made long red and orange tails and they stayed up a very long time. It sure takes me back a lot of years watching those two little boys having so much fun." I just smiled at her and nodded.
Mother also kept commenting about how many families with children were roaming the beach. Some were sunning themselves; some were just relaxing and some were eating ice cream cones. That made me hungry, so I told Mother that I'd be back in a few minutes with some ice cream cones for us. Then she just smiled at me and nodded.
There were also trails leading from both the north and south ends of the beach and groups of hikers came and went as though they were just cloud puffs in a light breeze. Around 6PM Mother said, "I'm ready for something to eat and a nice relaxing bed." We had spent a wonderful day, so we headed south, tired from all that fresh air and eager to arrive at our motel for some supper and shut-eye.
Our alarm clock woke us the next morning at 8 a.m., but we needn't have set it. Our room faced east and the sun was streaming in through the windows, nudging us to get ready for the day. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly and reflecting off the ocean waves as they came lolling their way to the shore and over the white sand. We took a deep breath, enjoying every moment of our time together, then got dressed, packed up, went and had some breakfast and headed back north.
We had driven for about thirty minutes when I said, "Mother, did you see that sign we just passed? It said something about scenic airplane rides, so I'm turning around to check it out." She just smiled and said, "I'll wait in the car, but you go and enjoy yourself. You always have been my adventurous child."
The two-seater plane was waiting on the tarmac for me. I climbed up into the front right seat, feeling the excitement bubbling up inside of me. My heart was beating harder and doing a little jig in anticipation. While fastening my seat belt the pilot started the left engine, which was extremely loud.
When he started the left engine, and both propellers began turning, the noise became deafening. I couldn't hear anything else, so he gave me headphones with a mouthpiece so we could talk to each other during the flight. The plane began to shake as we taxied down the runway, and the faster it went the louder it got and the more it shook. I wasn't sure if this had been a good idea, but it was too late now. So, I settled back, expecting to enjoy the ride.
Suddenly we were air born and beginning our gradual ascent into the azure sky. Rising above the tree line the peacock blue of the Pacific Ocean, with it's sandy shore- line, came into magical view. It was breathtaking. The waves were rolling up over the silvery sand and cresting in small foamy whitecaps with only a few scattered cottony white clouds high above. It was a mystical sight.
We flew south along the coastline with the sun dancing on the water, looking shimmering and ethereal. The pilot would frequently bank the plane, making it possible for me to take some amazing photos of the beauty spread out below. After twenty minutes we turned north to follow the coastline as it staggered in and out of the land. Roads, and two rivers, snaked back and forth, with trees standing like sentinels along their sides. There were even a couple of small towns that didn't look very small because we weren't flying very high up. I loved it all, and didn't want it to end.
Climbing higher we could see over Oregon's forest pines and the haze that covered the distant hills in the summer's heat. At one point the pilot climbed even higher and then suddenly he stalled the engine, just for a few seconds. I hadn't expected that and my stomach did a few flip-flops when the plane suddenly dropped a bit. It did make the ride more thrilling though. Then the pilot said, "Do you want me to climb up higher so I can do a couple of short nose-dives? I quickly said, "No, I think the stalling engine was exciting enough."
We flew north for another half hour and then began the descent back to the small airport, where he landed the plane quite smoothly on the pine tree lined tarmac. I exited the plane with a big smile covering my face and waved to my Mother, who was waiting patiently by our car.
The next day we flew back home, just looking at each other and smiling. We had a special secret.