Decision Made

A man walked by our motel room this morning, hands in his pockets, rain pelting down on his wet hair. "They just seem to ignore it like it doesn't bother them," said Andy.

I knew he meant the weather. But for Oregonians, what else are they going to do? It rains all winter. No one carries an umbrella or wears a poncho. But I guess the wind precludes the usefulness of such foul weather necessities.

We headed out to Cape Sebastian Overlook. Through the fog we could almost see the grey ocean. I closed my eyes and pretended it wasn't raining.

"This is one of the nicest parts of the coast, and it looks like we'll have rain all day," moaned Andy.

Unfortunately, I had to agree. "Today I need my plastic bag," I told Andy. I pulled the shopping bag out of the camera case and poked the camera lens through the small hole I had worked in the bottom of the bag. "This should do it," I told him. "It's a trick I learned at yearbook photography camp to shoot digital in the rain."

"What gets me," he said, looking out the driver side window at the steady downpour, "is that there are guys outside cutting down lumber in all of this."

We sat at the overlook, and the rain came down harder.

"No, we can't even see the coast," I complained.

"Well, we are getting closer to November 1, and that is the true beginning of the winter rainy season," he said.

We drove as far as Brookings with stops at probably ten overlooks and waysides. Sometimes we sat looking out to sea; other times we read silently for a few minutes. All the time we watched the sky for a break. After coffee at McDonalds, Andy said, "Let's find a place to stay for the rest of today. We'll do laundry and bunk for the night with the hope it clears tomorrow or just stops raining. I'll even be happy with grey skies! If it clears, we'll head to Crescent City; if it doesn't, we'll go inland to Reno."

Decision made.