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Paths Crossed in Gold Beach

Paths Crossed in Gold Beach

I found my way to the house in Gold Beach and pulled in right after John. I saw that old red 4-wheel drive with the platform bed inside and felt so excited that I had the opportunity to see one of my friends from the road again. In Vegas (Viva Las Vegas post) we discussed the possibility of our paths crossing at some point, but by this time I had began to doubt that it was going to happen.

Bless the good folks that let us crash at their houses. We were one in the same. Two sun-tanned road bums show up with loaded down hatchbacks, long hair that we trim ourselves, in dirty clothes, with dirty bodies… having not washed in days. Both not entirely sure when we are going to leave. Both happy to sleep on the floor or in the car.

When unpacking I found a cell phone left by My HitchersI worried even more about them, out there without a phone… but I didn’t have an address to mail it and the phone was locked. There was no number to call. I had to just give up on the phone.

Oregon was quiet and rainy, just like I expected it to be. It rained hard sometimes, but most of the time it was just misty.  John and I mostly saw this stop as a place for some R&R. He was recovering his muscles from long days climbing at Smith Rock and I was looking to stretch my legs and get some work done as I had been a road warrior for the past few days. Around the house we split groceries and John cooked. We hung out with Jessica the girl hosting us and watched t.v. I made fun of John’s “Sonic the Hedgehog” hair and he my “rug cleaner” dry shampoo.

We hiked around on some paths in the area. The tall trees and moss of the rain forests loomed above us with the soft sounds of dripping rain. We didn’t talk very much. We didn’t need to. The trees made way to tall grass and flowers to swipe out of way. In Oregon, you have two different hikes – to the ocean or to the ocean view. For the view, you stepped out of the tall grass to a breathtaking view of the waves crushing on the rocks far down below the cliff you are standing on. The cliff didn’t look secure enough to climb down either according to the “expert” with me. There’s no getting down unless nature makes a way.

After hiking the trails to the ocean, we’d lie there face-up on the sand side by side in rolled up jeans and striped hoodies. I’d jump my feet in and out of the cold water and pick my favorite pebbles and pieces of drift wood. John would look at the boulders on the beach and tell me what type of stone was in them.

Eventually the weather cleared up and John had rested up. He decided it was time to head on back to Smith Rock. I asked about joining him there, but for me it was too far out-of-the-way. I warned him, but I didn’t need to say anything. We both live the nomad life, we already understand. We packed up and headed off at the same time, just as we came in.

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