Salty Ocean Air and Adventure Gremlins 🌊🐕🐕

It's somehow been almost three weeks since my last update. Apparently "I'll post again when something interesting happens" is a dangerous promise to make when you're also terrible at remembering to post.

Last time, I ended by hoping my next update would include some salty ocean air, fewer appointments, and maybe even a properly recovered knee. I'm happy to report that I actually managed all three... more or less.

The MRI on my knee finally came back, and thankfully there was no major ligament damage. What I do have is a very small fracture, which at this point mostly just needs time to heal. I'm basically back to normal activities, with the slightly inconvenient exceptions of impact activities and steep inclines or declines.

This has made choosing new hiking trails a little interesting. I know myself well enough to know that if I encounter an unexpected creek crossing or steep section three miles into a hike, there's an excellent chance I'll decide, "I'll just go slowly. It'll be fine."

It probably *would* be fine.

It also might turn a small fracture into a much longer healing process.

So, in an unusual display of good judgment, I've mostly been sticking to trails I already know.

Thankfully, the endless appointments and paperwork also seem to be slowing down. There are still plenty of loose ends to tie up, but life is feeling considerably less like one long series of waiting rooms.

And speaking of paperwork, the substitute-teaching process I mentioned in my last update is officially complete! I've received all my final approvals, I'm set up in the system, and now I'm just waiting for the school year to begin so assignments can start rolling in. After licensing, background checks, fingerprints, trainings, and all the other bureaucratic hoops involved in proving I'm safe to unleash upon Oregon's children, it's nice to finally reach the part where I can actually do the job.

I've also been making more of an effort to meet people and start building a community here. Recently I met someone for lunch at a really cool food cart pod near where I'm staying. Portland has these permanent collections of food trucks with an impressive variety of food, and this particular one even has an indoor café area where you can escape the weather and eat. I used the opportunity to try two things for the first time.

Poke bowl: **excellent.** I am officially a fan.

Boba tea: **less excellent.**

I've always maintained that beverages should not require chewing, so really, I should have seen that one coming.

I also celebrated my 39th birthday this month. I didn't do anything elaborate, but I figured I should at least do something for myself and went out dancing.

I'd also recently learned about a local community country and line-dancing group through someone I met while volunteering with Portland's Healing House, so I went to check out one of their events.

It looked like a blast. Unfortunately, approximately the entire population of Portland appeared to have reached the same conclusion.

The dance floor was packed so tightly that I couldn't actually see the instructor. Mostly I could see a few people in front of me bumbling around while presumably also trying to figure out what the invisible instructor was doing.

Eventually I managed to catch a glimpse of the actual dance and had another important realization: Oh. My knee can't do that.

There was considerably more jumping and twisting involved than my tiny fracture and I had previously discussed.

So I spent more time watching than dancing, still had a good time, and eventually escaped when the crowd became a bit much. They also hold events at a larger community center that's apparently less crowded, so I definitely want to try again once my knee is ready for jumping, twisting, and stomping without filing a formal complaint.

There has also been an expansion of the household.

On Monday I drove my neighbor Jesse to the airport so he could join his wife and the homeowner I've been housesitting for during the final half of their three months away. In exchange, I inherited custody of their dog, Ragnar. So I am now responsible for two dogs.

Fortunately, Ragnar and Altan are already best buddies, they're trained almost identically, and they're both wonderful dogs. In practice, having two hasn't been much harder than having one.

Which brings us, finally, to the salty ocean air I promised last time.

Yesterday I packed up both dogs and made the two-hour drive out to the Oregon coast for my first proper day of exploring it.

Even the drive out gave me something new to see. Along the road I suddenly spotted a herd of very large animals hanging out near the shoulder. My immediate thought was

**Moose!**

This was based on the highly scientific identification method of "larger and thicker than a deer." As it turns out, they were elk.

I've seen moose before, so apparently my brain has established exactly two categories for deer-shaped wildlife: deer and moose. I can now proudly add a third.

I was considerably less excited about how close they were to the road. Considering my last close encounter with a large hoofed animal ended with a dead deer and several thousand dollars of damage to my van, seeing an entire herd of animals that looked significantly bigger and sturdier than the one I hit mostly left me wondering why the bloody hell they were all hanging out right next to traffic.

Portland was reasonably pleasant when I left. The coast had other ideas. Apparently I temporarily forgot that I've previously been warned that the coast can easily be 20 degrees cooler than Portland. I arrived in shorts and a T-shirt to discover temperatures in the mid-60s, wind, mist, intermittent rain, and enough ocean spray to ensure that everything stayed just slightly damp.

A jacket would have been useful... I own jackets. I did not bring one. Unfortunately this would not be my only instance of being woefully unprepared that day.

The Oregon coast itself also seems determined to make sure nobody gets *too* relaxed.

Most of my previous beach experience has involved leisurely walks along the Mediterranean in Turkey. The Oregon coast greets you with signs warning about tsunamis, rip currents, rogue waves, frigid water, and various other advisories against the Pacific Ocean. It's beautiful. It just apparently comes with terms and conditions.

Dogs are allowed off leash on much of the beach as long as they're under voice control, and both of these guys are experienced little adventure gremlins. They also have remote collars that we use for commands while they're exploring.

I remembered the collars... I forgot the remotes.

Altan didn't particularly care. He's wonderfully codependent and tends to run around exploring for a while, come back to check on me, walk beside me, and then launch himself toward whatever interesting thing he discovers next.

Ragnar is more of a rugged individualist.
His preferred method of exploration is apparently to travel far enough away that calling for him becomes purely ceremonial.

This became a problem when he discovered the corpse of a puffin and decided it deserved a much more thorough investigation than I did.

Between the wind and the distance, he couldn't hear me calling him, so I started hurrying toward him. Unfortunately, the shortest route between me and Ragnar involved a tide pool.

There was no time for removing shoes and socks.

And that is how I acquired two extremely soggy feet while attempting to prevent a dog from making questionable dietary choices.

Fortunately, I was wearing my barefoot hiking shoes, which don't hold much water. I eventually took them off entirely and spent roughly the next five miles exploring the beach barefoot.

Despite the cold, wet feet and occasional failures in planning, the coast was absolutely worth the wait. I walked about six miles altogether and finally got to see Haystack Rock and Lion Rock in person.

There was one more beach I'd been especially excited to visit, but unfortunately it was closed. Reaching some of the other places I'd been recommended would also have meant considerably more walking, and by that point I was cold, wet, barefoot, and had already covered about six miles.

So I made another rare appearance of good judgment and called it a day.The Oregon coast isn't going anywhere. And now I have an excellent excuse to go back.

So, almost three weeks later: fewer appointments, a mostly recovered knee, final approval to start substitute teaching, some new people and places, another dog, my first poke bowl, an ill-advised boba tea, a newly acquired ability to identify elk, and finally plenty of salty ocean air.Read more