Into the Peace of Wild Things

First camping trip of the year?  Check.  Last Friday we headed southwest to the coast in search of high winds (so Jason could kite board) and sunny weather.  Turns out Seattle was unseasonably hot last weekend so we picked a good weekend to get away.  We ended up in Westport at Twin Harbors campground.  The campground itself was more crowded than we usually prefer but it was quiet and there was a trail to the beach right from our camp site.

It was our first time seeing the Pacific Ocean from the state of Washington.  We’ve been here for 10 years but we’ve never made it out to the coast.  Turns out the Pacific looks pretty good up north!  Cold though!

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Hittin’ the road! Now that we have the addition of J’s kite boarding gear, the car is packed even tighter – if that is possible.
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Walking out to the beach right after we arrived at Twin Harbors.
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Not too shabby
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The trail to the beach was just behind our tent
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Jason and the boys getting ready to climb to the top of the tallest lighthouse in the state.  Acrophobia kept me on terra firma where I loafed in the grass and looked up local real estate and dreamed of owning a vacation house by the sea.
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This flag outside the Westport Maritime Museum is the biggest I’ve ever seen.
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This is where we found Gryffin after getting back to our campground on Saturday evening. Reading his book and warming himself on the hood of the car.
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Must have been a cat in a former life.
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Beach baseball
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Walking back to the campground on our last morning

Jason and I memorized this poem by Wendell Berry on a camping trip 8 years ago when I was pregnant with Gryffin.  We don’t have a “song” but we have a poem, apparently.  This is our poem.  And it came to mind several times over the weekend.   Our fifteenth anniversary is tomorrow and it was good to be out in the peace of wild things to kick off the week.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Other Camping Posts

How the Rusts Ended Up at McDonald’s
Say No by Saying Yes
No Rain, No Gain