Reading the title about taking a slow day on the Oregon coast could be interpreted that the overcast sky contributed to a sense of kicking back, but that’s hardly what happened. Maybe we needed time to recuperate after the long drive, getting things in order, or all the shopping? Nope, none of that. The reference to slow is more a reflection of the dearth of photos, though how 17 images imply that could be misleading. At first glance, what can’t be easily gleaned is that there are only three significant events shown in today’s post.

The day began the way all of our days on the coast will, with a walk. This one is just a couple of miles north of us at Boiler Bay.

Tracing along the cliffside and squeezed by Highway 101, we caught up with the Oregon Coast Trail, which runs about 425 miles up and down the western shore of Oregon. Today, we’ll be walking a tiny fraction of that.

There’s a need for me to hurry up and write as that is the real cause of this day only capturing three events: this hike, lunch, and an evening walk after Caroline finished up work for the day. Instead of nothing but focusing on catching up with these things, we still need to get out on a daily basis to experience and record stuff that reminds us of this fortunate time in our lives. Of course, that creates the situation where I have more and more to prep and write about instead of selfishly getting out during the day when Caroline is working and returning to writing this big project I’m supposed to be tackling.

Meanwhile, we stopped to admire the foxglove flowers and the unripe berries we could only wish to sample at this time.

While we see many a mushroom during our other visits, this opportunity to witness the abundance of wildflowers is not lost on us.

It started to drizzle a light rain on us, but within a minute, it had already passed.

And with this, we concluded our coastal forest walk. Back at the house, Caroline got to work promptly at 8:00 while I prepared breakfast, followed by my sitting down to blogging.

Finishing the post for Saturday was all I did until it was time to prepare our lunch. This midday meal was special as it included the tamales we bought at La Norteña Tamale Factory in Pecos, Texas, when we were traveling through around the time of the full solar eclipse back in April. As for the slaw, it was a Mexican-inspired salad of cabbage, white onion, oregano, garlic powder, olive oil, and fresh lime juice.

At the end of Caroline’s work day (which coincided with me finishing Sunday’s blog post), I knocked out a quick dinner of salad greens, nopales (cactus paddles), jicama (not well known in Germany, but called “Mexikanische Erdbirne”), epazote, grilled cecina (a thinly sliced Mexican cut of beef), and a dressing of roasted serrano chili, fresh garlic, olive oil, and fresh lime juice. Anxious to get out for a walk, we headed up the coast to the Salishan Spit Trail.

Walking north up the shore, we spotted this cormorant who seemed intent on ignoring us, as it was reluctant to move. It could only mean that the bird was injured, sick, or not of this world for much longer. This was the first time we were able to see firsthand the turquoise to teal-colored eyes of this seabird. Our walk north wouldn’t get much further as erosion and attempts to reinforce the cliffside have created a situation where the surf is crashing into the newly placed boulders with a tide still too high for us to go on, so we turned around. Down south, we happened upon a rotting carcass of a seal that is only being mentioned because of its strange state. Just as one would expect, the scavenging of the seal’s remains is well at work, but with bright red blood still liquid in its body cavity, the skull was not only exposed; it was as white as could be, and it was picked absolutely clean. Not only that, the skull was broken in two, with us finding the other part further down the shore. We know it belonged because Caroline picked up this stinking nose and mouth section and matched it up with the skull sticking out of the seal’s skin. Our summation is that whatever was eating this marine mammal knew that the brains were a good source of something it required. Maybe this here cormorant was over there snacking on the stinky seal brain and is now transitioning into an avian marine zombie?

Speaking of avian marine zombies, here’s my bird flying her kite, just staring at it in the sky as though she was looking at brains.

Do you recognize the kite? It’s the return of Happy McKiteface, which we bought in November 2022 from The Kite Company in Newport, Oregon.

While looking for beach treasures, Caroline also focuses on the shore, keeping an eye out for trash. It never fails that she collects a judicious amount of plastic and aluminum waste. Adding to the treasure column today was this rubber ducky, which will leave its home at sea and be transplanted back to the Arizona desert.

Check us out; we’re trying to be smart by leaving the beach early, as in 8:15. The thinking goes: we’ll have time to do the dishes, prep some photos, Caroline can finish editing Saturday’s post, and we’ll get to sleep early – if only.

Have I ever shared my obsession with coastal grasses and the beauty they hold for me?

Getting closer to the car, I noticed just how far the tide had already gone out, as evidenced by the mud flat being exposed here on the Siletz Bay side of the spit we had been walking on, seen here in the background. We got back to the house, and Caroline indeed finished Saturday’s post while I nearly finished these here photos. It’s Wednesday morning, well before lunch, as I’m finishing writing this post.