Weekend at Neskowin
This weekend, I spent the weekend with J. in Neskowin. This small coastal town is located where Slab Creek empties into the Pacific ocean, about two hours east of Salem. It’s population is a bustling 169, most of which work in the bed and breakfast industry. We stayed in a three story beach house designed by the architecture firm where she works. The building was designed as a company retreat rather than a house, so the layout is a little weird. The ground floor is a master bedroom, split bath and creepy under-the-house storage room. Ascending an outdoor staircase, you reach the main entrance. The hall contains two sky-lighted, built in sleeping couches with identical bed and bathrooms branching off. The top floor is an open space with a den, dining area and full kitchen. It is surrounded by tall windows and wide balconies, affording high-priced views of the ocean or neighboring houses depending on which way you face. Everything is paneled in yellowish wood. The tap water tasted like fish.
Saturday, V., J.K., and M. came and spent the night. A Thai meal was made for dinner, many board games were played (including a sex-based team game of Pictionary where the team of three guys was slaughtered, twice), omelets were made for breakfast before a drizzly adventure on the beach, and more. The group left Sunday afternoon, leaving us original hosts a day and a half of extra leisure.
The view from the topmost floor.
Thai dinner of larb and ginger chicken. Poker game in the background.
Everyone enjoying a balanced game of Pictionary.
Connect Four stare-down.
J. working on jigsaw puzzle. Note: it was finished Monday.
The overcast beach on Sunday.
Seagull that pooped on the deck.
The trail from the house down to the beach.
The rock steps at the end of the train from the house down to the beach.
Beach grass swaying in the breeze.
Me with the mythical “Dill Island” in the background.
J. in 3d anaglyph with “Dill Island” in the background.
“Dill Island” in all its glory. It was treacherous to even get to its shore, but three of us did. Had the rocks not been as slippery, and had the dirt not been as wet, I could have penetrated farther. I know that somewhere up there is a clearing in the trees in which grows the most pungent dill in the world. To even gaze upon this herb is to lose yourself in the flavor forever. I will find this dill. It consumes me.