THROWBACK BEACH RUN TO SEASIDE

Growing up in a coastal town took the drama out of any beach run.

North Bend was surrounded by Coos Bay with a high tide creeping on Virginia Avenue and sometimes giving 101 a good rinse.

With beaches to the north, south, and west, it was easy to find the right one.

Going to the beach wasn’t so much a plan as it was a possible destination a half hour away from town.

Then we grew up and things got more complicated.

If you’ve never been to the beach, which is hard to fathom in a state with a shoreline, you’ll find sand and water.

That’s the bottom line, sand and water. You go to the beach for the sand and water.

Kids love the sand and water, parents love the sand and water. Grandparents?

At some point a beach run takes on a new identity.

Instead of driving over in the morning, and back in the evening, the old folks want something more.

More comfort, a slower pace, and shopping to go along with restaurant reservations.

Instead of a run to the beach it turns into a long vacation weekend. Or week.

Did we stay the weekend? The week? Noooo.

 

The Right Beach

We pulled into Seaside from Portland in a two car caravan.

The third car was already there and we all tried to sync up.

Two of us parked in what we thought was public parking, but it was a two story hotel lot, one half underground the other half on top.

There were spaces available, also tow warnings, and not the under-tow.

We waited while the ladies walked over to the sandwich shop and came back with some beauties.

The food from the Tsunami Sandwich Shop was worth the trip if we turned around and went home right there.

Instead, we found the real public parking lot maxed out with no one leaving.

My first thought? We’d park a ways away and drag our gear a half mile to the beach.

Not a very attractive alternative, but we could do it. Wouldn’t want to do it, but our three man, three woman, three kid crew could handle it.

I’ve been to beaches in Hawaii, Oregon, California, Washington, Delaware, New Jersey, and Long Island.

Not all beaches are equal, and this day Seaside started feeling crowded.

So we joined the crowd? Noooo.

My wife and I followed the trail blazers with their GPS map guiding them.

I measured each possible parking place according to blocks from the beach: too far, and way too far.

Either way I was mentally prepared and physically ready to lug and drag whatever we needed across the sand for the rest of the day.

We headed north from downtown and turned left into what had to be a mirage: a half-full parking lot with huge spaces.

From jam packed parking to leisure parking seemed unlikely.

Parking lot, bathroom, and beach all in one place?

Now the task was loading up and dragging everything in three or four trips back and forth.

 

But Wait, What’s This On 12th Avenue

The 12th Avenue beach entrance offers a public parking lot and restrooms with handy ramps, and is close to a range of fun things to do on the north side of Seaside.

Note that the Mobi-Mats are extended or contracted based on ocean and tide conditions, so visitors should expect the lengths to vary throughout the year.

 

Highway to breaking surf? Oh yeah.

Things were looking up, the sun broke out, and the beach called.

 

How To Call The Beach With Three Families

Speaking for grandparents.

Grandad: We’ve had wonderful beach trips, and we’ll have more, but today we share the wonder. It might be cold, it might rain, but it won’t matter.

Instead of looking at the ocean from a luxury balcony, or from the edge of an endless hot tub, we get the sand, we get the surf, we get the wind. And we’ll make it the best cold, wet, sandy, windy day ever.

Grandma: Who are you talking to?

Grandad: I was just remembering the weather in North Bend on a good day.

Grandma: We’re not going to Coos Bay.

Grandad: Good one. Everything is set?

Grandma: It’s been set for the last three months. It’s called planning. If you don’t plan, nothing gets . . .

Grandad: Done. Nothing gets done without a plan, and the part I like is the flexibility.

Grandma: I don’t want to be late.

Grandad: Late for, right, me neither, and we want to be helpful if it looks like help is needed. Not too helpful like trying to take over.

Grandma: Take over what?

Grandad: Like when to stop, where to go, the usual.

Grandma: I won’t have to with apple car play.

Grandad: The kids have the directions. Can you believe we’re all here?

Grandma: And only seventeen minutes later than I predicted.

Grandad: You made a prediction and didn’t tell anyone? That’s not how it works.

Grandma: I made a prediction and didn’t tell you. That’s how it works.

 

PS: 

When you bring your best-self to the beach it only gets better.

PSS:

Foster the feeling of a cramped, crowded, beach turning into expansive beauty.

I went to Rehoboth Beach in Delaware which had private beaches.

I was there with a group who owned their beach, had a lifeguard, and a line between them and the public beach.

One side was scarcely populated, the other side shoulder to shoulder, blanket to blanket, like the crowds at the Portland Blues Festival.

 Is 12th Street beach in Seaside a private beach? Nooo, but it makes you feel special after the downtown crowd.

If this seems like a small thing, it’s not. Organizing a day-trip with two sets of parents with young kids? How did it turned out for you when you tried?

All it takes is collective willpower.