Newport

Judy's view when she lived in Newport

     Our time in Newport was a vacation rather than a trip. For five days I didn't make a list or refer to a list.  I had left the charger for my computer at home, so I couldn't clean up photos or study mattress reviews or check the finances.  Since I couldn't do those tasks, they had no place in my mind.

Honoring whales

   I would wake up, have coffee overlooking the ocean, and then walk Mutt Leigh.  Newport has created a great series of walkways curving gently down to the beach,with plenty of benches built in.  People of all ages and abilities can enjoy the view without clambering down and up.  The most agile young boys climb on the whale bones that the Siletz tribes have installed as a tribute to the resident leviathans.
   The hotel provided a substantial breakfast, so I would eat heartily and then bring a tray down for Judy.  For the first few

Mutt Leigh on the beach path

days we made short excursions onto the bay front.  We found a place where Judy could drink her latte overlooking the working of this  active fishing village.  We missed the loud barking of the sea lions who pile onto the docks.  They are gone until August, seeking harems. The combined weight of these bachelors had made the dock collapse, and the merchants got together to replace it.  They want to keep the sea lions as a tourist attraction, while the fishermen want the big scavengers gone. Newport's one bayfront street has limited space.  A working fishing harbor and fish processing center crammed in with  a tourist town creates friction.
   Judy lived in Newport in the 1990s.We ate dinner at the lounge where she had studied for her national Occupational Health nursing boards, competing with the fishermen for the happy hour appetizers. The men cheered and bought her a drink when she passed.  This time it was a  bittersweet farewell visit to the marina where she had docked her boat, and a last long gaze at the harbor and bridge that had been her view when I first met her.

Judy at the marina

Judy keeps an eye on the ocean

   Most of the time Judy rested and looked at the ocean right beyond our balcony. Some afternoons the heat in the Willamette Valley pulled a thick fog bank inland at the coast, so Judy listened to the ocean she couldn't see. She could hear the fog horn; I could not.
    In the afternoons Mutt Leigh and I would walk again, and then I would hunt and gather for our lunch and dinner.  I often walked to nearby restaurants for takeout; sometime I drove a mile or so to the grocery store or the farmer's market.  I did not drive much. The highlight of the evenings came at eight o'clock when I went down to the lobby and brought fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies back for Judy and me. I read and did jigsaw puzzles while Judy slept.
  At night Mutt Leigh and I walked again around the curve of the city park overlooking the beach. The road curves almost 90 degrees there.  One night after dark a big pickup truck drove around the bend facing us, and its lights

Place of courteous drivers

Backyard blooms

shone right into my eyes.  The driver turned off his lights and rounded the bend with only his parking lights, then turned the headlights on again when he had passed me.  "Must be a local," said Judy.
    We are back home now, and all of our plants have survived the heat.  The hydrangeas are in bloom.