Yesterday I wrote about our stay over the last three days at Salishan Spa and Golf Resort on the central Oregon coast. The resort offers a wide range of activities for kids and adults alike, from golf to shopping to spa treatments. Its location also makes it a great base for just getting out and enjoying the natural land- and seascapes in which it is set. The 18-hole golf course has been designated a Certified Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary, a sign that maintaining and improving the natural habitat is important to the resort’s owners. On my first afternoon, a rare sunny January day, I decided to follow one of many nature trails to the beach. Once I had crossed the coast highway, I followed a path which runs between the fairways and Siletz Bay, a shallow body of water that becomes mostly mudflats at low tide. It is separated from the Pacific Ocean by a narrow, sandy spit of land on which a number of vacation homes have been built. As I passed under coast pines, I observed all kinds of birds floating and feeding on the water. Further along, I glanced up and spied a bald eagle, easily identified by his white tail feathers and head, floating on the air currents over the bay. Approaching the crest of the dunes above the beach, I realized that the sound of the traffic back on the highway had been drowned out by the boom of the surf just ahead. I doubt there will ever come a time when the sounds and sight of the ocean will fail to soothe and entrance me. This day was no different, and I walked a mile or more up the beach watching the waves rolling in and pounding the sand, creeping up and then sliding back. Heaps of foam left behind shuddered Jello-like in the light wind, some breaking free and gliding along like parade floats over the surf-smoothed sand. For a while I just sat on a piece of driftwood, drinking in the sunshine and solitude. Although the surf and wind provide a constant soundtrack, there is a special kind of peace here where no human-produced sound intrudes. These days when we can turn on a radio or T.V. or plug in our iPods any time or place, it seems moments of natural quiet are all too rare. Eventually I turned back, rejuvenated by that time by the sea when I could think about anything or nothing at all without the distractions of the outside world demanding attention. The next day again dawned clear and bright, and I chose to follow a different trail through a ravine which divided the fairways of the front nine. The path dropped steeply down toward a creek at the bottom, and I had to step carefully over mossy tree roots and boggy patches. Although here I never completely lost the sound of traffic on nearby roads, it was easy enough to focus on the sounds of falling water and birds in the canopy overhead. Most of this area had probably been logged over at least twice in the last century or so, but here and there amongst the ferns, salal and younger trees (only 50 years old or so) were a few old-growth giants. At one point the path wound up and around the roots of an enormous hemlock whose trunk measured at least 15 feet in circumference. Eventually the trail led to a bridge across a pond adjoining the driving range, and I dropped back into the modern world once more. Just as I stepped off the bridge, however, there was one more reminder of how closely intertwined nature and this luxury resort are: less than 10 feet away from me stood a great blue heron. He swept me with an unconcerned glance and then regally lifted off in seeming slow motion, that long, long body carried across the water on his immense wingspan until he disappeared in the brush on the far side. As I return to my “real” life, I’ll take these sounds, images and memories with me. They will provide a moment of calm reflection in a hectic day and a reminder to seek out such pools of peace even in the middle of a noisy city. Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader