The Day the Sea Found Me

 

 

 The Day the Sea Found Me

I didn't see the ocean until I was nineteen years old, and let me tell you, it was love at first sight.

We had driven up to Astoria, to Fort Stevens, and eventually made our way to a parking lot in Warrenton. I remember walking away from the car, crushing my way up and over a sandy hill, completely unaware of what was waiting for me on the other side. And then... the earth just opened up. The vast, endless waters of the Pacific stretched out to the horizon, and right there in the surf stood the skeletal, rusted bones of the Peter Iredale shipwreck.

The sheer magnitude of it hit me so hard that the relief literally fell me to my knees. I had never seen anything so massive, so beautiful, in my entire life. Something inside me just clicked. What made it even more surreal was knowing that a photograph existed of my mother at that exact same spot, taken when she was around that same age, back when the shipwreck still had a definite upper deck before the decades of tide wore it away. It felt like stepping into a piece of my own family history, a sacred welcome from the sea.

After taking in the ghost of that ship, we got back into the car and drove down the coast to Cannon Beach. That was the moment I saw Haystack Rock for the very first time, standing like a massive sentinel against the horizon. It felt like stepping straight into a dream.

My love for the Oregon coast had always been fueled by a childhood obsession with *The Goonies*. That film had sparked a sense of adventure in me, a thirst for exploring the unknown, just like the characters hunting for One-Eyed Willy’s treasure. But back then, in those pre-internet days, I genuinely thought the Goonie house wasn’t real. I assumed it was just a clever movie prop built on a studio lot.

So, on my very first solo trip back to the beach, I decided to become a real treasure hunter. Without Google Maps or online forums to guide me, I used the movie itself as my map. I sat down, watched the film, and carefully lined up the landmarks—the tilt of the hills, the view of the bay—figuring out exactly where that house *had* to be if it were real.

And against all odds, through pure determination and a bit of that Goonie spirit, I found it. Standing there looking at it, the movie came alive.

Life on the coast always felt like living in that adventure. Every day was a discovery. There is something magical about the way the mist rolls in, the way the waves crash on the shore, and the way the sun sets behind that massive rock. It’s a place where the forest meets the sea, where nature paints the landscape in rich hues of green, blue, and gold. It’s a place where you can breathe in the salt air and feel your worries wash away with the tide.

It has been five years now since I last stood on that shore, and at times, it’s hard not to wonder if I’ll ever see those waves in person again. But the truth is, once a place like Cannon Beach takes hold of you, it never really leaves. It lives on in my thoughts, in my dreams, and in the way I see the world. I carry the entire ocean right here in my heart, and that is an adventure that never truly ends.