“March to the Sea" by THOR

The pure magnitude and danger of what I requested, the meeting of the ruling Mafia families, was the equivalent of walking into no mans land in between two great armies. I had called for a meeting, of not just two, but all the ruling Mafia families to gather on July Seventh, 2007 on the beach at the North Jedi in Florence, Oregon. The walk to the coast along Rhododendron Drive took two hours with a full pack. In it I had: a change of clothes with extra socks, food consisting of an apple, a bag of chips, and a cheeseburger which never made it to the shore. I eat when I’m anxious. Thirteen copies of Peace-UP Family were rolled around a victory cigar and tucked next to the book “The Essential Ghandi”. On top of all this lay my green bed roll with my name “Thor” written so any person approaching from behind could see who was who was walking along Rhododendron Drive, which followed along the near by Siuslaw river finally empting into the Pacific ocean.

Along the road the banks of sand and moss lifted a few feet and were crested with stunted pines reaching over the way forming a macabre twisted canopy which all kinds of flying foul had made their home. As I trudged under these tangled trees along my solitary sojourn an occasional car would pass. The occupants would sometimes smile and wave, but most looked upon me with curious quizzical eyes wondering; where and what in the world I was doing the lone solitary soldier marching this serene scenic route to the sea. I turned a corner and climbed a hill. Below me and to my left lay the river running and skipping through the wind which ruffled it’s wavy hair causing small tufts of foam on the sharper peaks to lay down like white shadows against the dark olive of the water. Gulls swooped and soared like the swallows above L.C.C.; never landing, and winging with child like abandon through the corridors of the sky. The road was a black tarmac tearing a straight strict line for a half a mile before me. The trees to my right were wild and swept inland like some great comb had tediously and tactfully lay upon them teasing every branch and limb. Still I continued my march to the sea. I came upon a disheveled looking windsurfer morosely tying his board to the top of his vehicle. I said “It’s a hard wind to tack in”. He nodded back, his defeat showing in his squinting eyes as he deftly tied the knots that would keep his board safe from the winds that had surely bested him all day. I continued to place foot after foot and step after step alone and untiring in my march; shifting my pack here and there determined to make my goal. Up another hill and behind the trees again as the road set by engineers’ years ago followed the contours of the land.

Finally, a sign ahead, gave notice of my final leg pointing me to the left. I set off lighter in step straight west and on a gentle grade leading me into the North Jedi state park. The smell of the sea air hung in my nostrils’ giving scent to the pines that had been my only bouquet for miles. The road layout shifted quickly, running down hill twisting and turning away from me like a black snake in tall brown and green crab grass. From my vantage I could finally hear the distant booming roar of the surf like the back round din around a major airport. I shut my eyes’ letting the distant pounding of countless waves wash over me like an auditory blanket of sound. I began crisscrossing my way down the hill diligently watching for cars on the numerous blind corners until I reached the bottom of the steep slope. The road wrapped around a small alcove where a group of people and a dog were frolicking and enjoying themselves in the small offshoot inlet. I walked down the road a ways passing some covert cunning weed smokers in there car and spy a small gathering of people talking and laughing around a picnic table. I stopped and asked them how much further till I reach the Jedi if I stay on this road? They replied “About a mile.” As I turned to go, a man called out to me and said “It’s a lot faster to go around the lagoon” while pointing over his shoulder.

I continued by the group intent on not losing my momentum and passed through a path in the grass. There in front of me lay a calm water lagoon. A rock wall set by the Army Core of Engineers’ bordered it on the left keeping the river in its turbulence at bay. On the right sweeping around in a crescent was a sandy beach which was hedged by tall sharp beach grass. The wind blew gently here from the North causing small ripples across the surface of the water. The sand had a few foot prints which were erratically followed the meandering tracks of two dogs, one large and one miniature. The smaller of the tracks often were interrupted. I would assume, the owner picked up the smaller of the two dogs and tended to it’s delicate needs. Small strange sand critters resembling alien see-through grasshoppers jumped and hopped at every step I took. My passing must have seemed a great earthquake to the tiny fellows, for they jumped as each of my feet fell, creating a bizarre dancing duet in the wet sand. The sound of the surf was becoming rhythmic the closer I got to the actual shoreline.

 I crested a small hill which thread its way through the tall grass and crossed the parking lot which I had crossed seven years before. I passed the final bluff and looked over the fields of sand and small dunes that spread between me and the sea. Some great storm raging had washed and strewn salt white bleached logs of every shape and size upon the tan sand; as if some mad voodoo doctor was throwing bones in a fortune telling ritual. I stopped putting my hoddie on under my leather for it suddenly was very chilly. The North wind was blowing its’ cold breath in a steady stream, intent on moving the sand one granule at a time, covering the tracks of those who had passed and resetting the hills and dunes in its’ fervor. I plodded to the waters edge dipping my fingers into the receding surf and then licking off the sticky salty sea water in sort of a ritual. I took my laurels and climbed atop of a stump that resembled a large gnarled fist of giant that was buried beneath up to his wrist. Small birds ran and scampered back and forth on the beach cheeping and peeping always a step in front of the waves like small children playing tag with the surf. I pulled out my victory cigar, lighting it and pulled hard allowing the rich tobacco flavor to circle around in my mouth like a dark sultry lover. The sun was setting, dipping down to sleep below the fleecy clouds which were its’ heavenly blankets of cotton and lace. The orange light seemed to start a thousand fires on the crests of every wave. When the sun sets on the horizon you can almost see it move down degree by degree. Within a few minutes it was gone, yet the red hue of the sky still remarked and told of its passing. My cigar was just a stub in my hand, long forgotten during the celestial display that had unfolded before me.

I had set out at the beginning of the day determined to make it to the North Jedi in Florence. I had started my soldiers’ march to the sea intending to find others of my brethren at the end of my journey. What I found was serenity, majestic glory and over whelming peace. Maybe that was all I was looking for.

Thor