On the last leg of our journey through Oregon, we stop in Brookings, 5 miles from the California border. I sit in the grass digging for material to write about while listening to a band performing at the American Music Festival hosted by the city. Kids pass on longboards, long haired women in their 50's dance in between the lawn chairs sprinkled across the hillside. The fog is finally starting to break. The music is well appreciated and an encore is easily attained. I ride back through Brookings to Harris Beach to set camp. Along the way I pick up a baguette with ham and a Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout to have for dinner. I pitch the tent and walk to the beach where tourists are sparsely pocketed in groups along the shore. Rock formations rise from the ocean as the sun sets. Wind and water carve arches in the stone which look like portals to the sea. I snap some pictures and explore the tidal pools where starfish, green anemones, and hermit crabs make their home. It always fascinates me how intensely orange and purple some of the starfish become. I walk around a bend and find a trail up an embankment. I follow the trail and find a bench looking directly at the sunset as it sinks into the Pacific, I sit down and once again am amazed at the all the beauty I am passing through as I travel. [B. Bolen]

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