Our Very Own Cape of Invisibility

Astoria As Seen From The Bridge 6/19/17

In Oysterville, you know summer is here, not by the calendar or even by the ambient outdoor temperature.  It’s the morning fog – that moist marine layer that is said to have drawn the first hordes of tourists here back in the 1870s and that soon gave rise to the name “North Beach Peninsula.”  Those visitors came downriver from the hot inland valleys to find cooling relief by the seashore.  Near the mouth of the Columbia, they landed on the right or north bank where the ocean beaches were more accessible.  Voilà!  North Beach Peninsula!

In our household, we are content in the knowledge that the fog “will burn off by 11 o’clock.”  That’s what my dad always said and he was right nearly all of the time.  We also know that, if we are headed to Portland or other inland points, we should dress for hot weather.  So it was yesterday morning.  It was in the high 50s here when we left Oysterville at 10:30 a.m. and visibility on the back road made a blessing of the oncoming fog lights.  We threw our jackets in the backseat against our return, ‘just in case,’ but were pretty sure we wouldn’t need them in the big city.

Blue Sky, Blue Columbia – 6/19/17

The gray drippy-enough-for-windshield- wipers weather continued and thickened as we neared the river.  Not only was the other side of the Columbia shrouded, we could barely see the water, itself, beyond the rocky rip-rap.  But… on the bridge, the view became magical!  Blue sky, blue water but no shorelines on either side – just the cottony, protective band of white fog.  Absolutely beautiful.

A lot has been written about fog.  Patricia Beatty, in her book O The Red Rose Tree wrote of the “eerie walks” her characters took in the mornings around Ocean Park.  In the familiar old folksong, the weaver says, So I hauled her into bed and covered up her head, just to keep her from the foggy foggy dew.  And, of course, Carl Sandburg’s fog came in on little cat feet.

Looking Across The Bay 6/20/17 – No There There

I don’t know that any of those descriptors fit the fog of Oysterville and the Peninsula.  At least, not for me.  I think of it more as an isolating, muting barrier – a protective cape of invisibility à la Harry Potter that we are provided again and again during the summer season.  Within it, we are isolated from the noise and fuss of the world beyond our neighborhood; we can concentrate on the things that really matter.  Until 11 o’clock.

It was 89° when we arrived in Portland yesterday.  Not a cat foot in sight.

One Response to “Our Very Own Cape of Invisibility”

  1. Stephanie Frieze says:

    Oysterville, like Nahcotta, is in a bot of a banana belt. When I lived in Nahcotta the fog would burn off to a beautiful day while my friend Christopher sat in the fog of Sraview all day.

Leave a Reply