People need escapes. There is no shame in it. We live in a connected world and are assaulted daily by demands and constraints on our time and patience. Even if we never declare as much out loud, we all need a special place to flee from the tweets, the Tivo's, the cubicles and the screen savers. Thoreau wrote: "Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify." So turn off the cell phone and retreat where I often do, a place where you can became a lord of the forest; Oswald West State Park.
My Time as a Lord of Oswald
There are others who can speak with authority on the man Oswald West and his importance as an Oregon governor. I will leave that to them. I became a Lord of Oswald during the first week of my journey as an Oregonian. That is how it has been between the park and visitors; a series of firsts with a simple agreement. From the first moment you set foot on its moss and fern covered trails, you agree to share everything with this place. In return, it gives the restorative and curative powers of its trees, streams, beach, and rocks. It would becomes a retreat and I you give your attention
Other firsts followed at Oswald. I first put Oregon pen to Oregon paper in that place, overwhelmingly inspired to write in a way I had never experienced in the snow bound flatness of Minnesota. My first date with the woman that became my wife would be blessed by a rare warm late November Oswald day. I would hold her hand on its beach for the first time and our union would be witnessed by the sighing surf and waving trees. She too would become a Lord of Oswald. Both of my dogs, Cisco and Kirby, would chase their first tennis balls, run after their first seagulls and splash in their first salty surf there. And, when the time came, both would have their ashes placed lovingly at the altar of the massive, timeless trees that watch over the park like sentinels sent by Tolkein himself. There are no secrets between you and this place. It shares and revels in your joy, silently cradles you in your sorrow, and supports your decisions without judgment.
A Lord of Oswalds' Duties
As Lords of Oswald, it is your duty to visit often. Go early in the day, especially in the summertime when the many inland visitors have not yet awakened. The parking lot is largely empty; there is usually a scattering of Westfalia's or VW vans belonging to surfers who find the same Oswald spirituality we do, but in a different way. The air is always cool in the early morning; the sun hasn't strecthed fully awake. Take the trail from the parking lot down to the cold, clear stream below. Use the bridge that knows the feel of foot falls, circle up to the highway and cross to the trailhead. The trees will close around and say 'hello' softly. Ascend into the green and you will notice traffic sounds fade beyond the canopy. The mind wanders as conversation ceases; you are instructed to be quiet and let your thoughts free. The trail meanders slowly and soon opens up to a bench overlooking the mighty Pacific.
The surf is always frothy and foamy and below, the beach stretches pristinely in either direction. You can always find surfers bobbing expectantly in the water, waiting for the perfect moment to practice their art. Surf dogs pace nervously back and forth below, waiting for their masters return. Depending on your mood, you can take the spiral path down to the beach and stick your bare feet in the soft, cold sand. Talk softly and make big plans, discard others. Sometimes, on mornings where adventure beckons, try the trail to Cape Falcon. There, climb through brush and spider webs to the high bluff and survey your kingdom while basking in the sun. Other times, simply sit on the bench overlooking the beach and listen to the surfers' dogs bark. There is a plaque there which commemorates one of the original Lords of Oswald, AP reporter Matt Kramer. It doesn't matter which direction you choose; as Lords of Oswald, it is your choice. When the week has been long and the demands placed upon you too tedious to recall, just sit.
I am a Lord of Oswald. I say this not with conceit or malicious intent. I did not stage a coup or claim squatter's rights at this place. It is not an exclusive title; you can claim it every time you visist. It was bestowed on me as a simple agreement between myself and the park. I would walk the paths and beaches, talk to the trees and streams, and sit among the ferns and rocks. In return, I would talk softly when there was something to say, and say nothing when no words were needed. I would tread lightly and pay attention to the swaying of the trees. I would show others the paths and trails and make them mindful of each turn and contour. And, above all else, I would never call the office.
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