Brianna Walker

Adventures are what happen when what’s supposed to happen doesn’t — and boy, did we have an adventure!

June rains had dampened everything, including our spirits. The plants weren’t thriving, the swaths of hay had bleached out, and I’d given up on the mud tracks across my kitchen floor. My husband remarked that while April showers bring May flowers, June showers just bring moldy hay.

With all the gloom around our house, it felt good to be leaving to attend a wedding on the coast, even considering the price of fuel. We packed in the rain. We fueled up in the rain. I read to the kids with the steady thump-squeak of the windshield wipers in the background. We all wondered how wet a beach wedding would be.

But to our surprise the beach was dry and sunny. Feeling cheerful in the warm sun rays, we decided flying kites on the beach would be the perfect way to spend the afternoon. We basked in the warm sun and sand as we took turns teaching the kids how to fly a two-line kite. The afternoon passed quickly, and soon we were holding sparklers in an arch as the bride and groom raced under them and off to their new life together.

The next morning it was still raining at home, so we decided to enjoy a visit to Hug Point. Hug Point got its name in the late 19th century before Highway 101 was built. The only way to travel that stretch of coast was along the beach. The pioneers and stagecoaches had to wait for low tide and then “hug” the rocks to get around the point. At low tide the old stagecoach ruts can still be seen in the rocks.

The beach was beautiful. I loved the waterfalls, my oldest found the caves exciting, and my youngest was having a ball just running around dragging a stick in the sand. We got to the point where the wagon wheel ruts were visible, and splashed through a bit of water to get to the trail. The scenery was gorgeous and I was lamenting that I didn’t bring a camera or a tripod to take a family photo.

About that time, a man in an Air Force shirt approached us. “Can I take your family photo?” he asked. “The moment I saw you guys, I told myself, that family needs a group photo.”

We chatted a bit and learned he was a retired photographer for the Air Force. He was from Michigan, but now he and his wife resided in Hillsboro. He had a slight accent and when we told him we were from Walla Walla, he repeated it, making it sound more like “Waller Waller.”

We finally bade them goodbye and continued our way around the point and onto the next beach, where our kids befriended a golden retriever and spent the next half-hour throwing balls for her while we chatted with her parents.

Hand in hand again, my husband and I walked the beach looking at the sand dollars and crabs that had washed up while our kids drew pictures, climbed rocks and played in tidepools. We finally decided we should head back — and that’s when our vacation became an adventure.

The rocky path that had jutted far above the raging water was now flush with the ocean. We raced along the ruts. My jeans were soaked up to my knees and when it hit the waist of our 6-year-old, he had to be carried. We got to the outermost point and had to wait in between waves as the tide crashed into the cliff.

On the other side of the point was a cave and a beach — but when we rounded the corner, it was all underwater. The path in front of us was over my head in water, and didn’t look safe to traverse even without kids. We were standing in puddles of water now, and the path behind us was roaring from the waves crashing every few seconds.

Our only choice was to turn around, thankful for all the mussels and barnacles that covered the wagon ruts, for they gave us traction as the tide rolled in on top of us. We were drenched by the time we made it back to the other beach.

Looking for another beach access, we came back across the couple with the golden retriever. They offered to give my husband a ride back to get our vehicle. “That stretch of road is just too narrow to walk with kids,” they said.

The access was quite a long ways up the beach, so we continued to play and take pictures as we walked, thankful for meeting someone who was willing to give us a ride. About halfway back, we heard a semi-familiar voice shouting, “Hey, Waller Waller folks!”

We looked up to see the Air Force man and his wife walking towards us. “We came to see if you needed a ride back to get your vehicle.”

When we had left them, they had waded in near-waist-deep water to get back, and they began discussing that with the tide rolling in, we would never make it back. They had driven up the highway to the next beach access that we would have found and came down looking for us.

I got a bit of a lump in my throat. I couldn’t believe that strangers on a beach had come back looking for us. I don’t know their names, but their surprising kindness will never be forgotten.

When we left the beach, we drove back into rain. But somehow the darkness was less gloomy. That little bit of extra thoughtfulness from strangers had brought sunshine into our souls, and gave a happy ending to our high-tide adventure.