(On The Road Part Two)

Having hunkered down in our peaceful Nye Beach cabin after an exhausting first day on the road, we awoke to a bright winter sunrise and the sound of waves crashing on the shore below. The beach, which had been cloaked in darkness when we arrived, now beckoned irresistibly.

We'd already decided to spend an extra night here, so a wide open play day awaited. As soon as we gazed out the living room windows at the unbroken expanse of ocean, sky and sand that spread out from here to infinity, we knew we'd made the right decision.

Cookie knew something was in the air as soon as she stepped outside to do her morning business. I mean this literally, for this is a dog with a very fine nose. She had never in her life smelled salt water, seashells, rotting kelp, driftwood or the myriad mixed aromas of the seashore. In her world things were definitely looking up.

Looking down, we could see that our cabin sat on the edge of a very steep bluff. A rickety wooden stairway led down to the beach, a vast, flat expanse of sand dotted with driftwood. A number of the locals were already out and about, many with dogs, and everyone seemed to be having a fine time. An old Bob Dylan tune popped into my head... "if dogs run free, why can't we?"

There were no vehicles on the beach, which is always a plus-just dogs and people, birds and waves, and after a pot of coffee we bundled up and headed out. Cookie was on her leash, which turned out to be a good move on our part. The stairs were not only steep, they were also slippery, and there were a lot of them, punctuated with short landings and the occasional bench.

Cookie doesn't generally trust stairs. One or two steps is about all she's ever had to deal with. This was more like one or two hundred, and she had to be picked up and carried for the first part of the descent.

Mr. B was with us of course, but we soon realized that at any moment he might slip from Cookie's mouth and fall through an opening and be lost forever mid-bluff in a tangle of underbrush. We grabbed him-disaster averted-and made our way down, the dog now thoroughly discomfited.

When we finally reached the bottom, I tossed the ball out onto the sand, unleashed Cookie, and off she went. It's impossible to over-state the sheer delight that a first exposure to a great, wide beach brings to a pup-dog. She tore across the sand, yipping and sniffing, grabbed the ball and waited impatiently as we carefully navigated the tumble of rocks, weeds, rivulets and driftwood at the base of the steps.

I'd brought along the ball throwing tool du jour – a Chuck-it – and quickly realized that outside of the confines of our home court, here we had truly found the wide open spaces for which the West is famous. I could throw that ball as far as possible, with no worries about breaking a window or getting stuck at the top of a tree. And so I did.

This led to one of those indelible moments in the life of a dog that will forever bring a chuckle. Cookie, reveling in her unbridled freedom, chased Mr. B across the endless sand, grabbed the ball and – without breaking her stride-spun around and sped back to us. At this moment her excitement overran all boundaries. Everything let go, and a stream of poo pellets exploded out from her backside like Tootsie Rolls in a candy factory. It was a veritable Lewis & Clark trail of poo. She could have followed it home in the dark.

Once we stopped laughing, we cleaned up the remains, tossed Mr. B around until Cookie wore herself out, watched the shore birds, met a few other dogs and then made our way back up the stairs to our cabin.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly. The cozy Nye Beach community offered plenty of convenient walking and shopping options, most of them dog friendly. An afternoon return to the beach was, without question, mandatory. Toss in snacks, regular meals, some music time and the calming sound of the endless waves, and it would be almost impossible to design a better day in the life of a dog – or her humans. And so our second day on the road wrapped up quietly in the comfort of our cabin, with more adventures to come once we hit the road again the next morning.