The Most Beautiful Thing All Day

The water of the McKensie River is a translucent blue. It runs down the flanks of the Cascade Mountains, collecting water from snow-capped peaks and glacial run-off.  Its clarity creates a porthole to an underwater paradise. Oakley and I stop again and again along the banks and on bridges to ogle at the fish and plants under the water that sways them gently to and fro. Today there is no rush.

As we stare down into the water, we can see the pink sides of trout as they nap in the calm eddies, the weightless plant fronds in the current and bubbles tumulting down from small waterfalls. The rocks on the bottom are smooth due to the endless sanding of the river’s flow, and every cove is filled with rounded pebbles of pastel hues: blue, pink, emerald and graphite. For 56 miles we slowly climb up and away from the Oregon coast through verdant trees dripping with moss along the river’s side.

We continue on to Belknap Springs, a natural hot spring and campsite at the base of a mountain pass. It is a treasure. The area is covered with huge, old-growth trees, and the tent sites seem minuscule in comparison, making us feel like hobbits in an enchanted forest. 

As the sun begins to set, we soak our weary muscles in one of the peaceful, naturally-heated swimming pools, supposedly infused with healing minerals and properties found deep beneath the earth. What could be better?

As we float, struck dumb with exhaustion, we are joined by a group of adult siblings who are here for a little healing as well as a little party. There are six of them. I groan as they come galumphing into our quiet space. They enter like a circus parade, shouting and cannon balling and guzzling beer (all of which was very much against the rules, and all of which makes Oakley love them even more). Their bodies are beautifully fleshy with full, rounded curves, barrel chests and round bottoms, much like the rocks we had seen all along the river. I can feel Oakley watching them intently and longing to be invited into their reverie.

One of the sisters has a long, thick, red braid curling around her shoulder and down below her waist. She appears more demure than the others and gives herself the task of judging the family cannon ball contest. I think it is because she doesn’t want to get her fancy-schmanchy hair wet, and I inwardly roll my eyes. Oakley and a few other children seize their chance and enthusiastically join in. 

The sister sits on the side of the pool and assesses each performance,

“What was that? Put your bum into it!” and, “That was a 3 out of 10! You need to commit!” She grows increasingly agitated. “Do you need me to show you how to do it?” Huge splashes cover the surface of the pool and the surrounding deck, but apparently, they are not good enough. “Goddamn, you all have nothing!” she shouts.

“Oh yeah, why don’t you show us!” yells her brother, “Knock yourself out, you think you are all that?” She hesitates for an instant and then springs to her feet.  

“Okay, you asked for it!” With that she reaches up and grabs the top of her head. For one pregnant moment, she stands with her hand grasping her hair and then draws it up, in one motion pulling off her glorious wig and throwing it onto a deck chair. And there is her head, as bald and as round as the rest of her. “Watch out!” she screams and with that she launches herself off the side of the pool and hurls her mass into the air, grabbing her knees and plummeting—beautiful, big round bottom first—down into the water.

The splash she makes is magnificent, and when she comes bobbing to the surface there are cheers all around. She definitely wins. 

It is the most beautiful thing we have seen all day.