Conquering Fear in the Name of Love

When I asked my husband what he’d like to do for his birthday, he said he’d like to take me to Otter Beach. He calls it that because a sea otter with a tremendously pungent aroma lives there in a cave.

He’s been trying to get me to go to this beach for years, yet describes the hike down the cliffs as treacherous and the climb up as death defying. One must wear long pants to prevent being scratched by briars or caressed by poison oak.

If that weren’t enough, once one reaches the bottom there is a knee-high creek to cross that can swell higher as the tide comes in. Oh, and did I mention the narrow hole in a rock through which one must crawl?

As a plump, just-turned sixty-year-old in the midst of getting used to orthotic shoe inserts, this did not seem appealing. Especially because my reward could likely be a mauling by an angry, stinky sea otter who views me as a home invader.

But of course I said: I’d love to!

Did he exaggerate the hike? Nope. It was a minor miracle I reached the bottom intact. But the creek was exceedingly low, which I took as a good sign. Although not so low that we didn’t need to change into our wellingtons.

The beach was beautiful and deserted, which wasn’t surprising given the circumstances.

There were lots of things to see before we reached the “eye of the needle.”

A thigh-deep pool of water sat like a moat before the opening. I realized we had to scooch along a rock ledge just to get to the hole. Rob tackled it first to show me where to place my feet. Even though “balk” is my middle name when hiking, I soon found myself inside the “eye,” whose walls were adorned with goose barnacles. As I came out the other side, I expected to see the otter cave. But what I saw was the Pacific Ocean.

“We just have to climb over these stones and around this rock…”

Those were the last words he said before I screamed: Wave!

The wave wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small, either. And northern California coast water is notoriously cold, which is why Pacific wetsuits are extra thick. I scrambled to the highest point I could, but the sea water still poured into my wellingtons. Rob was even wetter.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I don’t think I feel confident about continuing.” That was an understatement. Rob agreed and we scuttled back through the narrow opening as swiftly as we could. Soon afterwards, water started pouring through the hole each time a wave crashed to shore. The tide was quickly rising.

Although the ascent back to the car was harrowing, I survived with only a minor stab to the knee from a hidden branch.

Even though I never saw the sea otter, I still felt triumphant, as if I had conquered fear in the name of love. Isn’t that what we all strive to do?

Photos © Sondra Sula.

Take a walk with me by reading my most recent daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.

If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.