The Rogue Wave of the Mystical Coast

The surge of icy water swept over her feet. Then rising above her knees, it pulled Elsie into the tumbling ocean surf, along with her puppy and her friend.

They surfaced in a cave of sloshing water.

Earlier, Elsie was walking on the beach she loved near the lighthouse. It was a mystical and magical place. The next moment the ocean flooded the sand and surrounded her with a rogue wave surge.

Elsie and her friend Bret saw the dark, furry head of her puppy, Teddybear, emerge.

A swell of water lifted them, then dropped, and they stood on a sandy bottom. Elsie saw they were in a towering cave. Sea lions barked from their perches.

The beach trek began that morning when the kids from the Mystic Lighthouse climbed over volcanic rocks surrounded by tidepools. They were looking at sea anemones, starfish, and bundles of kelp. Roaming away from the lighthouse station, they rounded the rocky outcroppings and explored what the low tide revealed.

"This is so different from the ranch in Texas and the place we lived in San Francisco," said Elsie.

"It's different to me too from where I lived near lakes in Minnesota," replied Bret.

Both of their families were now lighthouse keepers on the coast.

Clouds and mists floated across the ocean and got caught in the limbs of the trees.

"I wonder if I will ever know all the mysteries of this coast," said Bret.

"My father says Mystical Coast has many faces," replied Elsie. "And many surprises."

The March sky was quiet and grey. The ocean waves were smooth without whitecaps. But the rolling ocean swells were huge.

Elsie breathed in the scent of the salt air and the mountain forests. "I love the ocean," she thought. "Living next to the sea makes every day special."

“Be careful,” warned Elsie’s mother, Jeannie, when the kids headed to the beach, walking down the slope from their houses on the bluff.

“It’s the season for rogue waves. Don’t get caught. It might look calm but ocean surges can surprise you.”

They were wilderness kids of the year 1898 living on an isolated coast, used to roaming wild and free.

“What could happen? We explore all the time,” thought Elsie.

“We know this coast and ocean like an old friend,” said Bret.

Later, splashing through the water in the cave, Elsie gasped for air. Bret pulled her over to the boulders on the side. They climbed up the slippery rock and Teddybear followed. Bret reached down, grabbing Teddybear’s collar, to pull him up.

They were shaking, with their teeth rattling, and their deep breathes echoing against the cave walls. Bret said, “We’re going to need a fire.”

Elsie’s face was colorless. But for a twelve-year-old little girl, she recovered her wits quickly. She looked around to analyze the situation.

Bret admired her, knowing she was 4 years younger than he was.

“I’m still alive,” Elsie thought. She trembled violently from the cold March ocean water. Her limbs felt numb.

“Elsie,” Bret shouted, “Keep moving.”

In the darkness, they saw the shapes of sea lions sliding over the rocky islands protruding from the water in the cave. Their sea lion barks sounded rougher and more guttural than a dog barking.

Elsie’s shaking voice said, ”I’ve been in here before. There’s a way out through the ceiling farther inside the cave.”

She stumbled onto the boulders and began crawling. The movement stirred her circulation. Her arms and legs felt better.

“Follow me,” she called.

Bret scrambled after her.

“We need a fire. Dry moss. Kindling,” called Bret.

The shaking puppy, Teddybear, slipped and slid over the rocks, his nose bumping Elsie’s leg.

Getting caught in rocky crevices, banging their knees, fingers working hard to move, they felt the cold creeping further into their limbs while they went along a rising trail, deeper into the cave.

The light from the entrance grew dim. Under their feet, they encountered rocks worn smooth like river rocks from running water.

“I think this is the way. Come on.” Elsie’s voice sounded high and thin.

She felt her heart thumping hard. Teddybear panted next to her. Light filtering through from the cave entrance cast wavering shadows on the walls.

“Look, driftwood.” Bret’s voice echoed against the cave walls.

“I see moss, let's start a fire.” Bret hurried onward.

The roar of a wind squall with hurricane force struck the outside of the cave and howled like an animal. They knew the quiet sky was now a storm with winds battering the coast. 

Bret searched for moss and kindling dry enough to start a fire.

“Here, this might work.” Elsie handed him moss and broken wood bits.

Pulling his knife out, Bret grabbed a fist-sized rock.

Over and over, he struck the knife edge on the rock. Wet and shivering, they watched for sparks on the moss.

A tiny grey column rose from the moss. Bret breathed softly on it.

The column of smoke disappeared.

“Again…we’ll get it,” Bret said.

Bret hit the knife across the rock. A tiny spark fell.

Elsie and Bret held their breath.

“Yes,” thought Elsie.

A brown crisping of the moss began to spread. Bret waited. Smoke rose like a thin snake.

Bret waited. It grew stronger. “Patience,” he thought.

The moss began to smolder. Bret blew lightly on it.

Small flames licked the air and then gathered strength. They reached higher and the air warmed.

Slowly, Eslie and Bret coaxed the flames into a campfire. The warmth made their chilled limbs hurt, and they moved back from the fire.

Adding small logs, and then a larger driftwood piece, soon they had a blaze.

The cave was brightly lit. Elsie and Bret felt their cold, stiff bodies become warm. They slumped against the cave walls, resting. Their wet clothes began to dry. Time passed while they recovered. They began to feel almost cozy.

“How long have we been gone? Will anyone be looking for us?” Elsie’s thoughts raced.

Elsie tried to remember the time she was in the cave before.

“Where was that opening in the ceiling where I crawled through and saw the lighthouse on the distant bluff?” Elsie tried to picture it.

“We need to use the driftwood as torches and keep going,” she told Bret. “There is another way out. I think we can find it.”

Elsie felt strength and determination rising inside. "She could do this. They would find the way out," she told herself. Elsie rose and began to move with purposeful steps.

Bret saw her eyes gaze steadily into the darker parts of the cave.

“She’s incredible,” he thought. “Four years younger than I am, but look at her.”

Teddybear’s lab retriever fur had dried nicely in the heat from the fire. He leaned against Elsie softly, wrapping himself around her.

“Oh, you’re so warm now, Teddybear.” Esie lowered her head to cuddle against him. He gave her face the soft lick of a dog kiss. She heard her breathing coming slower and put her cheek against Teddybear’s furry neck. She always felt better near Teddybear. Together they could overcome anything.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Ready?”

“Here’s a torch,” Bret said handing her a long piece of driftwood with the lighted tip glowing while it burned slowly.

The torches lit the cave floor and provided some warmth. They stepped carefully and saw they were moving on an upward slope.

The cave zig-zagged back and forth, winding uphill underground. Their shadows stretched tall against the walls. They could wind blowing and whistling outside from hidden crevices.

“Look.” Elsie pointed to a small, distant spot of light. She felt her chest relax and breathed slowly in and out with relief.

They moved cautiously, but with urgency, reaching the light, and climbing over boulders to an opening in the cave ceiling.

Late afternoon was fading. Heavy clouds sat low to the earth. The wind was dying down. 

“See it.” Elsie pointed. 

High on the cliff above the ocean, sat the white tower of the lighthouse. Evening was falling and the beacon was lit. It swept across the ocean and rotated around, lighting the shores of the coast.

Elsie felt a sense of wonder. "I never get tired of seeing this," she said.

"The light of the beacon," began Bret, then he was overcome and at a loss for words.

They watched the light flashing across the sea and shores, feeling a mystical and magical sense of joy.

"Our light, leading us home," said Elsie. They saw activity around the lighthouse and the keeper's houses.

“They must be looking for us,” said Bret. Lights of kerosene lanterns were bobbing around on the distant bluff and trails, and some were heading down the path to the beach.

“Wave your torch,” said Elsie. They began to holler even though they were too far away to be heard.

The kerosene lanterns swung back and forth.

“They see us. They’re answering,” said Bret.

Elsie, Bret, and Teddybear slowly stepped along the dunes and then down to the beach, where they met the search party.

Later, wrapped in blankets, sipping fragrant hot tea made from kitchen garden herbs, they chewed fresh warm muffins and told their story. The group of family and friends gathered around the wood-burning Franklin stove sat quietly in the dancing firelight.

Teddybear rested his head on Elsie’s foot, stretched out on the warm floor.

Bret let Elsie relate the tale. He saw she seemed to have grown up that day from a young, unsure little girl into a more confident and mature lady.

"So we found our way out of the winding cave trails," she finished. "I was scared, but when we built the fire and lit the torches, I knew we would find our way."

Elsie paused and thought about what she just said.

"We knew we could do it." Her voice was soft but sure when she ended her story.

Outside the window, clouds scudded in front of a crescent moon and the ocean sang her songs to the rhythms of her waves.

Hundreds of feet below the Victorian lightkeeper's house, where Elsie and Bret gathered with their families, an ocean swell grew larger. It surged far up over the beach and into the rows of crops nestled against the hillside.

"The ocean has her own personality," said one of the lightkeepers who was a retired captain. "Sometimes she likes her peaceful seas, but don't turn your back. She also likes to gather her strength and hurl her waters across the shores."

Elsie and Bret looked at each other with knowing gazes.

"I love her, but she's a rogue on some days," said the retired captain.

Elsie thought, "I love her too, and now I understand her language better. She is still a beautiful ocean."

When she fell asleep later that night, Elsie dreamed of the ocean and felt a sense of wonder.

Snuggled under her blankets, she felt Teddybear cuddle up to her side and knew he had sneaked up the stairs.

Wrapping an arm around him, she felt her home at the lighthouse was still a mystical and magical place and she loved sharing it with her puppy.