Survival and Grit at Forever Valley on the Mystical Coast

After rising all day during steady rain the river had jumped the banks, flowed across the valley and was now coming into Adelia's house.

Adelia's breath caught and her heart pounded when she felt the surge of cold water run over her feet. Her baby was swaddled in a blanket and rested against her chest. The water came through the cabin walls and then rose to knee deep.

Her husband, Sean, was miles away in the village getting supplies. When Sean took the boat with goods to trade into town, or left for part-time fishing and lumbering work, Adelia was used to managing the farm and family alone.

The endless rain was drumming on the roof.

"Shamus," she called to her eldest son. "Get the children into the boat...hurry."

Adelia, with her baby, and the other four children, splashed their way across the floor and stumbled outside to the porch where the boat sat. Shamus slid it into the water. He held the bowline and the wood boat bumped against the cabin.

"Get in the center...sit still." Adelia's shouted through the rain

Their oiled rain clothing helped repel water but the air was cold under the dark, grey clouds.

"Stop moving around...Shamus...try to row us over to the higher ground."

The family sat shivering together. Adelia pulled an oiled canvas cover over everyone.

"That's good. Shamus. Children we are going to be fine. Calm down."

They saw their Forever Valley was now underwater. Taller grasses and shrubs poked up above the flooded plain.

Gusts of wind blew tight, dark ripples like shadows on the water.

Adelia knew the heavy rains combined with the high tide from the ocean had pushed the river water so high it finally leaped over the banks.

They huddled under the canvas and the oars creaked while Shamus rowed.

At the higher ground, Shamus got out and dragged the bow of the boat up the hill on the slick mud, where he tied it to a tree. They climbed out and walked uphill where dense fir tree boughs formed a canopy.

"We will wait here," Adelia said. "When the ocean's high tide goes down the flood will go down too. With the heavy rain and high tide at the same time, it caused the river to flood. We just need to wait for low tide. That's what happens when you live on a river that connects to the ocean."

The younger children looked puzzled but the older ones nodded.

Hours later the waters began to recede at low tide. Shamus dragged the boat into the water and rowed them back home. The river water went back to its usual path and the boat sat again on the porch.

Adelia and the children faced the job of shoveling the muddy silt from the floors of the cabin and washing them.

In that moment, a contrasting impression and picture flashed through Adelia's mind of her childhood self long ago on the east coast. 

How her life had changed when she left her parent's mansion in the eastern Atlantic seaport and moved to the northwestern coast next to the Pacific Ocean.

Now it was 1898 at Adelia and Sean's Forever Valley Farm nestled in the foggy, wet, green enchantment of the Mystical Coast and the Douglas Fir clothed mountains.

Adelia pictured herself in her childhood home, wearing her elaborate long frock, sitting at the polished dining table. Crystal goblets were shining under the candles in the family’s Victorian mansion.

The building's towers and carved trim rose impressively in the middle of the bustling eastern seaport.

When she started to add a log to the fireplace at the house, the flames caught her full, long, flowing skirt. Her mother threw a pitcher of water on the skirt.

But it was a close call. Adelia imagined a day when she did not have to wear the layers of petticoats and the long drapes of fabric. What if she could wear pants?

 In the Victorian mansion she followed her father’s authoritative commands while secretly listening to her own inner commentary. Adelia knew someday she would build her own life.

 Little girls were supposed to be obedient and submissive. But Adelia was independent, high-spirited, adventurous and a nonconformist.

People were not surprised when she fell in love and married an Irish storyteller. Sean's green eyes sparkled and he sang of dreams, casting spells of hope and imagination on listeners.

Now Adelia could feel the legs of her homesown pants were soaked, but she was glad she no longer wore skirts.

For six months of the year Adelia's world in Forever Valley sparkled like wet green emeralds and the storms roared in across the Pacific ocean. 

The tides ruled the beach roads and rivers that connected to the sea. High tide meant the sand dune trails next to the ocean were underwater until the next low tide. 

Coastal transportation depended on boats or on horseback and horse drawn open farm wagons.

On the coast they used the beaches as highways, when the tide was low. During rains wagon wheels got stuck in the mud so travel on trails was by horseback.

The wide rivers did not have bridges, only barges, rough ferries and other boats. Adelia knew that even in these modern times of the late `1800s the trains did not cross the steep mountains over to the Mystical Coast.

Homesteads were scattered in the wilderness. The homesteaders were resilient, tough and resourceful.

People who moved there stayed, saying "I can live here forever. We have spring water, fishing, hunting, farming, lumbering, and fertile, affordable land."

Families who had cabins and houses near the river kept boats on the porches for their escape during the floods. Livestock spent the days of heaviest rains on the mountain foothills above the flooded valleys.

Adelia thought, if only her husband, Sean, was not away now getting supplies at the village. But she could handle this alone. 

Determination was part of her core. Years ago, when she and Sean saw the pamphlets about land on the west coast their hopes were ignited.

They dropped the chains that held them in the east, where Sean worked in a factory, and decided to go west.

Adelia was disinherited by her wealthy parents when she eloped with the man she loved, who was almost penniless.

But Adelia’s heart and mind bloomed with the flower of her full potential when they left for Independence, Missouri to go west. 

 After mostly walking next to the covered wagon full of supplies for over two thousand miles on the Oregon Trail, Adelia was tough, strong and experienced with adversity.

When her long Victorian skirts got in the way on the trail, she sewed her own pants to wear and moved about with freedom and confidence. Later she sowed pants for her daughters as well as skirts so they had both to choose.

Whether putting a shoulder to the back of the wagon to help push when it got stuck, to hitching and driving the oxen who pulled it, she was capable and hard working.

Adelia left behind the quiet, obedient, dependent, sometimes helpless person whom her parents had raised.

During heaviest rains and especially high tides the Forever Valley became a vast lake as the river flooded.

Adelia was glad the dairy cattle and horses were grazing on the high ground pasture on the mountain side. 

Miles away in the small village Sean saw the river rise up under the sawmills, canneries, and shops on their stilts next to the water.

“This tide today is not the usual,” said an old timer standing next to him. “I call these the King Tides when this happens.”

From a sloping rise, Sean watched the water come up under the buildings and cover the muddy streets.

“Aye, the heavy rains and high tide together are more than the river can carry.”

The son of an Irish immigrant, Sean’s voice still held a lilting quality and rhythm. His green eyes always had a small flicker like a flame glowing. There was a lightness about his character that flowed from his heart.

“I know my dear Adelia can manage, such a wonder she is to me always, but I wish I was there to help.” He knew she was a resourceful survivor.

Back at the cabin Adelia and her older children got the damp firewood from the top of the stairs and managed to get a fire going. Gathering around it, they dried and warmed themselves while heating a stew over the fire.

Adelia was so glad her husband's fiddle and stringed dulcimer instrument were safely high above the levels of where the flood water had been in the cabin.

“At least this is not like that tornado in the Midwest on the trail out here,” said one of the boys.

“Yes, son, when the pamphlets said ‘mild climate’ they meant without tornadoes, hurricanes, desert heat, droughts, or blizzards. 

They said there was plenty of rain for farming. But they did not tell us we would be dodging raindrops half the year."

The children worked that day and the next day too, with shovels and buckets. Eventually the mud was gone from inside the house and the floor was revealed again.

They had several hot, delicious meals of the flat, fried corncakes with berries, beans bubbling in the pot on the wood burning stove, milk from the dairy cattle, and dried, salted salmon. 

The warmth of the fire and their contented, full bellies of tasty food raised their spirits.

Then the next day dawned clear and sunny. The river reflected the blushing rainbow of colors in the sky as the sun peeked over the eastern rim of the earth. 

The world in the Forever Valley on the Mystical Coast was reborn to the music of birds twittering, calling, cooing, and chirping.

The family continued cleaning and washing out the house while the wood burning stove warmed the air and dried out the floors and walls.

While they worked, Adelia and the children sang a song Sean taught them.

“I can’t wait till Papa is home,” said little Anne Marie. “So he can play his fiddle for us.”

“Yes, honey, I know. I can almost hear it now. Let’s pretend he’s here already playing one of his Irish tunes. He might be playing on his fiddle but he could also be playing on the dulcimer he made.”

When Sean wasn’t farming and building, or taking their goods over the river to the village for trading, he relaxed by carving and creating musical instruments. 

The homemade dulcimer with its strings to pluck sat on a table like a harp on its side. 

The end of a long day might be followed by the special treat of listening to the ethereal sounds that floated from those strings. It healed the day’s wounds whether physical or mental.

 Adelia held Anne Marie’s hands and danced a few steps with her, spinning her around. The child’s laughter blended with the morning songs of the birds.

What a difference from the day of the flood..

And in a few months the rainy season would pass. The days of sun, emerald trees on the mountains and soft, bubbling songs from the river would arrive.

Over on the coast soft waves would lap gently on the ocean shores and summer days would glow.

The family sat around the fireplace and the wood burning warming stove, talking about what they would do this summer when it arrived.

Their minds were filled not with the recent storm but with images dancing of the summer days to come.

From miles away on the river, Sean loaded the supplies into his boat, raised the sail, and began his trip homeward on the sparkling waters.

Yesterday was already in the past. He couldn’t wait to get home.

The sails billowed with the light wind, and Sean tacked the boat back and forth, zig zagging on the wide river.

While the bow cut smoothly through the rippling wavelets. Sean composed new songs, singing short phrases, and humming while he experimented with tunes.

In front of the boat, like flower petals in the wind, a flock of white egrets flew across the water to perch in the tall, green Douglas Firs.

Sean's inner life was lit by the thoughts and feelings of the lyrics and music that reflected nature's beauty around him. The dark day of flooding had receded like a low tide.

When Sean got home there was celebration and singing. Thoughts of the flood were gone. They were living in today's moment.

On the porch of the cabin. Sean looked at the river and squinted while thoughts flowed through his mind.

Even a hundred years from now he bet the river would still be turning the fertile valley into a vast lake part of the time in the winter.

People would still be shoveling mud from the floors of their houses unless they raised the houses up on pilings of some sort. They would still keep boats, oars and paddles on their porches to use for travel during floods.

Cattle and other animals would still need to graze on the foothills during the heavy rains or their legs would be underwater.

The river would still come up during King High Tides. Heavy rains in the winter would still flood the village and shops.

The Forever Valley and the Mystical Coast would still be relatively isolated from the rest of the world.

Sean liked it this way. Despite floods, he could live there forever.

He wondered if in another hundred years another man and his wife and their children would be sitting on a porch in this same place. They might be the future generations of his family.

Sean pictured them watching the river, feeding logs to a fireplace, telling stories, singing songs, playing stringed instruments, and enjoying salmon cooked over the fire.

Sean decided to turn that dream into reality.

Now Sean watched his sons and daughters playing. They would inherit the farm someday, and their children's children too.

Sean decided he must build a sturdier new cabin built to last, also near the river. It would be raised on strong stilts made from thick tree trunk poles.

He also decided to build another house that summer, larger and more substantial, located in the foothills above the floods.

He would build it to last at least one hundred years, for his great grandchildren to someday enjoy.

He started humming a new melody and thinking of song lyrics to tell a story.

Now he watched the Forever Valley River, back in its usual path, flowing almost lazily on this fresh, new day. It bubbled along with a musical melody of its own.

Sean, Adelia and the children went back to their usual paths too, with life flowing like their Forever River.