Читать книгу Secrets At the Cove - Honey Perkel - Страница 10

Surfer’s Cove was one of the most beautiful spots on the northern Oregon Coast. The waves were awesome as the kids nowadays would confirm; perfect for water surfing. And they came from all over the Pacific Northwest, the United States, and beyond — their cars parked along Sunset Boulevard, the curved road just feet from the chilly, turbulent sea. Passersby gazed out at the black steely figures dressed in rubber suits, steady on their brightly colored boards as they rode the waves. Local residents and tourists alike came to the cove to watch, to escape their lives, to breathe the salty air. For minutes. For hours. It is what the pounding surf did for people. It transported them to another place and, all too often, to another time. Professionals and restaurant and shop owners took a break from their busy workday schedules to come and watch the powerful ocean rip against the strand. Tourists packed lunches and picnicked on the weathered wooden benches along the grassy bank. The cove was the heart of Paradise.