Planning a visit to Ocean Shores, Copalis Beach, or other areas on the Point Brown peninsula or in Grays Harbor County? Maybe with kids or dogs or both? And wondering where to stay?
May I suggest you consider the Beachwood Condos and Resort.
However, after having just stayed there over Memorial Day weekend, I have to raise a flat palm to my lips as I giggle, “teeheehee,” at the “resort” part. Yes, there’s a pool, a hot tub, two saunas, a clubhouse, free wifi, game tables, a gym, a playground, fire pits, an observation tower with views of the Pacific Ocean, and extensive landscaped grounds with easy beach access. Sounds like a resort to me, you say!
Okay, but now picture your most eccentric relative. You know, the one with the thinning blue hair and painted on eyebrows. Who lives in the detached garage so she can rent out her bungalow to a “nice man, just hard on his luck” she stumbled over in a park restroom where she was stealing toilet paper. With the overgrown lawn Bert promised to mow in lieu of rent, but can’t due to excessive faded plastic ornaments. Including two frisky squirrels posed engaging in “adult activity” by juvenile delinquents, but left that way because she thinks it’s perfectly natural. And a teachable moment for the neighborhood elementary kids on their way to the bus stop: “I want you to stay away from that house, Harper!”
Then one day you get a call from her landline because cell phones can be intercepted by the Russians to steal her vote: “guess what? I bought a 1960’s beach resort along the coast of Washington featuring a lighthouse replica exactly like my mailbox only perfectly proportioned for elves!”
She invites you to visit once she’s had time to, “remedy a wee bit of neglect and add accouterments, it’s a little bland.” And, “yes, I’ve sold the house. But there’s a trailer on the property for Bert and he’s accepted the position of pool boy.”
The new picture forming in your mind is probably a much closer likeness to the Beachwood Condos and Resort than the name alone would suggest.
Now, if you’re thinking, “but I don’t have an eccentric relative,” guess what, you’re it!
And, as such, you’re in excellent company with Kramer from Seinfeld, Liz Lemon from 30 Rock and Prof. Cruise from profcruise.com, a site that, let’s face it, no decorous traveler would ever find on the first page of a search for “the best Ocean Shores accommodations.” More likely you stumbled in here having searched for “XXX lawn squirrels” to prank your exceedingly proper and aggrieved neighbor who tore down your fence for encroaching exactly .285 inches over his property line.
The good news is, you’ll never run into him at Ocean Shores because people drive cars on the beach there and he only drives “Brenda” to and from the market, parking diagonal over two spots despite his normally strict adherence to lines, once a week between car washes.
Also, you’ll love the Beachwood Condos and Resort as much as I did. And if you have kids, they’ll really love it. Because kids are even weirder than you and I – it was “H,” my kid, who deserves the credit for that “lighthouse large enough for elves” bit. And yes, he tentatively creaked open the little wooden door on rusty hinges actually expecting to find some constructing toys, sounding surprised and deflated upon discovering, “no elves, just a bunch of junk and wires.”
Even if you’re not nuttier than a PayDay with all the caramel filling licked out, leaving the circular peanut shell fully intact, as my sugar addiction compels me to do, and found this site because everything else at Ocean Shores and Copalis Beach was sold out for the coming weekend or wasn’t dog friendly, you should sigh, apologize to your wife for not reserving something four months ago as she insisted was necessary for this time of year, and proceed to book The Beachwood Resort: “for the location, honey. Copalis Beach looks beautiful. And we can bring the dog!”
The Beachwood Resort is located in and on Copalis Beach (which is both a town and an actual beach) just off of WA-109 about 7 miles north of Ocean Shores on the west coast of Washington State. While a handful of small resorts, RV parks, and campgrounds dot the landscape, tucked back in the temperate rain forest parallel to the Pacific Ocean, the Beachwood Resort feels remote and private.
And as soon as you drop your bags in the room and flee the back of the property to explore and stretch your legs after the long drive from Seattle, your wife will change her tune from a sarcastic, “well this is quaint” to a high-spirited, “this is magnificent!”
Follow the narrow dirt and sand path leading you onto a pontoon bridge over a small creek…
…through sand dunes covered in native beach grass and wildflowers…
…up an embankment where you’ll catch your first glimpse of Copalis Beach and the vast Pacific Ocean, long after hearing her thundering waves beckoning you.
Then raise a stick in the air and marvel at our big, beautiful world and how lucky you are to be right here. In this spot. At this moment. With these people (and dog, but dogs are people too) you love.
Before racing the sun to make it back to your digs before dark.
Here’s what you’ll find upon closer inspection of your “condo.”
While we added the term “condo” to the list of things that confused us about this place, we were pleasantly and heartily surprised and impressed with our unit, #24. With a low-slung roofline, a defining characteristic of midcentury architecture, and large windows offering a pleasant view out the back of the resort toward the ocean, the exterior oozed slightly rundown looking retro charm.
And while crossing the threshold time traveled us from the 60’s to the early 2000’s where my wardrobe felt right at home, it was clean, comfortable, and well stocked with everything we needed for our long weekend.
The kitchen included a four burner stove and oven, a microwave, a coffee maker with both regular and decaf coffee provided, two small fridges with a small freezer area, a four-person set of dishes, glasses, mugs, and silverware, pots and pans, cooking utensils and both cloth and paper towels. There was no dishwasher, but dish soap and a drying rack were provided. Between a table and two bar stools, there was enough seating for four people to dine comfortably and avoid eye contact should they so desire.
While Henry T, my shaggy-haired first child, rescued from a kill shelter in West Virginia three barks from the needle, wasn’t impressed with the cleanliness of the bathroom (read as: too clean), it had everything we humans needed to slay the swamp monsters we’d become, “roar” after a day spent hiking and beaching. There was shampoo, conditioner, lotion, soap, a hair dryer, towels, and washcloths.
The living room/second bedroom featured a flat screen TV, so new it feels like the gifted kid who skipped from third grade to sixth and doesn’t fit in because he can’t relate to the pimples and confusing urges of his much older classmates. “One of these things isn’t like the others…” And so on.
And Sony’s full cable package taunts the the thin, lumpy futon. A futon who longs for someone to sit on him with the same joy and excitement every visitor expresses upon opening the imposing french country piece that turns out to be a media cabinet, “I can watch the game!” instead of, “you’re really hard to transform into a bed” followed by “your bars are stabbing me in the ribs.”
But life is practically giddy for the futon compared to the wood burning fireplace, housing two dry pieces of oak, sitting in the corner like a museum exhibit portraying what life was like before electric heat, which the “condo” was, thankfully, also equipped with.
One of the rules and regulations of the Beachwood Resort, on multiple extensive and detailed lists, leaving us to once again scratch our heads and label this place “quirky” was: no dogs allowed in the bedroom. Not a whisker or a paw or the tip of a tail trying its best to obey the law by turning around. If sirens had sounded, we wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
But because Henry T has been sleeping with me in my bed since he was a scrappy teen, terrified of his new surroundings but somehow comforted by the touch of the stranger insisting he call “mom,” I was relegated to the futon which I covered with three blankets brought from home to skirt the “no dogs on the furniture” rule. And “H” and Mr. Cruise luxuriated in the cozy and comfortable king pictured above. Actually sleeping with a six-year-old is more like a game of Whac-A-Mole in an overheated arcade, where you’re the mole. So it looks like “H,” quickly “whac!” racking up 150 points, was the only winner.
And while we were too lazy to unpack, there was a substantial dresser and closet for those inclined to settle in.
Advertising for the Beachwood Resort boasts an impressive collection of amenities as follows:
While the pool would remain drained until mid June, it looked shadier than a slim white rapper. But had it been filled, I would have tossed my kid in there for science.
While the hot tub looked well maintained, it sported a cover at all times and a caption reading: “please let the staff know 2 hours in advance before using the hot tub.”
Had I submitted my notice the first second after chill and sore muscles set in following a day of drizzly hiking, I would still be well into slumber by the time the required 2 hours elapsed.
Two Saunas.
While one of the two saunas was lovely, it required the same prohibitively inconvenient two hours of notice to enjoy. And the small second sauna would have felt like overkill had it not looked like a well tested floor model sold at 75% off during The Pool and Garden Outlet’s end of season sale. The two hours notice would have actually made sense for this one – time to staff the volunteer fire department.
If you’re a responsible mom who banned your kid from video games while on vacation, you can take out your frustration at his incessant whining on a ping-pong ball or crack a pool cue over your thigh (although I’m sure there was a rule about that). Then you can cool off with a refreshing, public shower mere feet away at the…
And if ever there were a picture worth a thousand words:
But at the time only three came to me: “what. the. hell.” And for the inevitable wedding between a hypothetical blue-haired aunt and her pool boy Bert:
They’ll ride off as the sun sets over Copalis Beach on the little stuffed rocking horse pictured below whom you’ll decorate with cans and a poop catcher reading “just married.”
Tired of safety regulations, cushioned surfaces, and modern over-parenting, your kids will proclaim: “now this is a playground!” when they see:
And, horrified at both the statement itself and her cavalier delivery of it, you’ll learn through a conversation with a long-term tenant that, “the swing has collapsed on August a couple of times.” August being your six-year-old’s new five-year-old BFF who drives around the property like a boss in her hot pink convertible Jeep singing, “summer, summer, summertime.”
Don’t worry though, you can pretend to carefully supervise the “big dig” going on in the sandbox from the raised gym as you hazard a workout on equally dated fitness equipment.
In addition to housing “the gym,” the view tower contains an outdoor patio set, vinyl padded chairs lining the back wall, and festive red decorations hanging from the rafters causing one to speculate that it recently hosted a Chinese New Year celebration.
And if you can manage to suppress any fears of falling through the floor of the wraparound balcony, the view from up there, facing the beach, is spectacular.
If you came here for advice on which nearby beach to avoid if you don’t want to return home with every pocket heavy and sagging and sandy, stuffed full of your kid’s prized sand dollar collection, the one you’ll throw away as soon as you don’t think he’ll notice, that would be the beach of Westport Light State Park.
But if you didn’t receive the above warning in time, you can wash your sand dollars, in keeping with the rule to keep all sand out of your “condo,” at the Clam Cleaning Hut which also includes a coin-op laundry for your pockets.
Or if you’re a clam digger with a permit and visit during clamming season, you can also wash your razor clams here as per its intended purpose.
Because every otherwise successful vacation includes at least one regret, “I wish we’d had time to [fill in the blank] ________,” we filled in the blank with: utilize our fire pit. Which was large enough to simultaneously roast three jumbo-sized marshmallows. Each.
Next time. And all jokes (Dear owners of the Beachwood Resort: I was laughing with you) aside, there most certainly will be a next time.
While I still can’t be certain if my love for The Beachwood “Condos” and “Resort” is ironic or sincere, I’m not sure it matters. Because matters of the heart are never rational. This place made me laugh and marvel and feel brimmed with life. It smelled like the sea and sounded like thunder and it made my kids – the shaggy one with two legs who always needs a bath and a haircut and the shaggy one with four legs who always needs a bath and a haircut – so very happy. And nothing brings more joy to a mother than seeing her children happy.
Except for pie. Did I mention the check-in attendant, after quizzing us on the size and manner of our dog and going over the 300 rules 300 times, gave us two free mini pies, a pecan and a sweet potato? Random and delicious, just like the resort itself.
Go here to book the Beachwood Condos and Resort. And with that…
Class Dismissed
*Don’t forget to check out my other “road trips from Seattle” posts here. And don’t forget to subscribe to the blog (scroll up to the top right if using a computer or just keep scrolling down if you’re on a mobile device) and follow me on social media:
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