Martial Arts Man

Perfect timing on a low tide exposed a new stretch of beach and mud flats for Elmer and me to explore, so we explored the territory, with Elmer leading the way and me searching for more hairy tritons.

It was six in the morning and Coos Bay barely moved. I saw only one fishing boat cruising the channel. No clammers. A few gulls overhead.

My recently deceased father occupied my mind. I wish he could have known I moved to Coos Bay and began a new coastal life and have thrived here.

We must have explored for an hour and then I turned us around to head for home. Nine hairy tritons. A good haul.

As we approached the parking lot, a homeless man emerged from the willows where I'd seen and met several other homeless people camping. He was holding a coiled piece of green rope under his arm.

I said good morning and he said good morning. He was bearded and reedy and wore a soiled Clemson University hoodie. His black backpack rested on the sand near a driftlog. So did a pair of nunchucks, the martial arts fighting tool made of wood and chain. Over the years, I've seen several homeless men practicing with them.

I struck up a conversation with the man. He set the rope down and it was then I noticed a six-inch knife was attached to the end of the rope.

He picked up the nunchucks and began practicing, not at all in a threatening manner. I just think he wanted to demonstrate his skill.

Elmer went completed nuts on the leash as the man swung his nunchucks this way and that. I had to hold on tight.

The man remarked on Elmer's handsome appearance.

I asked him how he came to know how to use nunchucks.

I just turned 51. I used to like to fight a lot. I got into a lot of fights. Three years ago, I started using the nunchucks and rope dart, never against anyone, just showing others, and I haven't got into a fight since.

So it's a defensive measure to avoid violence.

Exactly. And it's a lot safer than a gun.

He set down the nunchcucks and took up the rope dart. I was puzzled how it worked so I asked him. He explained that he cast the rope like a fly fishermen and the knife then struck whatever he had thrown up in the air.

I'm so good I can split a golf ball in half.

I believed him.

It was time for me and Elmer to head home. I wished him a good day and asked his name: Nate. He asked my name: Matt.

Elmer and I walked away. Twenty yards later Nate called out to me. I turned around. He flung a chunk of driftwood into the air about the size of bowling ball and then cast the rope dart toward it.

The knife split the chunk in two.