I exit the 280, heading directly into the beckoning mountain range that cradles the highway.
The road winds under eucalyptus trees that cast long dancing shadows over the dull concrete. It leads me to the mountain peak where I finally am able to glimpse the ocean coating the distance in deep expansive blue.
The air becomes cooler, slightly salty even, as the road leads further west.
I park where I always do - next to the farmstand with the sweetest strawberries, and walk past the alpaca and horse that eternally sit in that dull small pen. Once reaching the water, I scramble down the sandstone cliffs covered in ice plants until my feet are immersed in the smooth yet coarse sand.
As I walk along the beach, a veil of haze coats the distant shoreline, stopping where land meets ocean. Amongst the steady sound of the turbulent water, the pounding of powerful fifteen foot waves will occasionally reveberate through the chilly air. The sound exists slightly delayed from the moment the water curls over and plummets on top of the deep turquoise water. This contagious energy flows from one wave to the next, scattering millions of water droplets in space.
Some water sprints up the inclined shore and melts into soft tracts of white foam that sand pipers and seagulls dance around. They silently prey on crabs and other organisms hiding within the sand’s pores, coated in forgotten crab carapaces, stray kelp, and fragmented shells.
