i send my SOS to the world- this is my message in a bottle. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Sound of the Sunset I went on another random, spontaneous adventure today. I headed down Highway 1, making full use of the break from yesterday's grey weather. The skies were filled with east-moving clouds from the passing storm, but above me on the shoreline it was wide blue. All of a sudden the road gave way to a dramatic view of the cliffs and an expanse of ocean bigger and wider than I can remember seeing in a long time. What struck me was that it was so visceral- it was a gut punch of beauty. The road hugged the cliffs and there were waves on both sides- the crashing of the surf and the rolling tide of greenery on the hills to my left. I followed the highway to Rockaway Beach in Pacifica, a quaint little block with kitchy, touristy stores. It was a little spot nestled in between jagged cliffs. The smell of it was so strong- that ocean-y, salty bite that reminds me of seafood, air and movement in a single breath. I pulled into the parking lot and took some pictures before making the aquaintance of two retired hawaiian fishermen- Frank and George. Frank worked for SFPD for 28 years and George works for the Muni. They smoked cigars and kept an eye on fishing poles that dipped into the surf, and told me stories. I stayed, listening, laughing and I plan to go back and visit them again. It was so nice and easy, just like the tone of the languid pace of the afternoon. If I could live another life and fast forward to retirement, I'd like to think that I could be that man, sitting on the cliffs with a fishing pole and talking to the people that make their way to me. I kept going down Highway 1 and antique planes from a show dotted the sky. The winding road led to Half Moon Bay where I sat in the sand and marveled at the fact that it was a real beach. The sand was soft and children dotted the tan dunes building sandcastles. I watched a couple stare into the surf, her arms wrapped around his neck from behind and it made me want to fall in love more than anything else. Enjoying these kinds of moments sometimes make me think how nice it would be to share them not with someone as a form of mutual memory, but with someone who would be just as excited for the same reasons, marvel at the beauty the same way. I drove North afterwards and took a dirt road to a little beach with still ponds of water. It was swaths of blue clouded, broken sky, restless ocean, a sliver of gold sand and then calm silk bands of pond water. I waded around in the cool water, letting the smooth current soak my feet. I hopped back in the car and rolled down the windows, letting India Arie's Purify Me play in repeat on blast as I made my way back through the thick mattress of trees and the blankets of water. I sang at the top of my lungs. I laughed and marveled aloud at the sight because it was too beautiful to remain inaudible. Almost an involuntary exclamation for all the wonder that I couldn't keep silent. My last stop was at a vista point at the end of John Daly Blvd, and I joined a group of onlookers to watch the sun dip into the ocean. The sky was almost an orange, like the color of my gun-show earplugs, which made the darkness of the ocean look like a violet. I couldn't help but remember a part in "The Truth About Cats and Dogs" where one of the characters tells another on a date, that when the sun sets, you can hear it. I know it's not true, but I strain my ears every time anyway hoping to hear it. It was a good day. 3:47 a.m. - Monday, Apr. 25, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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