Sweet Tide

My Pacific Backyard

The long, lazy swell finds the crescent sands with a wide, white frothy smile

She’s in my backyard, this Pacific Ocean of mine. A mere ten-minute walk from my brown little cabin. And most days, some Pacific miracle or other knocks on my door. Look at me! Look at me!

I believe not a few people drive half a continent to see this (more than half a continent away will, to save on gasoline, presumably drive east to visit the Atlantic).

Were I an amazing swimmer, and were I to head out due west and swim and swim and swim and swim I’d eventually make land at Shiranuka, Japan (cheered by a huge crowd of admiring Japanese fans who will have followed my marathon swim on television for the last, well, months if not years or so, I guess).

Okay, a little carried away here, but this just to position my little cabin on the world map, so to speak.

Mid-April this year, I set out on my 9th spin around the sun here in Crescent City, CA. Strange. It feels like one or two, at the most three, but time is running away with me and shows no signs of tiring or slowing down — rather the opposite.

When first I saw this beautiful stretch of the Pacific Ocean and realized that it would constitute my backyard, I wondered whether I’d ever tire of the view, grow jaded as it were with this wet wonder. Bored with all this ocean. That didn’t happen. It has retained the power to enchant, and for that, I am very grateful.

For the first two years, I brought my camera along on my walks, but not so for the last six. The first two years yielded enough pictures. I have plenty now, gigs worth.

Like the one above, the one where the Pacific smiles.

To remind me how incredibly lucky I am.

© Wolfstuff

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