There is nothing like time spent at the ocean to refresh and renew me.
The smell of the sea, the crash and splash of surf, its mist dampening my face, the wet sand under my shoes sprinkled with tiny white stones and shiny shells – it all blends into a world where nothing matters except the pure joy of the present.
The ocean is so huge, its presence so overwhelming that when I’m at its beach, I feel like a kid again out for a day of fun and discovery.
Monday, Columbus Day, Sweetheart Al and I drove to Goat Rock State Park in Sonoma County. This rugged beach just begs to be appreciated. Huge surf rolls into this stretch of sand and not far off shore, picturesque rocks the size of small mountains rise from the Pacific’s waters.
What surprised us Monday was that no one else was on the beach. No one.
It felt like we were the only humans on earth as we strolled the sand, picked up polished stones, and watched the waves.
The sky was clear. The slightest kiss of fog gave the place a feeling of mystery. It was as if a beautiful world had been created just for our pleasure, and we were unwrapping its delight as we walked along.
What do you do when there’s nothing to do but enjoy being alive?
I imagined that if we’d been dogs, we’d have run pell-mell along the stretch of sand, barking and wagging our tails. Maybe splashing a little in the leftover waves before they slipped back into the sea.
If we’d been gulls, we might have wheeled through the sky, cawing our delight.
But we simply walked, arms entwined, smiling and laughing and every once in a while, snapping a picture. What a morning!
The blue water glittered and swelled and lifted itself into waves that grew almost 20 feet high, then curled and pounded the shore in dramatic bursts of white. And we loved it.
Eventually, though, we headed back to the car, leaving the beauty and emptiness of the beach behind.
[note: The photo here was taken Monday at Goat Rock State Park]