The temperatures spiked near triple digits this last week so I packed up Zephyr and drove to Santa Cruz. The drive was grueling as is usual now, but nothing a little Xanax didn’t improve.
Once over the hair pin turns of Highway 17 I smelled the ocean and all was saved. I didn’t tell Donna I was coming, which is easier. No incoming expectations on my part–no waiting, no arrival time. I went straight to the beach. Spring Break must still be on, because there were teens everywhere, but further down Santa Maria beach, off the rocks, the beach opened out and was clear, windy & supremely wonderful. Zephyr frolicked which left me giddy. Watching him having fun, makes me happy.
The waves whooshed up over my skirt and left me soaked. I would have liked to fall back into the water completely, but waves are overwhelming. The crashing ocean is an enormous wonder I have complete respect for, but it invites caution in me, not comfort.
I spent a month camping on the beach in southern Baja years back. I drove down with my then boyfriend, two dogs, a kayak and enough stuff to create a small village. My greatest memories are of floating naked on the calm bay, sprawled on the wet beach like a seal, scavenging for shells. I want to come back as a wild sea otter. Lapping in soothing waters would be heaven.
The rest of my mini-trip was okay. I sneeked out to have early morning breakfast at Aldos, just me and Zephyr. Aah. . . ) The best of any day is usually about me & Zephyr. On this trip it was also the water, ocean, sand & sea myst.