Perfect Day in Point Reyes Nat'l Seashore, CA

NOVEMBER 26, 2012

There is pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

- LORD BYRON, Childe Harold

Best day ever.  Hike, beach, ocean, yoga, outdoor meditation, bike ride, nap, tasty food on the cheap, quiet reading time, meaningful conversation, live music.  Today, I nailed it. 

Once again I was woken early at a hostel.  By 5 a.m. I had already thrown in the towel on getting any real sleep and was dressed an on my way.  With no map, no advice from locals, and no sense of where I was at, my plan was to find a trailhead and start walking.  During my meditation session the previous night the sound of waves were so loud and distinct that I knew the ocean couldn’t be that far away. 

The hike was a story of water versus fire.  The sky was just gray enough for me to head out without a flashlight.  There was no visible fog at the start of my hike, though there was enough water in the air and on the ground that every blade of grass, every leaf, and every living thing was soaked to the point of saturation with drops of water hanging in the balance.

Never before have I been made aware of so many spiders around me.  The water on the webs made them more obvious to an untrained hiker’s eye like mine.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of webs were the distinguishing characteristic of every hillside. 

Further on the fog rolled in but was immediately cut by the rising sun.

Streaks of sunlight were seen easily in the remaining fog.

As time went on, the sun’s usual path from to horizon to overhead was block by intermittently block by the water in the air that varied every kilometer as I went from hilltop to valley.  All the little critters began to stir.

So many times before I have blown down a trail like this, oblivious to all that surrounds me, focused only on my pace or heart rate or speed remaining slave to whatever my workout of the day was supposed to be.  Today I moved slow enough to see all those little things I would normally have missed.

Each time the fogline lifted I was treated to views on the surrounding bluffs

There were torched trees, serving as the trophies of a temporary victory of fire over water from a battle fought years ago.

But the biggest tree in the area seemed to have remained untouched and was the last major landmark before reaching beach.

For a while now the sound of waves in the background had been growing strong.  Here, I reached that break point. 

 

I threw down my yoga practice in the soft sand in front of the flowers and succulents growing beneath the backdrop of steep sandy cliffs.

Following the asana practice, I sat in meditation, trying to keep a clear mind.  Always easier said than done, I could help but open my eyes and turn around to investigate the weird child-like squeaking noises.  I would later learn that the sound is called “flushing” and the birds were California quails. 

During my yoga practice, the rest of the animal kingdom had clearly decided to wake up and start their day too.  Pelicans floated by impossibly close to the water without flapping their wings, while a camera shy seal took as much interest in me as I in him.

Little shore birds zipped in and out of the surf with a precision that would have without a doubt left me soaking wet had I played their game.

 

After a short walk around the beach beneath the cliffs, it was clear the tide was moving in and my yoga studio would soon be taken out to sea if I didn’t pack it up and head back.  

 

My training schedule read “short recovery ride” but the topography of the park had other ideas for me today.  The only route out included a huge hill.  Climbing was tough.  Descending was worse.  There are few combinations worse for cycling than a wet mossy road dotted with 17% Grade, Sharp Curves and Elk Crossing signs all in the same mile. 

And they weren’t kidding.  A deer seemed unfazed and I barreled by at 25 mph debating whether or not my speed and the sharpness of the antlers were sufficient enough to turn me into a human shish kabob. 

It was time to eat.  A lot.  The problem was that I hadn’t entirely planned on staying in such isolation.  Thanks to a well stocked pantry, also known as the cardboard box in the back of my car, I went Iron Chef and made curried lentils with avocado and cashews to cut the fire. 

It was in the kitchen where I met Ashley, the woman running the desk.  Over the next few hours I made a connection with her that I dare say will not be repeated with another human over the course of my travels this year.  As she sat there on the couch across from me later that night I had the most interesting thought.  It was one that had never really crossed my mind before. I was there in a blue hoodie, long wavy hair everywhere.  Ashley was mirroring me, blue hat and blue sweatshirt, wavy hair everywhere.  It started with the though she could have passed as a female version of me, like my sister, if I had one.  And through our dialogs about travel, nature and life’s struggles and joys, my thoughts went so far as to think that if I had a twin sister, this is exactly what that imaginary woman would be like.

With tired legs and full belly, my night concluded with four songs off Ashley’s soon-to-be-recorded new album, performed live right there in that living room.  Just for me.  Perfect end to a perfect day.