Flotsam
The smell is overpowering, unpleasant at first. The smell of the sea, I expected, had heard described, but didn’t really expect the smell of dead fish or dying things. Or maybe I did. But after a while, your nose filters it out, or maybe it is just where I’m sitting.
I took a drive to Monterey Sunday, about 2 1/2 hours from Fresno. Until you get to Los Banos, the drive is mostly flat, sometimes peppered with farmland. Then the hills begin, occasionally bringing me to lip biting, as most people speed through the curves and hills.
There is the San Luis Resevoir, which is beautiful, and should be a day trip for me. Just tons of water nestled in between foothills, sometimes layers marking where water once had been. Beautiful, and even more stunning on the way back, as sunset begins, tinging the land and water in that golden color of waning light.
It’s probably not the best time to go to the beach here, so the sand is covered in seaweed. Later, I discover what must be the roots of the seaweed, in the form of bulbs. At first, they are disgusting. They remind me of slugs, a little. I spy something large and dead sitting near where I am, but I don’t investigate. (Later, I find that my eyes have deceived me, that it was just a holey rock covered in seaweed.) Everything washed up here is dead and dying. Empty whiskey bottle. A few guys looking like they live here.
Couples enjoy the sunlight, and a couple of small boys play barefoot in the sand. Sailboats on the horizon. A marina to the left spoils the view.
There’s a haze in the distance, across the shore. It might be a hint of smog I really haven’t seen yet. The haze I saw as I left the San Joaquin valley.
Waves break on the shore in the late afternoon sun. The sound keeps coming, so I can see how it is soothing, but I’ve driven 2 1/2 hours and what I could use is a bathroom, and less crashing water.
I’m sitting on a small hump of sand, ignoring my distaste for it, or what I might be sitting on. A little blond cocker spaniel puppy comes up to sniff my moving pen as I jot down thoughts in my notebook. It comes to see me a number of times in its curiosity, as I call it over. I wish I could have brought Merlin. I wish cats were like dogs only in that I wish they could be made to behave in public, to come back when they’re told, or tamely accept a leash. A lot of people have brought their dogs or their kids. It’s November, but it’s Sunday and it has the feel of a lazy, late summer afternoon day.
The smell of the air, I find hard to describe, once the fish smell is gone. Bitter? I don’t know. I’ve heard that salt water has a smell. Maybe this is it.
My first glimpse of waves crashing is about 14 miles back at Marina, actually, and they were more impressive, the sort of waves that help you understand why surfer surf. The waves that break here in Monterey are weak waves, the kinds of waves you’d expect getting at Lake Michigan. I get closer to the water, trying to take pictures. Wishing the beach is cleaner so I can take off my shoes and stick my feet in the water. As I get closer, the waves trick me, and come up much further than the rest, and I back up hurriedly, laughing as I try not to get my shoes wet.
Here are some pictures from the digital point and shoot. Yes, I vowed I wouldn’t use it. But yes, I couldn’t help myself.
A self-portrait in the sand and shadows.
What washes ashore
A view of weak waves
A wider view
Watch out for jellyfish
A view of the San Luis resevoir, on the way back.
Can I just say again how cool it is to be seeing what you see, and to be hearing your thoughts about all these new (and wonderful, and even weird) things? Makes me want to move to California, move somewhere at least one more time and go exploring myself. I really didn’t think I would say that a year ago when moving was the last thing in the world I wanted, but now I feel I’m ready to uproot again and just see what happens. I feel open to whatever, even if that means moving across the country. Do you feel liberated to be in California, to be out on your own and experiencing new things? It sounds like it here. . .
It is so liberating. And as a friend recently told me, he thought that at the Tribune, I would absolutely be the last person to ever leave. And a year and a half ago, he would’ve been right.
But I’ve done so much changing, which is a great thing! I love the growth that hopefully happens as we get older. I wouldn’t want to be the person of 10 years ago, or even two years ago.
Moving to California has been very liberating for someone who spent most of her life in the same little corner of the Midwest.
Let’s hope that Todd gets in somewhere cool, hopefully California.
I really never wanted to leave Michigan. I always thought it was beautiful, and comfortable.
It might be, but it’s like an old piece of clothing you can’t give up. It’s threadbare, comfy, fits you just right. But you’ve had it for 10 years and it’s full of holes.
Time to get some new clothes. Time to try something different, and exciting, like a color you wouldn’t dream of wearing, but somehow, when you get it on, it looks just right.