The first time I visited Pt Reyes the local newspaper announced the cops had just arrested the clerk at the local Motel who had been working there for eight months. He was an escaped convict, a killer, I believe. And well beloved by locals
We stayed at the top of Drakes Summit, and looked out over Tomales Bay from the home of the local gardener. There were strawberries hiding everywhere from the deer but the copious netting she had installed did nothing but provide sculptural relief and the rummaging of deer and critter pals all through the lettuce leaves was part of the night song.
We, as a threesome, read the first Harry Potter book together, out loud. And then the succeeding books in succeeding years. Tony did a mean Hagrid and Sofie tried out Dumbledore a few times.
And then we stayed at an even more sumptuous palace where copper pans and chef priority stoves competed with a hand dug wine cellar for the finest of wines. Our hosts were in Cabo in August. It was too foggy in Pt Reyes.
Audrey, our dog, came with us and chased sea birds off leash at 7 in the morning on Limantour. Toby’s was really a Feed Barn and the Bovine was the place for morning buns and coffee. You had to dodge the horse shit that was outside the corner saloon because it had been full of ranchers and their hands all night the night before, the waiters only watching the tails swishing into dawn a few hours before taking their drunken riders back for a few hours sleep before they milked the cows, cleaned the stalls and the many tasks of ranching.
A few years into our visits, we discovered that the troop of dear friends from Los Angeles had homes up in this heavenly place. One family had had a house for years and the other pals built their dream house on the high acres over Nicasio. And we continued gathering and making life and beauty and memories . And we still gather to this day, minus 2 men who are enjoying triple cream cheese in the sky and many affiliates, children and beaus who have come and gone.
And I am here again. Solo this time. Sitting in a beautiful garden with its own memories, and I am walking new paths.
It’s not that we didn’t have picnics at Drakes every year for the last twenty and small children shivered as they ran into the fierce and friendly waves, but this time, the beach is swept clean with the winds and yesterday I saw the one lone large sub adult-. that means 3 year old- northern elephant seal that has thrown his exhausted hulk on the sand.
He just swam in from Alaska and needs a nap. And soon the females will show, and soon the beach will be covered in these creatures. Giving birth, fighting for territory, rolling over weanlings and then heading off again after several months of fasting, fighting and giving birth.
At the Lighthouse there are whales to count. Humpbacks now, but the Grey whales are expected soon with a spout or a tale. Binoculars to look through, wind to blow inside, outside and all around what was to bring me right now to what is. A gray coyote sits placidly near the Elephant Seal Overlook, happy to count the visitors .
I have been here before. More times that even I know. But I have been brought back by the benevolent wind. It still has things to whip up and make breathe.
What a time it is. This weekend murders in Rhode island, Bondi Beach, Brentwood. Soon the male elephant seals will whack chest plates to make themselves king as so many men we know.
I get to watch it. And leave beauty spooling out in the wind and spooling right back at me. I’ll let you know what happens.
