From here you can hear the hollow bark-barking of sea lions coming from that tiny rock in the ocean. You see it? The sun poking a hole through the clouds has illuminated it, for the moment, in a spotlight.
There is a trail that runs parallel to the railroad tracks south of San Clemente's pier and sometimes the trains come while you walk. First, they hoot and toot to warn the unwary off the tracks. Then they clatter and rattle and whoosh in passing. Through the windows you see holiday travelers on their way to any number of beach cities or commuters who prefer to avoid the infamous Southern California freeways. I like to look in the windows and wonder who they are, and I'm sure those who gaze out are thinking how grand it would be to be walking along the shore like me.
There is a strange phenomenon that occurs along a stretch of sandstone cliffs, eroded by wind and water and topped by bushes and trees and lots of houses with Spanish-style tile roofs.
As you pass them, the waves swooshing to shore and back on the other side of the railroad tracks get caught in some magical alternate space so that the echo of their swish and roar seems to come from the cliffs themselves.
This is a beautiful and magical place. And I get to go there this week for awhile. I'm going to inhale salt air and watch the sun sink into the sea and eat chowder. I'm also going to work on finishing my novel, Sea Daughters, which is partly set here.
So, my friends, I expect to be unplugged this week. I don't even know if I will check e-mail. We shall see where the magic takes me. See you after awhile!