To the beach!

Paul and I couldn't ignore the call of nature this past weekend and, after a full Friday and Saturday of visitation with a good friend from Monterey and adventures at the farmer's market in Roseville, we decided that we needed to get away from the people and cars and asphalt. So, we made our way to one of our favorite beaches, Dillon Beach, just west of Tomales, CA.

Paul used to camp and hang out at this beach and the neighboring Lawson's Landing during his high school days in Marin. I was introduced to the locale much later but have taken almost everyone I know on the hour and a half drive through the dairies and farms of Petaluma to this little private beach. The drive is relaxing and scenic and, often times, as enjoyable as hanging out at the beach itself!

Sunday we awakened before the rooster, jumped in the VW, grabbed a cup of coffee from our favorite joint in town, and made our way to the coast. We got to Dillon's Beach before the gates were even opened; it was just us and the fishermen heading for Lawson's Landing. So we turned around and drove back to Tomales for another cup of coffee. As we sipped our brew we began to smell the fire about which the gathered locals were chatting. Napa and a great portion of Solano County were burning (and still are, even as I type), and fire engines from Sonoma, Petaluma, and Tomales screamed past us, north to the burning wine country. After a bit more absorption of local gossip and happenings, Paul and I drove back out to Dillon Beach to find the gate open and the ocean waiting for us.

While our visit to the beach was seemingly random, it was timed beautifully. The recent full moon had given way to one of the lowest tides I had ever seen. As we walked down the beach, we were greeted by rock after boulder covered in sea stars in brilliants hues of red, orange, and purple. The regular tide line, at least eight feet above our heads, was made evident by the dense thicket of mussels and barnacles that clung to the exposed rocks. We saw snails of every size and color and crabs that poked their tiny, purple heads out of the barnacled rock crevaces. Paul even revisited his childhood days of crabbing at China Camp and gently over-turned rocks in an attempt to find the little, purple crustaceans.

It was a very good day! We retired to our car, wind beaten and freezing (oh, the cold sea air!), and headed for our little house on the tomato field (oh, the hot valley air!). One day, way down the road, when we win the lottery (keepin' the dream alive, Sarah), Paul and I would love to have a home on the coast of California or Washington. I spent a lot of time as a kid sitting on the granite beaches of California. The sea air sets my head right, and I find all of life's trials easier to deal with after a visit to the edge of our continent.

Here are a few pictures from our adventures: