It was a glorious weekend filled with family, hiking, nature, and phenomenal weather. This is from Friday evening looking west over the Pacific from way up on a cliff near Tennessee Valley Beach.
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The plastic under your belly is hard and warm from the sun, but the boat rocks gently, lulling, making it tempting to place your cheek on it and doze.The catamaran is quiet, the other passengers below decks showering or dozing - you have the deck to yourself, so you are lying on your front on it and the prow, feet kicking in the air while you watch the ocean.
The skies are clear and bright, but for a few scattered clouds, and the day has been warm enough your clothing is light and lets the scant breath kiss your skin beneath the cotton occasionally. Now the sun is starting to drop lower in the sky - it will not be long before night. Dusk is short and brilliant here on the eastern Pacific. On the otherwise flat horizon, you can see the rise of a handful of islands. Hard to work out which one is which, but the big one on the right you know is Darwin. You were there this morning, rocky soil and sparse trees. You spotted a red breasted finch on a spindly looking branch.
“Ray!” The call is heavily accented by the man at the tiller above you. He points, and you rise from your resting place to run to the rail. You can make out, below the rise and fall of the waves, the huge shape of a manta ray, presumably sunning itself in the last of the day’s light. It hangs, barely moving, as if by some sort of magic, as the sky behind you slowly turns orange, then pink, painting all it touches with light.
It will stay there as long as you need it, in this sunset on the waves. For the sea has always been there, and will always be, and can carry any memory you wish to exchange for as long as you would like as easily as any boat, while the mantas glide beneath them.