Pacific Coast Highway

We headed north from Santa Cruz. I could see the Pacific peaking through trees as we made our way up the coast. Farms and crops dotted the shoreline. Low clouds lingered just above the tips of the hills to our east, teasing them with rain that won’t come. Now and then we’d come upon one of the many small beachfronts, or an outcropping of some cliffside and park. Cool air blew in from the west, off of the water. We watched kitesurfers near the western border of Big Basin. We studied tide pools at Pescadero Beach. We drove up to the southern edge of Half Moon Bay before we turned around to head back, stopping for dinner at the wharf. The sun set over the hills as highway 17 took us home, settling into hues of pink and purple and blue.

I will remember today for the rest of my life.