Week 2: Getting to the Point

Writing my spiritual autobiography for class got me to thinking about some of the times I felt most at peace, most at one, with the universe and whatever power may be responsible for its existence.

Sometimes it was the little stuff: sitting inside on a wet winter’s day with a bowl of warm tomato soup, listening to the pitter-patter of rain on stone; lying on the dew-moistened grass of a baseball field, staring up at the stars and discovering that, in reality, not a single square inch of sky is dark; waking up in a foreign bed in Tahoe, anxiously awaiting breakfast because it marks that bundling up and playing in the ethereal white powder will shortly follow.

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a bit of a nature boy. As much as I love the sights and sounds of the Quarter, my two favorite places in New Orleans are Audubon and City Parks, hands down.

Of course, every now and then such enthusiasm can reach an extreme, to the point that my decisions may seem a bit crazy to the outside observer. One such instance occurred just this past summer, in fact.

For months before flying back to California, I had been looking at Google Maps and following the various cities along Highway 1 (which runs pretty much along the coast from Orange County to Mendocino, for those who don’t know). Maybe someday I’ll actually take the road along its length like I planned, but with the price of gas the way it is, it’s becoming less and less likely.

In any case, as I was staring at the maps, I noticed the peculiarity of the land surrounding Tomales Bay. In particular, the Point Reyes side had a sharp point at the bay’s inlet named (oddly enough) Tomales Point. When I got back to the Golden State, all I could think about was what it would be like to stand right at that point. So I decided to find out.

Long story short, none of my friends wanted to come with me, so I just went by myself. I packed the necessary provisions, including a dinner (figuring that I would make it back to my car by dinnertime, but probably not back to the house), drove to the trailhead, and set off on my adventure.

Words alone can’t do the experience justice. Even these pictures are, at best, close approximations. All I can say is that it is, to this day, my favorite trail I have ever hiked. With Tomales Bay on one side and the Pacific on the other, walking along the sheer cliffs makes you feel like you’re on some unexplored island. Plus, it’s smack dab in the middle of a Tule Elk reserve.

I kid you not. Elk.

I got to the very tip of the peninsula (I’m talking close enough to feel the spray from the waves), where I sat down to eat my dinner and revel in the glory of nature. For my meal I had hastily roasted some leftover tofu and baked a sweet potato, storing both in plastic containers that did nothing to keep them warm and only made them soggy.

I’ll tell you, that was the most delicious meal of my life.

Of course, I was so infatuated by the experience, that I had failed to notice it was nearly dark. And guess who forgot a flashlight. I was forced to guess my way back in the dark, just barely able to make out the grey outline of the trail. But you know what? I really didn’t care. I was on such a high that when I tripped, or went the wrong way and had to retrace my steps, I was just happy to be there.

In the end, I managed to find my car and drive back to the house, with little to tell of my adventure but the dirt on my pants and shoes, my dull soreness in my muscles, and the memory of the whole experience seared into my mind.

Was it reckless, potentially dangerous, poorly thought out? Probably. Was it worth it?

Absolutely.