Kite surfers

Last week my friend Brett G. and I drove my 109 up to Half Moon Bay to see our friend Brian H. We drove up Hwy 1 from Santa Cruz, and stopped at the Pigeon Point Lighthouse where I took a couple of pics.

After the visit on the way back we stopped at Waddell Beach and watched the kite and wind surfers, there was also a few hang gliders in the air too. The kites and such don't show up in the pics too well, but there was about 30 of them. In the last pic the point of land going out into the Pacific is Ano Neuevo, once home to a lighthouse and now an Elephant Seal preserve. The chalk cliff to the right of the 109 is called Big Slide, In the late 1800's, early 1900's a railroad was put thru here and at low tide you can somtimes see the old pilings sticking up thru the sand. The railroad effort was in the end fruitless because Big Slide kept doing it's thing and wiping out the tracks.

So it inspired me and I wrote this poem;

A burning sun slips into a golden molten pool on the far side of a wild, blue, Pacific sea.
As the skittish evening Northwest breeze pushes a silent wall of gray fog closer, ever closer to me.
A wall which hems in and frames the multitude of colourful kites sailing to and fro.
Like swarming insects above the poikilothermous creatures below.

To fly, be free, upon the water these graceful peoples be.
With taut lines the sails pull black suited humans quickly.
Carving out of Natures realm a space of temporary ecstasy.
Forgetting life's struggles of money, love and drudgery.

Quickly cooling sand once warmed by the sun entreats the oceans breakers to rest from their long journey.
Tall redwood trees beckon to the fog, one can almost hear them in voices raised by the wind.
"Come, Come water me"
Taller still the brown shale cliffs rise turning to gold in the light of days end.