Last one at Beacon’s. The swell had dropped to only waist-high, but the sun shone bright and the morning remained windless.
I stayed out until I was finally cold and so tired I fell off my last two waves. So long, San Diego…

I finished my book (The Magician’s Nephew by Ann Patchett – recommended) before the SF-Arcata flight, which left me free to watch the sunset from the plane. Brilliant orange and pink streaking along the horizon. Why do sunsets and full moons still impress every time?

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