My Personal Ode to the California Coast

how many times have i been up and down the California coast and yet these jagged rocks aren't any less impressive on this umpteenth viewing. this coast never changes. there are always heavy winds when i get out of the car, and my hair blows every which way, and i struggle to see the rocks for the sunlight glinting off the water. always i can hear the ocean breathing, it's waves rushing and crashing and rolling. no, this coast never changes, only my state of mind does. i've traveled the coastline with many different companions over the years, at times feeling vulnerable, at others impatient. this time i felt neither. this time i felt loved, and like all the time in the world was mine.

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inevitably the road winds away from the coastline and through overgrown farmland and abandoned stables that once were worked but now stand untouched by all but those who crawl or lope. cobwebs crop up, moss thickens, grass sprouts with wild abandon. on each drive through this landscape i marvel that people used to live here and that some still do. this is not as untamed a wilderness as other parts of the united states but it is a wilderness nevertheless, far removed from california's hustle and bustle. 

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structures like these are california zen. this: a non-denominational chapel meant for individual prayer and meditation. please respect it's sanctity. it makes me wonder, did a lifetime of california living birth my non-denominational spirituality or is it a happy coincidence that my heart feels thankful that places like this exist here? this chapel is dedicated to the memory of a young navy aviator, artist and zoologist, and designed by james hubbell, a self-proclaimed leader in the use of green building materials. this space couldn't scream california any louder. it is maintained; it is pristine.

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i don't know why i was surprised to learn that california has a lost coast. isn't it just like this cheeky state to have a twinkle in its eye? here: sunrise on the lost coast at shelter cove, witnessed on the side of a cliff.

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after breathing the sunrise in on top of the cliff, we climbed the stairs to the beach below. i walked along the beach with j and my two favorite quadrupeds. the sand was not fine or worn but black with rocks and strewn with groupers. sigmar and sophie bounded up, down, and around the rocks like native mountain goats. they bothered the seagulls, disrupted the tide pools, and rightly avoided the colony of sea lions sunbathing on the more immersed rocks offshore. all the while, i inhaled the salt air and enjoyed the warmth of the sun as it fell that very particular way upon the beach, unadulterated and so very golden.

SoCal 2013: Chasing Gulls, Waxing Sentimental

I stood on a sandy shore in Malibu this weekend, my toes digging into the soft sand, and couldn't help thinking, hey man, my life is pretty groovy. Behind me, my best friend and her husband were enjoying the shallow waves crashing into the shore and J was running around terrorizing filming seagulls in slow motion.

We were all having the kind of day that is only possible when you make no plans and let the universe lead you from one serendipity to another.

We started out taking a casual stroll through Gardens of the World, where we found an extremely harried little squirrel trying to collect materials for the harshest and coldest of SoCal's 65 degree winters. Imri pointed out flowers and smells that we would otherwise have passed over, and I attempted to get my iPhone to bokeh, with some success.

We covered the gardens in a hearty twenty minute ramble and were left wanting more without having a clue as to where to go next. Dror threw out the possibility of checking out the Getty Villa in Malibu but all the time slots for the next four hours were already booked. Instead we thought we'd check out West Lake, rumored (by Dror's dad mostly) to be a hidden gem in the Westlake Village hills. Siri informed us that the lake was nearby and we drove to it, but we could only gawk at it from the safety of our vehicle because the man-made lake is surrounded by a private community in which you may not park just to access the lake. Thwarted, we decided to drive around the surrounding hills and canyons to find a hiking path to meander on. We did that for about a half hour, driving further and further up and into the windy canyon, until we were forced to give in to the fact that there were no public hiking paths on this road and that we might as well just continue driving until we hit the beach.

That's how I ended up wistfully wondering how in the world it was possible to have such a pleasant day in such ideal company while waves crashed at my ankles. It truly is a shame that this kind of day cannot ever be a regular occurrence. To bring the four of us together takes a 15 hour flight from Israel and a six hour drive to SoCal. Dror tries to make the flight at least once a year but it doesn't always happen; the last time we saw each other was October 2011. Imri usually stays in Israel unless a special occasion brings him to the States with Dror. Yet here we were, getting on as comfortably as family. This was J's first meeting with Dror and Imri and only my second time spending time with Imri, yet I felt like we'd all known each other forever.

The day ended all too soon but will be one I'll remember for a long time. Maybe it will be more special to me because it is such a rare occasion, but also I think it will be a glaring reminder that I am extremely lucky when it comes to meeting and keeping quality people in my life. Here's to many more rare days together, dear friends.