One last trip to the ocean

I had the opportunity to make one last trip to the ocean. Returning from feeding my mother lunch one afternoon, I noted the marine layer (which usually socks in the coast around here) was absent today. My dad urged me to go to the beach to take the opportunity to see it in sunshine. So I did.

At first I thought I would walk along a pathway in a nearby estuary park, which has some interpretive signage along the way. It was here I was able to learn the identity of the bright yellow flowers blooming along the road I noticed last time: Giant coreopsis.

Apparently these flowers are quite rare, although they seemed abundant in the area, easily noticeable since they were in bloom.

At a distance, some double-crested cormorants rested on a log.

However, my estuary walk was curtailed almost immediately with a chain-link fence across the path and a notice of closure. No explanation was given, but it might have been to protect nesting snowy plovers. So I returned to the car (after noticing this California ground squirrel in the parking lot) and went to the beach.

The view was vastly improved in the sparkling sunshine.

I strolled alone the shoreline, beachcombing. One of the first things I noticed was the abundance of velella (also called “By-the-Wind Sailors”) washed up on the shore. Oddly, I saw none of these just a few days before. Now they were everywhere. Go figure.

A few treasures:

Top and bottom:

A stately seagull.

Another long-billed curlew. That beak is really something else.

While it was fairly common to see some dead barnacles on a sand dollar…

…this time I found some living barnacles.

Washed ashore as they were, these barnacles will die fairly quickly. So I yeeted the sand dollar and its companions as far out into the water as I could, fully aware it wasn’t nearly far enough and they would certainly be washed ashore again in short order.

I took one last look at the beach, then headed back up the path to the parking lot.

I was sitting on a bench, rubbing the sand off my feet to put my shoes and socks back on, when I noticed a man standing on a sandy knoll, gazing at the water.

Then he flung his arms up and over his head, slowly, several times. I don’t know if he was meditating, praying, having an exultant moment, or what, but it was kinda neat to see. Moments after taking these photos, the man climbed down from the knoll and went on his way.

And that was my trip to the ocean.

Source: http://www.rural-revolution.com/2025/04/one-last-trip-to-ocean.html