Fort Bragg, CA
The waves were pounding at the foot of high cliffs. Out to sea, a lone jet ski towed a surfer into one immense swell after another. The surfer carved deftly across each face. To the south, rocky headlands stretched out to the horizon. I stopped to chat with two surfers watching the action from the clifftop, and we passed the binoculars back and forth between us.
The vegetation had changed from redwood and fir. One stretch of road wound by a row of enormous eucalyptus. Another ducked beneath a tunnel of cypress. In high spirits I walked along the wide shoulder, soaking in the views.
On the way into Fort Bragg, the shoulder became narrow and I was forced to dodge from side to side of the highway depending on the direction of its curve. A burned out home stood adjacent to the sign welcoming me to town. In the fading light, I walked along the sidewalk to the coffeeshop to catch a ride to my host’s that evening.