The Bays

The last year that I lived in Santa Cruz, I was preemptively sad about leaving the ocean. I took a rowing class in the harbor, I took a single surfing lesson, and I went swimming/wading in the ocean every single day for five months. Sometimes I brought my camera and took pictures of the sand, of my legs in the sand, of Monterey, even though I already had identical pictures, just because I felt so lucky to be there. 

And moving away was hard. But I went back this weekend, and I found that I didn't like the traffic and the shops and the population very much. I went to the beach closest to my old house, and ran into my old housemates, which was lovely. I wanted to visit a particular sea cave that probably holds fond memories for every couple in Santa Cruz, but at 5pm yesterday it was only accessible by swimming or by climbing sheer wet stone, so I just sat on the rocks next to it and watched the water. I felt sad that I live so far from the Monterey Bay, but not as sad as I anticipated. 

When I got home, I worried that I might miss the San Francisco Bay someday, so I set out to enjoy it. I didn't enjoy growing up here, but that's not Alameda's fault. It really is pretty. I drove out to the naval base for letterboxing at sunset, and it was really nice. 

I didn't find the letterbox. I did find a huge amount of plastic trash that looked interesting, but it was getting dark and I was pretty far from my car so I didn't investigate it properly.