I took the road east with the gravest of reluctance.  With the radio tuned to Hidden Brain and an Americana (hot) in the cupholder, I turned left on 92 in Halfmoon Bay, and the ocean fell away behind the city in my rear view mirror.

I had done what I set out to do.  I had wandered among the folks who frolic and fish on the Pacifica Pier.  I had walked on the edge of the world.  I had stood with seagulls, followed the path of surfers, and watched boats pull away from the dock in more than one harbor.  A few dollars fell from my wallet into the local economy.  I settled into sleep with the sound of the ocean outside my window.  The owner of a coffee shop hugged me after a two-year hiatus.  A waitress brought my coffee to the booth from which  I could gaze on the Pacific as I ate my scrambled eggs.

For a long time, I have felt the absence of something indefinable that I once cherished.  I cannot name that for which I so desperately yearn.  But as I drove down Highway 1 this weekend, I felt some glimmer of its return.  Something vague, and sweet, and serene wove  itself around my flagging spirit.  Like the people of the Pacifica Pier, who call to each other as they unpack their gear and scatter peanuts for the pigeons, I found myself suddenly feeling frisky.  As I sat on the rocks and watched the sunset at Rockaway Beach, I could have sworn that I heard my soul begin to sing.

It’s the twentieth day of the ninety-eighth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

There are 58 photos in this slideshow, ending with the sunset.  Enjoy.

Note: If the slideshow lags, click on the photo at which it is stuck to open that photo, and then close it again.  For some reason, that will trigger the show to resume.  My apologies for any glitches.