Carry On

Porter, Sky, and I hummed up to Point Reyes on Sunday morning. From the start, we were uncertain of where we were specifically aiming towards; Point Reyes is massive, including numerous hiking spots and beaches. Once we reached the general vicinity, we followed the beach roadsigns to an off road, marked with a stretch of cars parked on the shoulder. This will do, I thought.

Subsequently, we trekked down a two-mile path, which meandered under the tall hills and patches of slanted-tree forests. The trail spurred out to a thin beach, which stretches and curves up to the point. The water was tame, as packs of birds floated over the crest of the slow-breaking waves. Couples and families strolled by us sporadically. Overall, the scene was calm.

We proceeded to march down the strip and eventually settled down on a log washed up on the shore. I wrestled out of my sweatshirt and t-shirt and exposed myself to the sun. My companions appeared weary, from a combination of the hike, the weekend, and the completion of another week. With that, there was nothing to do but rest, and so we did.

The nature which surrounded me was unchanged, for the most part. Man had come and gone, and nature carried on. It’s beautiful being able to witness the same scene, which pioneers did hundreds of years ago. Obviously, that is not the case in most of the United States, but these unadorned spots still exist.

Nevertheless, it strikes me: I have come, and I will go. Most people don’t, justifiably, ¬†contemplate their departure, however, when one does settle on this notion, allowing it to sink in, acute, poignant feelings arise. It’s a forewarning, signaling an end is inevitable. We all recognize the cliche saying “all good things must come to end,” but not often do we identify that we, as well, are one of those good things.

Therefore, it shakes me up, accepting the fact that these waves will crash whether I’m here or not. The sun will drop off the edge of the Pacific Ocean, only to ascend back over the San Francisco hills. Sand footprints will wash away, only to develop again when the next group visits. With that, nature carries on. I shall, too.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s