Several friends had told me that Point Whitehorn is a magical place that can now be visited fairly easily. In recent days, I have longed to be by salt water again and so I arranged to meet a friend at the trailhead yesterday. There is a 3/4 mile trail through a lush forest of mixed evergreens and deciduous trees, filled with summer birdsong. As the winding trail meets with the bluffs, there are spectacular lookouts and finally a set of wooden stairs down to the narrow beach with its glacial erratics, cobblestones, massive driftwood and an abundance of shelters created out of smaller pieces of driftwood. The morning was windy and cool but not uncomfortably so. Only a few people had come to walk on the beach and look out at the expanse of salt water with islands in the distance. My friend and I talked through our masks This is only the third time I have arranged to get together with a friend since March, although I have talked at a safe social distance with friends and neighbors when I go out walking in my neighborhood. Point Whitehorn is a 30-minute drive from my home. My friend lives close to Point Whitehorn.
Looking north
Looking south
Looking up to see one of the many Bald Eagles
Returning home to where I continue to shelter in place, missing the presence of Oboe after having her lovely company for the past 15 years
I know I'll be returning to Point Whitehorn again and again. Beginning with my childhood in California, I have found shelter in the beauty of our mother earth.
Be safe. Be well. Be loved.
By going and coming, a bird weaves its nest.
-- African (Ashanti)
