.........After little time, I came to a beautiful waterfall. It was
a resplendent
sight of an underground spring seething through the high ridge, falling as a
thin white ribbon. A medium size boulder was strategically placed by human
hands, no doubt to prevent deep erosion at the base. I sat on a redwood bench
and listened to the music of that morning as it flowed through my
consciousness, my eyes closed, savoring the images I replayed through my
imagination. The mind’s sight of a smell, a touch of the breeze, the echoes
of
love, unseen music of a violin was the source of my contentment. It truly was
a lush and sinless Garden of Eden. I decided to lay on the bench and took a
well-deserved short nap allowing the falling water to lull me to sleep.
When I arrived back at the campsite, no one was there. It was a bit of a
relief. I walked down the path along the river’s edge past a triple stand
of
redwoods tied to a common trunk, to a small beachhead of twisted redwood
roots that terminated at a stump right at the edge of the water. It looked more
like modern art than nature. I sat on the stump and let my feet overhang into
the water, watching the crawdads on the bottom and small trout suspended in
the small pool, lazily. I wasn’t there for more than five minutes when
I heard
a voice as sweet as the scent of licorice and honeysuckle in the air.
“Chris, are you going to sit there all day and stare at the water, or are
you
going to jump in with me?”
She was on the other side, making her way up one of the two large
boulders that sprang out, with a large flat submerged surface in-between
them. The water seemed deep here in comparison with the shallow
meanderings, both upstream and down. I was shocked at her entrance.
“You seem surprised I’m here,” she shouted from the rock, as
she
removed her sandals off and sent them flinging back onto the dry rocks.
“Let’s go, what are you waiting for?”
She jumped in headfirst wearing a tee shirt and short frayed cutoff jeans.
Her head surfaced quickly.
“Wow, this is cold, but it’s great.”
Not to be outdone, I stripped my shirt off and waded to a shallow rock.
“Just jump in!”
“No, I’ll think I’ll wade in slowly.”
“C’mon, just let it all hang out, baby!” She challenged.
I stepped carefully to the where the deeper water began. It looked like only
a few feet so I slipped in only to find that I was over my head immediately.
As
I came up, she was bellowing hard.
“Far out! Did you plan that for my amusement?”
“Of course, I did, couldn’t you tell?”
I made my way toward her and she opened her arms to receive me. We
kissed until we almost drowned, laughed and kissed again. We made our way
over the yellow and brownish algae-stained flat rock that was sandwiched in
place between granite boulders, submerged about a foot under the water, and
sat in the golden sun. She was radiant, her wet red hair glistening in the
afternoon light, and her smile beamed brightly as our eyes penetrated the
vastness of our souls. Her newly soaked white tee shirt was like a second skin,
revealing a wonderfully delicious braless bosom and a body to which my eyes
were involuntarily riveted.
“You like what you see, Chris?”
“I’m sorry, I…”
“What are you sorry about? You can look at me all day if you want, I don’t
care. You know you do something to me—and I can’t explain what it
is, but
I love it! I had to sneak out of that seminar just to be with you, especially
after
the way you got me to play like I never have. It was so intense and sensual.
I
want you to teach me everything you know.”
“Well, I can’t teach you everything I know, there would be no mystery
left, and you might leave me to find someone else.”
“Good point, I guess I’ll have to settle for what you’ll give
me.”
“You already have my heart in your hands.”
She paused for a moment.
“Do I really?” She softly asked as her head turned slowly towards
mine.
Our wet lips met and again my pulse rapidly rose, only to be interrupted by the
catcalls onshore.
“Chris! What do ya think this is, prom night?”
Tony and the boys were back and staring lavaciously at Angela.
“Those are your traveling companions, I take it?”
“That’s the infamous trio. Let me do the intros. Okay, guys, this
is Angela.
That’s Dave to the right, Tony the ringleader, and Chimp the surf dog.”
“Pleased to meet you boys,” she confidentially greeted them.
They realized they were being obnoxious and looked away, as Angela’s
assertive manner and exposed breasts were a little more than they expected.
Tony shook his head as he turned and blurted out, “Wow.” He pulled
out a
pack of Kool cigarettes and turned back to sit at the picnic table. The others
followed him back. We were thankfully left with only the sound of the
babbling stream. After a short while, other people arrived at the swimming
hole.
“Chris, my VW is parked back at the picnic area. I really want to go to
this
beach these hitchers told me about.”
“Hitchhikers? You picked up hitchers?”
“No big deal, just two guys looking for a ride to this beach. I took them
to
the top of the road that leads down to it. It’s not far from here.”
“I’m hip if you are.”
We headed to her yellow Volkswagen Beetle, where she pulled out a
couple of towels from the front trunk, and we dried ourselves and placed them
on the peck-holed vinyl seats. She started it up and we raced off. Sure enough,
not even a half-mile away was a well-concealed dirt road that angled steeply
downhill. We turned right blindly and swooped onto it. She didn’t hesitate
to
bear down on the gravel road that seemed to meet the wheels of the bug
headfirst. “She’s So Heavy,” from Abbey Road blared on the
radio. The harsh
distorted guitars harmonized with the shrill cries of the engine. We were
zooming from the force of gravity, past a twelve-foot high wall of dirt and
vegetation on our right, and a deeply cut twenty-five-foot gorge on the left.
There was room for only one small vehicle and we were in it.
“Jesus Christ, Angela! Do you know where you’re going?”
“Nope. Never been on this road before.”
“Never been on this road before?”
The redwoods to the left created a shady dark space that opened into an
extremely bright area that hurt our eyes, and Angela hit the brakes as she
couldn’t make out the dry, reddish, beaten road. Our eyes adjusted quickly
and the dust from the locked wheels created a smokescreen through which
Patton would have been able to command a division. As she slowed down, I
commented on the orange poppies, and some reddish-orange and yellow
flowers I had never seen before. That got her to ease up a bit, but she was onto
my game. She smiled a wicked smile at me, came off the brake and got up to
speed again as we zoomed past ramshackle houses and decrepit trailers
propped up on the steep walls on either side of us. There were cedar shake
houses with redwood shingle roofs dotting the canyon walls. We then
encountered another very shady area and again our eyes had to adjust. Her
right hand never left the three-speed shifter as she confidently took control
of
the situation and geared down. Turning, twisting, and winding and the dust
we spewed up was again thick behind us. We leveled out a bit as we slowed
to look at a galvanized metal-fanned windmill that was drawing water for a
horse farm thirty-five feet below. The right wall of the canyon rose up again
with exposed dugout washes, and large wooden gates with “No Trespassing”
signs attached prominently. Another series of winding turns, and we broke
into a valley of wild violets, and blankets of pink, white, and purple flowers
with shadings of every proportion. Angela tried to slow down to soak all this
in, but potential energy took over and we sailed by, despite her attempt. She
looked at me and I mocked her previous wicked smile, and she laughed
knowing exactly where I was at. We ended up at a circular parking area with
large cypress trees that guarded the beach head entrance. She skidded on the
dirt and came to a halt by slamming on the brakes and pulling up on the hand
brake at the same time. “All out for the big beach scene,” she said
as she
mocked a train conductor.
We gaily entered the cypress canopied, moderately worn soft sand trail.
Roots from these sprawling giants spread throughout the trail providing surer
footing. The path curved around in a double ‘S’ pattern, to a breezy
portal to
the beach and ocean. We crossed a small twenty-foot expanse of fresh water
that collected from all that was left of the mighty stream that had cut the
valley thousands of years previous. It was warm and shallow. We waded
through it hand in hand, knee deep. As we walked through the sand and came
up to the receding sea, I noticed peculiar reddish grains of sand in the gullies
created by the pounding surf. Pulverized rock mixed with white sand. The
most impressive thing that then came into our vision was a giant outcropping
of an arch-shaped rock, dead straight ahead. As we approached, we made our
way to the hollow inside. This huge silent sentry had three large caves that
ran
all the way through its center, light and waves crashing through, below the
bat-like stalactite thrusts of the dark ceiling. We climbed up on the rocks
leading to them, and let the outer reach of the incoming funneled wave’s
spray just barely touch us.
“Is this a wonderful place?” asked Angela
“Yes, it’s so beautiful,” I replied in awe.
“What kind of rock is this, Chris?”
“I think it’s some sort of lime or sandstone but it’s fused
with granite. See
the way the face is weathered? It’s rough, not smooth like granite, and
there
are a lot of craggy wormholes and cracks. Definitely volcanic.”
“Looks like it would be easy to climb.”
“Angela, look at that, a solitary plant in the middle of this huge barren
rock.”
It was another attempt at a diversionary tactic, however it was beautiful.
Its green thick petals were surrounded by a pinkish tip and white flowery
center buds. It looked like an aloe plant or some kind of succulent.
“It’s living regardless of the conditions.”
“Yeah,” replied Angela, “so why don’t we start living
and get climbing.”
With that, she began scrambling to the left side facing the ocean; and
despite my fear of never having rock climbed before, I followed, but slowly
and carefully. Her agile body could bend and twist at will, her sinewy tan
calves and thigh muscles reminding me of the timeless work of Michelangelo.
The rock was pockmarked, and it seemed relatively easy to find a place to
secure handholds and footholds to pull myself up. The lower areas, however,
were slippery from the waves. Angela had already climbed up the south side
and was heading for the center, above where we first stood in front of the
caves. The sea was very rough, and ten to twelve-foot breakers were crashing
treacherously thirty feet below. I made the mistake of looking down before I
could climb to the first ledge of stability. There was a sheer section that
thankfully didn’t last very long and I moved very carefully. My knees were
shaking.
“Are you okay?” The voice came from above. It was the voice of
reassurance that I needed. I couldn’t see her, but the voice gave me
confidence enough to stop my shaking.
“I’m coming up to the first level,” I replied.
“Take your time, I want you in one piece when you get up here!”
I made it up to the spot I was seeking, and noticed what seemed to be a
natural pathway of square, washed-out blue brick-like patterns within the
rock itself. A blue-bricked road along the side of a barren rock in the Pacific?
I looked back and the people on the beach looked Lilliputian against the
mighty sea below us. I noticed the terracing of the cypress trees that guarded
the entrance we had come through. The lengthy perspective gave the look of
giant steps leading to the sky between the canyon walls. I looked up at the
craggy distance I had yet to conquer. In this ancient rock’s face, I could
see
the millions of years of pounding this giant withstood, and the price it paid,
in its markings, cracks, and twisted sculpture. In time, the reddish grains of
sand would be the only reminder of the beauty it held.
“Chris, you’ve got to come up here, it’s wonderful!”
I inched my way up through the frozen gnarled volcanic putty all the way
up, until the view of the shoreline was pivoted away by the rock and only the
vast expanse of the blue Pacific was visible to the west. There she stood,
shimmering solemnly. There was a protruding flat, altar-like formation
naturally carved in the rock just before the plunging deathly drop to the sea,
and we stood there motionless next to one another. It was frightening and
electrifying. The distinct possibility of my imminent demise made me feel
completely alive. She turned and embraced me, I held her with all the strength
I had, and she moaned instinctively. “This is how I always hoped it to
be,” she
whispered.