Pacifica

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Yesterday was an epically beautiful California day. But even given all of the beauty in the seascape and landscape, I was having a craptastic day. Mostly provided by Uber. About halfway through the day I decided to just head on down the highway, down the coast, in my rental car that in the four weeks that I had it, I had not yet used for my own travels.

When I arrived in the first town to the south of San Francisco, Pacifica, it was gloriously grey – grey sky, fog, grey and green water. Asian fishermen, and women, lined the pier with their poles. The color, the weather, the surf, suited my mood.

Somebody caught a stingray and hurriedly unhooked it, sending it back to its watery home. The person who was concerned about the stingray didn’t seem as concerned about the fish flopping, gasping for air, in the bucket next to him. What’s the difference between the stingray and the fish? Don’t they all deserve saving. I considered for a moment grabbing the bucket while the fisherman was distracted and dumping them all back to their homes too. But I didn’t. It made me feel more shitty.

Whales spouted just off the pier, although it wasn’t the time of day for feeding or breeching. A woman told me excitedly about how the whales had been hanging just off the coast there for a few weeks now. That made me hopeful.

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