Three of us took off about 6:30 last night, heading up the cliff-climbing trail south of Muir Beach. We’ve had a wonderful 5 or so inches of rain the last 4 days with powerful storms roaring in from the Pacific, The night was clear, but the next storm was hovering, so the air was supercharged. Up at “my” point, a finger of cliff aimed at San Francisco across the water, the wind was howling. A thousand feet down to boiling foaming crashing waves on rocks. My chi meter was maxxing out. Talk about feeling good!
I was dawdling and my two friends went on ahead and of course my light goes out when I’m still a mile and a half from the inn. There was a 1/4 moon and barely enough light for me to stumble along the trail. I got into it after a while, my eyesight sharpened and pretended I was a coyote; they don’t have no stinkin lights! It was kind of a thrilling experience, what with the storm energy, negative ions — and lucky, because if the clouds had covered the moon I ‘d have been on a cold hillside on a black night with no idea of direction home. My guiding spirits pulled me through (once again, thanks guys!) and I made it to my truck and warm clothes, pint of Guinness and the lads at a candle-lit table at the pub.