With your buildings and your eyes
Autumn woods and winter skies
You move me
You move me
Open sea and city lights
Busy streets and dizzy heights
You call me
You call me..."
–Rush, Analog Kid
Earlier in the day, a park docent told us that the Tule Elk were primarily from the Central Valley and were nearly wiped out. Two pair of mates were brought to the Point Reyes National Seashore where we were on this trip. Those two pairs eventually because over 600 elk in the area. But he told us that we may not see any unless we hiked a few miles up to the north end of the park.
What my wife Amy wanted to see was the sunset and it was coming fast. We decided we wouldn't make it in time doing a hike to the water, so instead, drove back along the road to the top of the highest hill, turned around, and parked on the side of the road. That's when we saw the Tule Elk grazing. One of them looking up, watching us intently, but then continued to graze.
It was the last hoorah before school year started. Our kids Beatrice and Bryce stayed home to hang out with their friends, and Amy and I took off for some together, just the two of us. Now that the kids are older, and not like we were when we were young (thank goodness), we've been taking more trips without them. It's great, especially now that Beatrice is driving. They take care of the house and our pets. Of course, we miss them, and they miss us, but adulting is here to stay. Yeah! That continues to be an interesting new phase in our family's lives and one we embrace fully!
Point Reyes and Inverness where we stayed were spectacular. Only three hours from us, it's a place we'd never been to before. Another highlight was hiking down to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. And then back up again. A very steep 313 stairs plus another 50+ feet of pathed path with guardrail fencing on either side due to the sheer drops of hundreds of feet down the cliffs into the ocean. It's also the windiest and foggiest location on the west coast, and although it was very windy, it was clear and beautiful. The "caution" sign at the top of the stairs started with the warning "The 313 stairs are wicked hard."
The stairs weren't that hard for us, but the vertigo was. We dubbed it our Angels Landing, because we actually finished it. If you’re not familiar with Angels Landing, it’s an iconic rock formation in Zion 1,500 feet tall with a hiking trail that does not have any guardrails, just heavy iron chains bolted directly into the red rock for hand support. That's it. Amy and I attempted it in 2007, nearly making it to the end (or midway, we were never sure). The fear of falling kicked our butts back down to ground level.
I have a fear of heights, and yet I always challenge myself to do activities that include heights. Why? Because I don't want to miss out -- and it always freaks me out -- and I still do it. Same with Amy. Neither of us could finish Angels Landing, but we finished the Point Reyes Lighthouse climb. I stayed focused on the stairs, held onto the guardrails, and never looked down the cliff side.
It was worth it. In the nearly 30 years I've been with Amy, I've learned that everything we do together is worth it, strengthening our bond exponentially. Even if I balk at first. I didn't think we should park on the side of the road to watch the sunset because I was afraid we'd startle the Tule Elk bulls and they'd rush our car, which they can do during mating season.
We didn't startle them, though. We stopped and sat in stillness watching the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the Pacific. The Tule Elk silhouettes in the distance soothed us. One of them looked up toward us and then continued to graze. We smiled and touched hands, feeling blessed by another majestic moment together, one of millions stored forever in our hearts. We missed our kids, but we know we've instilled in them the same love of moments like these, receiving hearts from them when I texted them our pictures.
