Last Sunday morning we left from Castro Valley and headed north along the coast – but first we needed to go over the Oakland Bay Bridge (think earthquake), pass Fisherman’s Wharf and then the Golden Gate. Gray clouds rolled across the sky, covering the city in dismalality (I just made up that word.) The wind whipped across the bay and tourists huddled as they took pictures at the park.
But it was the ocean and it was beautiful. We headed down the trail to the Point Bonita Lighthouse, watching the waves smash against the rocks and explode in a clouded mist. The endless ocean stretched out on one side of the trail, the city on the other. A tunnel was carved in the rocks to reach the lighthouse point.
The brochure says, “Discover Point Bonita’s wild landscape, geology and fascinating history. A secret jewel of the Bay Area, Point Bonita is still an active lighthouse.” (The lighthouse was built in 1855.)
Alas, not on this cloudy Sunday morning. In fact, we didn’t even see a glimpse of the lighthouse. The tunnel was locked and our only option was to retrace our steps.
Yet, how many mornings in a year do I get the opportunity to walk along an ocean path?