abbotts lagoon


On Sunday I woke up and just needed to leave.

I didn't know where I wanted to go exactly. North-- maybe. Near the ocean-- definitely. Somewhere new-- please. It had been a few months since I'd been somewhere completely unknown (to me) and my wanderlust was overwhelming.

After hearing so many things, I set out for Tomales Bay. I took a wrong exit, missed an exit, found myself on a two lane rode for miles without any radio signals or phone reception. It was perfect.

California is a beautiful place. Within that one road stretch I'd gone from meadows to redwoods to goat farms until reaching the tiny town of Point Reyes Station. I drove past that, too, in search of the ocean. I wanted to be near the water.

I drove by Tomales Bay but never found an opening where I could get near the water so I kept going. I eventually found a tiny trailhead in the middle of wildflower meadows. Two men sat at the entrance, eating sandwiches, ready to tell anyone and everyone about the wildlife at this place I'd happened upon: Abbotts Lagoon.

I don't know what it was, but I felt like someone else stepping onto the trail. I hardly go on hikes, let alone by myself. I had my backpack and water bottle and I felt like Dora the Explorer. The hike was short-- two miles of picturesque landscape and sunshine. At the very end of the trail, just as the lagoon ended, mini sand dunes smoothed out into a beach, the Pacific at the other end.

I once said that I was not a beach person (Katie knows what I'm talking about) but this was something else. It was warm, there were hardly any people, and a gentle salty sea-spray would sprinkle my legs every once in a while as I sat under the sun. It was just what I needed. It felt good to be myself again.

.content-inner #page, #content {max-width: 800px !important;}