Summer to Fall: The Bay is Changing

My view of the earth, the part I can see from my chair here, is turning gradually away from the sun.  The sun, a blazing mass of hydrogen with shooting tendrils of gas that arch far out into dry cold space, is roasting our blue planet wherever it shines.  I hear it sizzle if I listen.

I am riding the grand blue ball eastward, feeling the cooling breath of twilight ahead.  Across the way, a short distance from my window, the last light of the evening is setting the leaves of my neighbors' trees aflame with light, a searing light beaming horizontally, parallel to the street.  The wind has died down for now, and I can hear the din of distant waves kicking up along the long curved shoreline.

Yesterday, we stood on Monterey State Beach and watched the sweep of waves bubbling and foaming back and forth across the tanned, curvaceous swells of packed sand.  They eddied back out again in wide ripping currents that made an effervescent hiss.  I felt an increased intensity of energy in the sea, building and changing with the season.  It's a mean ocean, beautiful as it is.  Tons of water, undertow, cross currents and riptides must be watched as well as wind gusts, logs and kelp washing in and out of the water's edge.  Those who are lax or inattentive are sometimes lost.

We parked above the beach, strode like giants down the steep dune to the more level beach below and then headed north, eyeing the waves, running for higher ground when they rushed up to us.

After a few miles at a steady pace heading north on the wet sloping sand, we trudged back up a steep dune and looked back to take a look at the vista spread before us.  The water was a dark titanium blue and a bobbing cluster of small fishing boats out in search of sea bass were collected a mile offshore.  Waves' constant muffled low roar was the voice of nature in full cry.  A scuffing wind made small white crests, brisk enough for small sailboats to keel over before it.

One man, dwarfed by the vista and expanse of ocean, stood alone below us, a solitary figure, buffeted by the wind.  He looked ahead to the tossing seas and boats, alone with his thoughts, with the elements of nature constantly jostling for his attention.  Tides and bright sun never leave you untended, always demand your respect.  You may seek solitude in nature, but, unlike a place built by people to segregate, silence or confine, nature is always vigorous and stimulating in constantly changing ways.

A Sign on Easter

Brilliant rays of light gleamed off the ocean and sand, but they were quickly shrouded in the clouds of an approaching storm.  In the space of a minute, the morning was flooded briefly with intensely bright sunlight, as if beamed straight from heaven.  Could have been a sign from God, but maybe that was too obvious.  Something more coincidental happened just then.  

I was walking on Cannery Row early this Easter morning.  Assuming you've read novels by John Steinbeck, you know that this very street was the heart of a busy industry of canning, shipping, packing and supply companies, all intent on canning sardines.  Now there are tourist shops and, at the far west end of the street, the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  Just east of Prescott where it Ts into the The Row, lies a vacant lot that's surrounded by chain link fence and littered with broken bottles and weeds.  On the sidewalk outside the fence, in the dust and debris was, literally, a sign, right at my feet.

The canneries are all gone, but they used to stand along what was then called Ocean View Boulevard.  The buildings that housed them for about 40 years were stinky, noisy and dank.  Older local residents remember the cannery days very well and say, "It stunk to high heaven."  But they remember being called to work by the loud whistle that blew when catches of the silver fish arrived by the tons on fishing boats.  It was hard work and shifts ended when the last fish was cooked and the last can was packed and sealed.

The sardine industry went bust, and one by one the buildings were shuttered and stood vacant.  A few bars and odd concerns remained, but mostly there was rust, boarded windows and cement foundations after fires burned through.  I saw one of the shuttered buildings go up in flames.  The fire raged, lighting up the night like a huge torch.  Arson was suspected, of course, but nothing happened.  What remained was an ugly remnant of former boom times, and people began to look for renewal, an end to the blight.  1984, the Monterey Bay Aquarium opened, and since then The Row has risen phoenix-like from flames, rot and ruin.

Change has occurred slowly.  The sun bursting through storm clouds this morning was instantly symbolic of the renewal and change along the Row.  Today is Easter, a Christian holy day signifying rebirth, the energy of spring, and resurrection.  Coincidentally, there in the sidewalk was a reproduction of Easter brand sardines packing label.  I don't know that I would have made the connection between urban renewal and the resurrection of Christ but for the sign embedded in cement at my feet.  Seeing it, the connection was obvious.  All I needed then was heralding trumpets and angels singing for it to have been truly God sent.