The Lost Coast is a land without internet. We showed up in early spring. The off season, when all the vacation homes were shuttered up.
The Inn where we rented a room was kept up by one woman, plus a teenager who came in the morning to run the coffee shop. We saw no other guests as we arrived. We were more likely to meet a whale, if we sat on our balcony and waited. They’d been spotted just earlier, the inn keeper said. Lore and suspense? Maybe. We waited, but no whales.
Sea lions and cormorants camped out on jagged rock. Like they owned the place. (They did).
The sound of the sea was constant and gushing. We slept with the balcony door open, salt mist lullabies pushing in. This is how to have a really good night’s sleep.
Prompt: “It’s All About the Journey. Where did you travel this year? Did it move or change you?”