Last weekend we ventured down to Pacifica, a small, sleepy beach town just 20 minutes south of San Francisco. It’s one of my favorite places along the California coast, mostly because hardly anyone goes there despite it being so close to the city. It’s covered in a thick blanket of fog most of the year and doesn’t have much going on typically except for a handful of surfers who brave the cold water to catch a few waves. Crab carapaces, pelican feathers, petrified wood and other treasures wash up on the shore when the tide recedes, making for some good beach combing. One foggy day, I came here and a 100ft blue whale had washed up. She was a mammoth of a creature, hit by a ship I later learned, then washed in with the tides.
On this day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the temperatures plateaued in the high 80s (unheard of around here). We played in the waves and ran along the beach, dangling bull kelp behind us for Jack to chase. Then we met a friendly basset hound named Marco and buried Jack in the sand. We went home salty and happy and ate fried chicken and salad (they cancel each other out). In other news, we’re waiting to hear back on whether we will get this great place we viewed. It has 900 sqft, hardwood floors, big closets, a claw foot bath tub and bay windows that let in lots of sun light. We’ve been scouring Craigslist since we’ve been back and this one would be perfect. Fingers and toes crossed!