Danger, Will Robinson!

Pacifica, CA
Outside of San Francisco

We are sitting on a cliff by the sea, and the inevitability of its collapse is weighing on my mind. The water is rough, pounding our cliff, and the winds are so high as to rock us from side to side, alternately terrifying and lulling us to sleep. It’s been like this for almost 48 hours. Last night the sign on the fence that said, “Danger. Do not go beyond this sign. Cliff is unstable,” blew off and fell into the sea.

I have already formulated a plan in my mind for escaping the bus and running behind it to move the car so John can back up in a hurry, should the inevitable happen while we are parked here, in the best and most treacherous spot in the park. We have a 180 degree view of the Pacific with no impediments, but that also means there’s nothing between us and the water.

A few years ago, the Pacific claimed an entire row of houses on the street next to our cliff. Now there’s a whole row of apartments a block down that’s been condemned, despite the fact that three times this year the town dumped mega-tons of boulders at the water’s edge. Obviously the sea will not be denied. Obviously there will be a year when our preferred spot at the water’s edge will be unavailable simply because it’s just not there anymore.

I just hope it doesn’t happen today.

The real culprit is the rain, which has been pouring down for not just days, but weeks. The sun is shining now, but the sky is otherwise grey and the fog is rolling in, as it has at least twice a day since we’ve been here. It’s just so San Francisco.

And now it’s raining. That’s all it took. One paragraph, and it's pouring again.

I think I’ll back up now. Why wait for me to prove me right. I don’t need to say, “See? I told you so” to myself, now do I.