Sunday, August 30, 2015

Fog, Surfers, Sharks

Yesterday to the beach early so I could be home to sign away the best car I will ever own, the SAAB that lived here 15 years and that I drove only a few hundred miles. Fog so thick that figures emerged as fog-phantoms, but I could tell where 41 terminated by the sawhorse near the water. No Rock visible at all, even from where 41 came in. On the way north the fog lifted exposing out in the water a dozen figures, surfers. When I met surfers coming toward the water I asked. "Oh, sure, we like to go out when we can't see the beach." Well, half an hour or so later a great white shark, maybe a baby great white shark, took a hunk out of a 50-something woman's board there at Morro Strand Beach, a quarter of a mile further north. Harbor vehicle, right there, by chance, all sorts of help and any number of nosy Parkers photographing what was left of the board.

What if a peckish shark had disregarded the fogbank half an hour earlier when the surfers could not see each other and could not see the shore?

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