SLO Pier

I remember the shell. Not too big, white and spiny with a lustrous, pink interior. Up close to my ear I could hear the ocean. This prized souvenir stayed with me for many years (I wouldn't doubt if someday I uncover it in a box tucked away in my garage), as did the memories of my childhood trip to San Luis Obispo. Years ago my mom's parents whisked me and my young aunt Jennifer to this coastal destination for a few days of sightseeing and exploration. Although I can't recall my exact age or how many days we stayed, I do remember walking on the Pismo Beach Pier, its giant timbers balanced over the sea. I spent my hard-earned allowance—probably a whopping fifty cents a week back in the 70's—on my treasured shell. My special purchase occurred right here, on this very pier.

Now that I permanently live a mere nine miles from this barnacled wharf, where tourists and locals flock daily to soak in the fresh ocean air, dazzling unbounded views and cool crashing waves, I wonder why I take this sacred spot from my early days for granted. Venturing here on Sunday was an anomaly for me. I left the out-of-the-ordinary heated temperatures of SLO City behind me, and drove south into the warm yet refreshingly cool, breezy Pismo weather. I found the pier alive with activity, with the festival Wine, Waves, & Beyond in full swing. This day brought a longboard competition on the south side, proceeds benefitting The Association of Amputee Surfers.

As the bullhorn sounded throughout the day, participants paddled out into the great beyond on their elongated surfboards.

Competitors rode choppy surf in windy conditions.

But the surfers made their mission look easy.

xxx

The churning, invigorating white waves made me feel as if I was missing out on a worthwhile endeavor.

Wipeout! Look closely for the flailing feet!

I felt safe and content on the shore, soaking up the view.

Later, as I waded in the crystal-clear, revitalizing water splashing under the pier, I thought about where I've been and where I am now.

I've come full circle. And I can still hear the ocean—even without my shell.