Warning: This post has a lot of green in it. If you have an aversion to grass or pastoral photos, you can scroll down a bit to the sweet kayaking photos.
On Saturday, J and I drove to Marshall, California to go kayaking in Tamales Bay. The sky was clear, the water cold, and the tides difficult. We crossed the bay, ate lunch on the opposite shore of the Pt. Reyes peninsula, crossed back to check out some oyster traps, then struggled against wind and tides to return the boat within our 4 hour window. Next time, we’ll go during calmer waters.
Distant cows on the beginning of what would be an excessive amount of green, grassy hills.
Big bottles made of small bottles.
Shucking table overlook Tamales Bay.
Boat repair and graveyard.
A hull lot of shellfish.
The woman at the end of the pier.
In the middle of the bay.
Looking back from our lunch spot to where we started. Had we just paddled a giant half papaya?
Spanish moss? Verdad.
The sea was rough my friends.
One of many beached loogies.
Oyster bed indicators.
Keep calm carrion.
Old oyster related shed.
The dudes talk shellfish.
Under the pier and dreaming.
A seemingly picturesque road.
Ascending to the Clover Organic Dairy.
The road to manure smell was like something out of the movie Toys.
Green, grazing grassland.
Bessie the milk whore looks at me while urinating on a sloped pee drainage floor.
J smiling at me from our Volvo as manure dust blows into my eyes.
Cows descending a hill.
A pipe full of organic cow pee dumping into a massive pee lake.
Tick inside our car on the window.
A gaggle of turkey…vultures!
Our drive home would have been pretty if the ocean hadn’t been blocking the view.
This portly, scabby gnome needs to rest. On Monday I descend into to the salt mines in search of fame, salt, and corn money. First you get the corn money, then you get the women, then you get to go kayaking again.