I am officially COLD. It’s a little after 9 am and it is only 53° outside. In Phoenix it is already 97, on the way to 113°. I am not complaining, just reporting.
I hear no gulls, no ravens. The entire Morro Rock has disappeared under a blanket of morning fog.
New campers arrived yesterday: several families with kids and dogs, a young couple with a pop-up trailer and bicycles, a mid-century couple with two fluorescent colored kayaks attached to the back end of their RV.
The man next door is by himself in a GMC Envoy towing a 26’ trailer. I watched him back in then out several times, unhitch and level his trailer, then sweep the white aluminum sides of the rig. This morning he has already swept the steps and smoked two cigarettes.
Across from me, the matriarch of the family hoists two navy blue suitcases onto the picnic table and pulls out a small pile of brightly colored kids clothing. A young boy about seven emerges from the trailer in superhero pajamas. The woman picks up the clothing and her Chihuahua and all three of them head toward the showers.
The father of the family returns from a walk with their other dog, a young white border collie mix with a red bandana around his neck. The man is wearing flip flops, shorts, a blue sweatshirt and a baseball cap. He tethers the dog to the picnic table, pulls his green camp chair onto a small, multi-colored striped carpet, then goes into the camper. He returns and sits down with a white ceramic coffee mug in his right hand and his phone in the left, oblivious to the dog who is now standing on the steps, half in and half out of the camper.
The sun has burned off much of the fog, revealing a clear blue sky and most of Morro Rock. A gull flies overhead, calling us out for a walk.