I’ve spent the past five days in Eureka, California with my best friend. We flew from San Francisco to Eureka in a small, 40-seater airplane. The engine roared as it came to life, rattling the body of the plane, warning me that I was about to shoot into the sky. Traveling in a small aircraft always reminds me of the feat of flying. Soaring above the clouds always reminds me of the wonder.
Eureka lies about five hours north of San Francisco, nestled in the redwoods alongside the Pacific. The air is cool and clean, the trees are lush. Pink, red and white flowers decorate the streets, which are lined with historic Victorian homes. It’s a quaint, laid-back little town. There isn’t much to do, but then again there isn’t much pressure to do anything.
One day, my best friend and I got some hot chocolate and drove over to the beach. We left our shoes in the car and walked in the sand. The wind and the sun beat against our faces. The hot sand caved in upon every step we took, wrapping around our feet. As we walked I wanted to lie down and bury myself in the beach, envelop myself in its warmth.
An abandoned tractor sits dormant near my best friend’s parents’ house. Berry bushes have grown around and within the tractor. Their vines have woven themselves into the crevices of the engine. Not far off there are two decrepit Volkswagen Beetles, also nearly consumed by the surrounding foliage. The last time I was here I climbed through the vines, conquered the thorns and sap, and stood atop one of the cars. This summer, we took my endeavor to a new extreme:
My time in Eureka was short, but it was better than no time at all.
I hope you spend some time with people you love this week.
Smiles and all the best,