Baby Firsts: The Beach

As you may have guessed, this blog entry is about Gwenivere's first time at the beach. But it's not just any old beach. It's Refugio Beach.

It's THE beach.

The beach I was practically born at. My parents discovered the little bit of heaven a few decades ago and we've been vacationing at it every year since.

My love for Refugio runs deep-- countless memories of small, unimportant things, like eating red rope licorice on the 1 hour 45 minute drive up the 101 freeway; that first glimpse of the ocean on our route up the coast; pulling into camp and rolling down the windows just to smell the clean sea breeze; sitting around the campfire and having marshmallow roasting contests; going on nature walks; hiking up to the point at the far end of the beach; walking sandy-footed into the camp store to buy Abba Zabbas; being chased by the waves; making sand sculptures; getting sun-burnt; cleaning the tar off our feet with lighter fluid; hearing the freight trains screech along the rails above the campground-- not to mention their squashing the pennies we put up on the track; discovering the tailless feral cats in the reeds by the estuary; laying on the beach at night to watch the stars... The list goes on, but needless to say I was very excited about bringing Gwen to my "home away from home".

My Refuge.

Scoping out the view.

With Grandpa.

And Grandma.

And Aunt Carolyn.