Hermosa

This is the second Hermosa Beach for me, the first in California in 2014, about 400 miles away from where I now am in Sonora, México. Hermosa means beautiful in Spanish, and it’s true. This playa la hermosa features a reef, and yesterday, while someone was stealing my shoes and shades, I saw a small sapphire fish, similar to the ones I saw in Puerto Escondido two years ago.

Two years on Habibi, and we’re still floating. Milagro. Miracle. And the shoes and shades were worn out. Still pissed me off, though no one will keep me from the Sea. Today, on my barefoot way to the ocean for salutations and ablutions, I saw a three-legged dog. “I had one too!” I told its human. She said, “They are troupers,” and I nodded. It was a real Emmett day; I’d just netted several dead fish from Habibi’s slip in the marina, and the pungent smell also brought a smile to my face. He liked to roll in expired salmon — so disgusting to me, so fabulous and alpha for him. Malodorous Malamute, truly.

The California Hermosa was taxing — too many people living too closely together. My rental was beneath a vacation place, super noisy. One night, out of desperation, I drove to Monterey, some 300 miles north, to investigate rentals there. Moved to Los Osos instead, on the central coast of California, because of a swim group and horse ranch. I have my priorities.

Both Hermosas facilitated healing. Back in 2014 I was recovering from a stretch of illness and homelessness. This time my home needs to be lifted out of the water for maintenance. On the hard, they call it, but it can’t be any harder than the learning cliff I’ve been rappelling. I always did like challenges, once I talk Anxiety down from her ledge. It’s so satisfying to actually survive them.

There is always something to worry about, but today, instead of doing that, I floated in a little pool with living fish. Small silver translucent darters. Slightly larger cruisers like sand paintings, or Anasazi pottery. Sometimes when I’m snorkeling they will nibble me, which tickles and startles a laugh or three.

High winds woke me in the wee hours, and it took a minute to realize I was okay. I am in a sheltered harbor, not in the Gulf of California wondering where to find a protected anchorage. The jib is still tangled and tattered, but we’re both upright. And that bijou blue fish… muy hermosa.