It was one of those days when the ocean reminds you who’s the boss. Two miles away the air is already full of salty spray. The breezy morning is now a blustery afternoon. The clouds are threatening to punish me for my sins. My bike’s chain is squealing and jumping. The blowing sand has conquered what was left of a long over-due lubing.
Finally I reach the parking lot. The ocean is angry. The wind is fierce. I abandon the bike on the wet sand. Standing at the end of the continent I wonder once again what I’m looking for.