"i parked my car at the mouth of the Bob Jones trail, anticipating my run along its winding trails to the quaint, sleepy town of avila. The fog hung on the oaks and the sun struggled to get through. Once i reached the beach, I ran past the many warning signs littering the beach accesses...."Tiburon....Water Closed....Shark". I made my way out onto the Avila pier, eyeing the swim bouy line just out from the shore. Paint chipped sail boats spotted the area right of the pier, one almost half sunk; an aire of a movie set. The fog stopped the sun from penetrating the depths of the crimson dark waters....red tide...a group of seals bubbled up at the surface, playing or feeding in the opaque stillness. time slowed a bit...I stopped myself thinking what was under the surface...and i made my way slowly to the car and back out to the sun...and memories of sunny waves and surf."