Winter night beach

It was wonderfully refreshing to walk bare-headed on the wet beach in the early darkness. The feeling of rain and wind in my hair was lovely.

The promenade was nearly deserted, and I almost turned at the pier. Then I decided to walk out along the wet wooden boards after all. The tide line was about halfway along the dock. I wanted to get close enough to smell the salt and hear the breakers slap the sand.

When I came abreast and paused to hear the waves, I pulled on my lined gloves before walking on. The sound of the breakers faded behind me, and instead of their glowing white spume I looked out over smooth dark water and noticed a slight movement.

Gulls -- about twenty of them, sat in a silent flotilla, riding the small swells up and down. They were almost invisible in the dark.

At the far end, I paused to look down at the breakwater -- a wall of rocks that protects the jutting boardwalk and the small dock with its pleasure boats from the potential rages of the sea.

I looked along the small boat dock, with its row of pleasure boats, sails furled. Facing seaward, they floated quietly under the four orange dock lights. At the far end, a square blue lantern flashed.

As I was leaving, I glanced back once again, marveling that similar waves on the edge of this same sea are even now pounding the warm sands of Puerto Vallarta. We have walked so often barefoot in the early tropical darkness. Night beaches are magical.