Sausalito Naval Anchorage Ten, CA
After a beautiful harbor tour of San Francisco Bay at dusk, we came to anchor in Sausalito next to the largest private sailing yacht, Maltize Falcon. It is now dark and there is an orange glow highlighting a tower of smoke coming from the NE side of Angel Island. Not even an hour ago, we were passing that spot and there was nothing to note except the currents and depths for our boat ops and hiking tomorrow.
It is a guilty feeling, observing the prettiness of the sight, knowing that grasslands, eucalyptus trees, and other life are suffering. Even as I type, the smoke tower is fattening and the color is sparking into the sky. By the end of this typed line, flames are crawling over the crest and peeling away the silhouette in waves of silent orange ferocity.
There is one small light on the dark SW side of the island – an emergency vehicle with possibly the only two people living on the island. They are far out-matched and probably looking on helplessly as, once again, Nature reminds us our humility.
I have never seen red flames before, but as I look on, the leeward east slope is evolving into the redness of a New England Maple in October. I have never seen a volcano erupt, but that is what I am reminded of as I watch the flames leap up and creep sideways downhill.
The smell on the cool NW breeze reminds me of comforting evenings in late autumn and throughout winter around the hearth with my family, snuggled with my dog. I recollect summer days by the lake with friends, songs, and marshmallows. It’s baffling that distance can so distinctly diminish pain and even trigger pleasant memories.
In the tranquil Bay water, moon jellies gently expand to their fullness, as does the moon, which will be full tomorrow. The San Francisco skyline is lit up in the distance. The mood is serene. There does not appear to be any panic or concern on their part. Their purpose is unaffected by the wildfire on Isla de Los Angeles. Life goes on.
After a beautiful harbor tour of San Francisco Bay at dusk, we came to anchor in Sausalito next to the largest private sailing yacht, Maltize Falcon. It is now dark and there is an orange glow highlighting a tower of smoke coming from the NE side of Angel Island. Not even an hour ago, we were passing that spot and there was nothing to note except the currents and depths for our boat ops and hiking tomorrow.
It is a guilty feeling, observing the prettiness of the sight, knowing that grasslands, eucalyptus trees, and other life are suffering. Even as I type, the smoke tower is fattening and the color is sparking into the sky. By the end of this typed line, flames are crawling over the crest and peeling away the silhouette in waves of silent orange ferocity.
There is one small light on the dark SW side of the island – an emergency vehicle with possibly the only two people living on the island. They are far out-matched and probably looking on helplessly as, once again, Nature reminds us our humility.
I have never seen red flames before, but as I look on, the leeward east slope is evolving into the redness of a New England Maple in October. I have never seen a volcano erupt, but that is what I am reminded of as I watch the flames leap up and creep sideways downhill.
The smell on the cool NW breeze reminds me of comforting evenings in late autumn and throughout winter around the hearth with my family, snuggled with my dog. I recollect summer days by the lake with friends, songs, and marshmallows. It’s baffling that distance can so distinctly diminish pain and even trigger pleasant memories.
In the tranquil Bay water, moon jellies gently expand to their fullness, as does the moon, which will be full tomorrow. The San Francisco skyline is lit up in the distance. The mood is serene. There does not appear to be any panic or concern on their part. Their purpose is unaffected by the wildfire on Isla de Los Angeles. Life goes on.
