When I was a little girl, my father took us on what we
called “Special Days.” With six children, it was difficult giving everyone
equal attention, but these one-on-one experiences became my most treasured
memories with my father.
As 2012 came to a close, I adventured around Dana Point with my eldest daughter, Katherine. Since she attends Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts and just came back from a semester in Edinburgh, Scotland, I can not get enough one-on-one time with her.
My two younger children were with their father, so I could travel without too much worry.
Together we explored one of my favorite places in Dana Point
that I had never taken
any of my children: the path along the Dana Point
Headlands. We went further than I had ever gone and I literally scampered up
the hill to get to a spot where I had a good view of the beach where I would
walk down innumerable stairs to get there. I saw a parking lot where it never
existed when I was a teen.
The beach itself was still remarkably beautiful, nonetheless.
I said to Katherine, “Let’s go to the harbor and see if there is any sort of boat ride we can take.”
Believe it or not, in all my years hovering around Dana Point, I had never been out on the ocean in a smallish boat. I have been on a cruise, but not on a cruiser of any sort. We got a choice parking space – another rarity – and discovered there was a whale watching tour leaving within moments.
This must have been the day for scampering because my feet felt covered in feathers as I floated up the plank leading to what looked to me like a very full boat.
Katherine and I laughed, both of us decreasing in age with each step.
No seats were left so we took a place along the railing at the front of the boat and held on.
Once out of the safe haven of the harbor, the waves pounded the boat. We sliced through them, again holding on – “This must be what surfing feels like!” I said to Katherine as I tied my hat to my head. Even with 70 strength sunscreen I wasn’t chancing sun on my face, especially as salt water splashed up from the errant waves.
Slowly the people in front of us opted to move to the back
and after getting soaked through on this very windy December day, we followed
suit and actually found seating on the top deck with a family from Texas.
“We all help each other,” our captain told us, “if you see a whale, I heard one was coming this way from Newport Beach, please let the rest of us know. We are, after all, tracking a wild animal remember.”
It all sounded so mysterious and wonderful as well as holding a small container of concern for the whales whose path we were entering and probably annoying. That container grew as our trip continued. I was grateful when we turned to play with a pod of dolphins who truly enjoyed our presence.
Mostly, though, I enjoyed being with Katherine as we watched
and waited. People were intent on taking photos but for once, photos didn’t
much matter. I just wanted to feel the feeling of being on the water, of
sharing this experience with my daughter, of getting to know these first
moments at sea intimately.
Its been almost two weeks since then and I can close my eyes on this chilly gray Bakersfield morning and feel the warmth of the sun upon my nose rather than the shivering wall of fog it is now encountering. With a bit of focus the fog clears and we are back playing with the dolphins once again.
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© 2013 by Julie Jordan Scott
