My friend says I'm like Harry Potter – that I have some magic spell to secret me away to mythical parts of the San Francisco Bay, much like the way Harry can run through brick walls at the train station and catch the Hogwarts Express.
She's not entirely off the mark. Slipping into the night and rowing into the dawn to the chant of oars, breath, and water can be spellbinding. It's simply as far away from the ordinary as one can get.
Witness last Monday's row. We headed out to the Gate on water that turned from silk to seersucker to roily knots of waves as we approached a dark wall of fog. Can you see it there in the distance?
We turned back not wanting to lose ourselves and then we did just that – lose ourselves, busting through that mythical brick wall into silence, light, and magic.