There is something magical about sunsets at Rincon. They air hangs heavy with sea mist and steam rises from the neoprene soldiers marching diligently up the point. Barnacle covered cobblestones guard entry to the water and lay obscured beneath the surface like land mines laying in wait for the naked flesh of a land lovers foot. It's ok, not epic, but wait, thats a set coming in, oh shit it's closing out the river mouth! I watch as a couple dozen frothy bodies paddle south as though their lives depend on it. There minds calculate the speed and direction needed to make it over the wave, duck dive under it, or better yet flip under the lip just as it pitches on a finger of sand and stone stretching to the freeway.
It's these in between evenings that really make it worth all the hustle and bad vibes that seem to be more common this winter season.
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