Prologue: A Little Coastal Town Called Harmon Park

The yard light’s still on.  Still got time.  A solid leap to hop the fence.  5988.  Bike is unlocked.  You get a running start to get on as you get out on the highway.  A tough incline awaits.  Downshifting to 4, pedaling harder.  Standing up now, using all power.  The musles burn with each turn over.  The challenge feels great.  20 gears on this cruiser.  Almost there.  The top of the hill is in sight.  The slight breeze behind is encouraging.  A tiny glimpse of orange rises on the horizon.  You reach Chrissy Point as a beautiful bird flies up from down below.  It looks like an eagle.  It could be a sign of good fortune.  In mid-ride you hop off.  The bike slides into the gravel.  A guard rail stops a 100 foot free fall.  The binos are already in your pocket so you pull them out.    A short break is needed.  Anxiously waiting.  Nothing comes.  Nothing comes.  The sea is tranquil.  Below the vast ocean brushes the cliff wall.  Dawn is here.  Mesmorized, you look directly at the sun.  The magnification stuns for a few seconds.  Suddenly after readjusting the pod is spotted.  A lucky day.  One after another you gaze at their beauty.  Through the water they move so graciously with each large black dorsal dipping in and out.  One must have noticed you.  Out of the water he rises and crashes onto his back.  Your ecstatic! The picturesque moment is now engrained.  They pass by for their day’s mission.  You must get on with yours.  Only a few more miles.  The hard work is done.  Time to coast.  Around the bend you go.  19 and steamrolling down now.  You recall the time the speed made you nervous.  Not anymore.  A quick glance right at the cove.  Two sea lions fighting for a rock.  One’s got position.  He’s king of the rock.  You feel empowered by his dominance.  Moving on.   

Pulling into town now, the light turns green just in time.  Straight south down Coastal still.  Not early enough, the harbor is busy already.  “Good morning lad!” one of the guys yells from the dock.  You wave and smile back, feeling good and confident on this fine morning.  Time to speed up and show the guys.  They all watch and wave as you roll by.  Cat! A quick jerk avoids hitting her as she heads for the dock scraps.  A close call.  Reality check.  To the left the old fogies roll out of Seavers.  Morning coffee is over.  It’s too early for you.  An air-horn blares in the distance.  One boat is already out past Twin Stacks and near the lighthouse on Split Rock Island.  The wind pulls you a big whiff.  There’s nothing like the smell of tuna as the last dock approaches.  A captain flags you down and requests a delivery to Mrs. Beckett.  No problem.  It’s on the way, just a little ways east down Main right off the Square.  Pedal on.  The legs feel great.  Her house is approaching.  She’s already waiting.  Some Salmon for a donut.  Good trade.  A kiss on the cheek has you turn red.  Time for a thank you.  You look to carry on through downtown.  It’s still quiet, minus the clerk sweeping in front of a shop.  6:10 is still early.  The corner church with the tall steeple signals a left onto Nelson.  You race around the corner, just a few more blocks.  You see the crew is gathered and waiting.  Everyone is ready.  You’ve arrived.  The journey in is done but the adventure is about to begin.  Seems like a typical day but it never is.  You know why?  This is Harmon Park.

This piece was inspired by a narrative from one of my favorite movies, The Perfect Storm.   The intent was for it to be read and visualized like in the movie.