A few days ago we went to Point Loma. Its the furthest most western point of California and therefore was a major part of the war effort, and the place where they watched for the Japanese in the First World War after the attack on Pearl Harbor. As you drive up the hill all you can see is rows and rows of military graves, and I couldn’t help but think if you had to be buried somewhere then buried watching out over such beautiful ocean wouldn’t be half bad.
You can stop half way up the hill and go down to sea level; we did and played around in the rock pools. We waded out to the rocks and played around in the water, it was so lovely to be the only three people in such a quiet and thought provoking place. We stayed there for about an hour; me and my Auntie perched on the side of a rock and my sister fishing in the rock pools for crabs, fish and other interesting creatures.
It was so pretty and the rocks looked like they’re designed by some clever interior designer, not faded from decades of the wind and water hitting the surfaces to shave it into tiny little shelves; layers of sandstone and intricate horizontal lines.
The lighthouse at Point Loma was interesting too; before the war effort it was manned by one solitary family who kept animals and used the rain water for drinking. They had two little children whose lives were spent carving wooden toys from logs to keep them occupied, and the family dedicated their live to ensuring that ships were guided easily into the by and sailors didn’t lose their lives on the treacherous rocks.
I found it really interesting to see how people lived their lives in centuries past and if you stood still enough you could almost feel the previous people around you; the hustle and bustle of soldiers moving equipment with the fear of the Japanese attack in the air, or previously the little children who made those quiet little rock pools their entertainment for the day. It was pretty humbling.