Gifts

By Ken Spencer



I am driving north up the Pacific Coast Highway. At night. In the rain.

You have heard of this road - it is cut out of the side of a cliff, hundreds of feet above the Pacific Ocean. In daylight it offers unimaginable views of ocean, sky, and the crashing surf at the bases of the cliffs ahead, as they appear and disappear as the road twists and turns following the mountains. At night it is unnerving. I had NOT planned on driving this road at night. It's all my fault, though. I am spending a week on a crazy thousand mile trip, driving around California, photographing the landscape. At every turn today I was given the gift of yet another spectacular view, of landscape, or ocean or tree or field. It was pouring rain leaving Santa Barbara, and within an hour I was soaked, even wearing rain gear. The landscape and trees in the rain and mist were impossible to pass by. So I stopped. And stopped again. And again. And now I find myself on the road I didn't want to be on at night. But then another thing happens - it becomes simply magical. The twilight sky is reflected in the wet road ahead, and off to my left, the sky, instead of being bright blue, is gray and black and misty, and behind the clouds the setting sun is reflected in the ocean. So I keep stopping and keep shooting. I am thankful for this magical weather, and the late hour of the day.

On my last stop for a photo, I stand by the side road watching the lines on the road reflect the last light in the sky, and just then a car appears from around the bend, headlights on. I wait for a moment, and then snap this. One more gift on a day of gifts.