22.05.12
By Frank Frost
Christian crested the last hill on the yellow dirt road, wrestling the wheel on the old ruts,
coming over the top unexpectedly, and suddenly the whole blue Pacific smacked him in
the face, forcing him to pull the old Jeep to an abrupt halt and confront the visual impact
of half a hemisphere receding into the distant haze to the west. From here there was
nothing but ocean until Japan, seven thousand miles away. He was up over a thousand
feet here and the steepness of the slope almost gave him vertigo, looking down at the
blue-green sea crashing against the cliffs, miniature waves at this distance, he couldn't
even hear the surf.
"Came over the mountain? That's a hard drive."
"Well. I'm sort of taking other roads these days. More interesting."
"There's your coffee. Here's the sugar. Oops, it's empty, just a second..."
"It's okay, really. I don't take sugar.
Source: Santa Barbara Edhat