And then there, right across my path, loped a huge coyote. He was so big, at first, I thought he was a wolf. Then I remembered wolves don't live in Point Reyes. He looked thirsty; we were into a long drought. He was walking, head down, in the direction of the point. There was that fresh water pond where the tule elk go.

A short way down the Tomales Point Trail, I stopped dead in my tracks. I could not believe what I was seeing. It was a long-tailed weasel! He poked his tawny head from a hole in the middle of the trail.

It's hard to imagine living here. The weather sweeps in and out uninhibited by this little sliver of land. The terrain is grass, grass and more grass. It's isolated by water on three sides. The people who lived here had each other and a lot of cows for company. I'm sure the solitude suited some, but others must have gone mad.

This brilliant spectacle was all the more poignant for its transiency. Heavy gray clouds began to darken the space.

What we have now is unfathomably beautiful. Each creature is a thread in the web of life. Each creature is perfectly adapted to its particular set of circumstances. No other creature could fill the Northern elephant seal's exact niche.

As we stood to go, I felt weightless. I had dissolved into the landscape. All that remained of me was an organic connection to the ways and means of sun, waves, wind and sky.

I discovered a piece of dried, white coral firmly adhered to a rock. Holding it in the palm of my hand, I felt privy to the secrets of a complex and intricate relationship forged beneath the sea.

A fresh water creek snaked its way to mother ocean: sweet and salty blending perfectly to create the cocktail for all of life.

I peeped through the gap between doors. The dusky interior looked mysterious and holy.

We were standing right on the San Andreas Fault.

It is wonderful to be alive and part of the living landscape

As I neared the top, Tomales Bay stretched in the distance.

After a moment, I realized staying was impossible. At this point I surged into survival mode.

Woodward Valley Trail was a billow of green, delicate grass filling the gaps and inviting a hundred-year slumber. Life's secrets surely reside in this magical place.

Seconds later I heard a gentle, "boop" right outside my tent followed by a point-blank scream hitting my head, entering my right ear and resonating to my core.

These little lakes are scattered like jewels along jaw-dropping coastline with nature's inimitable aesthetic of casual perfection.

The smell of decay hinted of strange life forms at home in these dense, dark waters.

The voice of the forest filled me. It spoke of beauty and belonging. It held me.

The eeriness was augmented by inexplicable artifacts strewn around the pasture. This seemed a good alien landing site. There was also something weird about the energy.

We encountered Redwood trees. Piro hugged one; we all let out a sigh, oxygen turned to carbon dioxide and carbon dioxide to oxygen, a perfect system.