Yesterday, for the first time in my 4+ years in San Diego, I made my down to Black's Beach, which was... an adventure. I was not put off by the rampant nudity quite so much as I was by the gods-cursed cliff I had to traverse to reach the shores of nakedness. The journey was staggering - literally. The path was uncomfortably steep and covered in fine sand, making it rather difficult to navigate in Rainbow sandals. I huffed and puffed and forced myself down the treacherous path, slipping more than enough times for my peace of mind to be shot to hell. I made it, however; my thighs were shaking and my body was mass-producing sweat, but I made it.
A mere snippet of the "stairs" that lead to the beach.
And a shot of just how steep the cliff really is.
Now, something you must know about me before this tale progresses: I am woefully out of shape.
As I mentioned above, I made it down the cliff with relative ease; there were a few moments when I worried about the strength of my ankles, and at least one where I was certain said ankles would break and send me crashing down the rest of the path, but I made it down with both intact and still capable of supporting me.
I found my friend (a difficult process, let me tell you, when you're busy trying to avoid looking at certain body parts. I had my dark sunglasses perched firmly on my nose and concentrated on gazing at the sand beneath or the waves crashing on the shore. Seeing things was unavoidable, of course, and I became desensitized after an hour or so, but the first several minutes spent searching for my friend was a lesson in the social gaze that none of my Communications have been able to impart nearly so effectively) lounging in the sun and plopped down next to him with relief. After stripping down to my bathing suit - I'm no nudist - I stretched out on my towel and spent the next few hours luxuriating in the sun's warm embrace, occasionally reading from the novel I'd brought with me (Henry James' Portrait of a Lady) but for the most part, I dozed. This is important to note, reader. Be foreshadowed.
At about 5pm, Ryan and I packed up our gear and headed back toward the path. The passing of a few hours either played tricks on my infamously fabulous memory, or else the journey down was truly deceptive, because when we reached the foot of the path, it appeared steeper by several degrees than it had been at 12pm. I dragged myself up some yards, then stopped doubled-over, trying to catch my breath and rest my legs. Ryan patiently waited as I panted heavily; once I felt slightly more assured that my heart would not fail on me, we started again. And we stopped only another couple of yards later. The steps are high and the portion not covered in stairs is practically perpendicular. This time, I waved Ryan ahead, sensing that he could go up and down the path twice before I would manage to haul myself up.
All the while, as I dragged myself up a few feet, then stopped to take an extended breather, I contemplated various other ways I could get up the path, none very feasible. My heart was racing and I was short of breath the entire way up. I had to stop frequently, or else I would have collapsed (of course, had I collapsed, I might have been carried up the rest of the way. Don't think that I didn't consider that option; my dang pride kept me from crumpling, however).
By the time I'd finally hauled myself back to the top of the cliff, I was fresh out of breath and energy. I hugged a nearby wooden post for dear life, eventually sinking down and leaning against it, for fear of fainting and tumbling back down the way I came. I kid you not - I was very, very certain that my heart was about to give in and give out.
It didn't however, and after collecting myself, I struggled back to my feet and toward the parking lot. By this point, Ryan was heading toward me - I'd taken so long he must have been afraid I'd died out there.
Once I reached the safety of my car, I chugged down half a bottle of water and flopped wearily into the driver's seat. I cranked on the AC and peeled out of there, Ryan buckled safely in the passenger seat. I had two resolutions - 1) get the hell away from the cliffs and 2) never return to do anything beyond sight-seeing.
After I had dropped Ryan off at his apartment complex, and reached the comfort of my own (never had I been so happy to see Archstone!), I willed myself up yet another set of stairs and finally reached the cool sanctuary of my apartment. I downed a second bottle of water and ate some fruit and yogurt before I felt anything close to human again.
The food and water made me feel a little more positive about my chances of surviving a shower; after stripped down to my own nude self (I'm only a nudist in the comfort of my bedroom), I hopped into the shower. The water bit into the back of my legs, calling my attention to what turned out to be a nasty sunburn on not only my legs but also my back. I failed to reapply sunblock as thoroughly as I ought to have and as a result, my legs were (and still are today) a world of pain. My right thigh was also incredibly sore (apparently I use my right leg more than my left when I descend and ascend cliffs of doom). Steph, luckily for me, is no stranger to sunburns; she usually has bottles of aloe vera lying around and was kind enough to supply me with one to soothe my misery. After I had smothered my backside (not my ass, mind you - just the greater part of the back of my body) in aloe vera, I laid myself gingerly on my bed and read the rest of the evening away.
Today, I woke up. I ate breakfast. I fell back asleep. I woke up again, ate lunch, and then forced myself to stay awake, though I felt more exhausted than I had when I'd fallen asleep. My legs are still crying bloody murder, demanding me for a reason why I'd let my body fall into near-decreptitude. My burn was improved but my thigh was agonizing me, attacking me with waves of guilt for my past as a couch-potato with every move I made.
The good thing, I suppose, is that I am now encourage (nay, forced) by my own body to hit the gym more often. Perhaps several months from now I'll be willing to return to Black's, able to climb up and down the cliff laughing all the while at its pathetic attempt to intimidate. For now, however, the score stands thus - Black's, 1; Hanna, 0.
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