Make no mistake about it--my feet are firmly rooted in the black soil of eastern Idaho, within sight, on a clear day, of the Tetons to the east and the Lost River Range far across the Big Desert to the west.
But now and again, the ocean beckons.
Possess the slightly twisted desire to stand barefoot in the surf line and watch as the ocean tries to claim me, slowly but deliberately, from the comforts of dry land. Many times I've stood in wet sand and slowly sunk up to my ankles, wondering just how long it would take for the sea to bury me whole.
Weird, I know.
I'm headed to the famed East Cape of the Baja California Sur this week--the fishy denizens of the Sea of Cortez have taunted me since my first brief visit a handful of years ago. This week, I will cast to them in earnest. I'll battle the southern wind, spot for roosters and jacks in the surf and happily take what comes, even if it's nothing much.
And I'll get my feet wet.