Life Below the High Tide Line
The king tides pummeling the cliffs of La Jolla Cove were the most impressive I'd witnessed in all my years living in San Diego. Of course, I usually head to the beach during the other end of the cycle: the extreme low tides that expose tidal pools filled with crabs, sea anemones, sea cucumbers, and lobster shells shed either naturally or by vicious currents. But that morning, with everything bathed in a celestial blue thanks to an impenetrable marine layer, we watched serious swells march toward the sandy beaches of La Jolla Shores. Closer to us, an inlet filled repeatedly with frothy waters while a gulp of cormorants (yes, I had to look that up) bore witness to the sea's incessant violence from a safe distance. There must have been hundreds of the black birds blending in with the dark, wet stone and dim light. Pelicans settled in on another cliff, recovering from their aborted flights in gale-force winds. They flew so close we could make out the veins in their webbed feet, fe...