It looks like a wedge of day-old oatmeal. Santa Cruz has rides and things on its historic boardwalk. I get close, get frustrated by the traffic and the parking snarl and get out of there. Five minutes later, the coastline is back. Then it's gone.
Vegetables grow in fields right off the highway.
Eventually, I pull over. I ignore the warning, step over the rope and keep walking west. I start to hear the sound of collisions. I reach the end of the path. Below me is a small beach, framed by great stone walls being pounded by the surf.