Cabo Epiphany


In October of 1995, I was on a trip to Cabo San Lucas with Karina, a fellow surfer/skater and new bohemian of the highest order.   At 10:30 one evening, we hiked a half-mile down a desolate beach to reach "Lands End", the actual geographic tip of the Californias.   A unique spot where sixty- to eighty-foot granite spires, fins and elementally carved monoliths of bedrock shoot straight up from the coarse sand a few yards from the sea, looking like great dinosaurs frozen in time, yet intimidating at night via their abrupt prominence, shape and the eerie shadows that they cast in the full moonlight.
We climbed to the top of one that provided a decent ledge upon which we perched.   From this vantage, the glistening Pacific sparkled iridescently directly in front of us, while the Sea of Cortez was a stone's throw over our shoulder.   The surf was huge that night; fifteen-foot breakers thundered on the beach directly in front of our site.   These waves erupted with such unimaginable force that they actually shook these great million ton slabs of granite as though they were made of balsa.   With every wave that exploded like a muffled cannon blast near the base of our seat, a 3- to 4.0 mini-tremor was felt.  
As the full moon rose to its apex, the celestial firmament of stars was as spectacular and breathtaking as any Hollywood special effects wizard could envision...and better still because it was real and not some computer illusion.   Millions of crystal clear laser beams cut through the night sky with clarity and precision.
As we huddled, completely awestruck by this inconceivably gorgeous and breathtaking display of Mother Nature in full force -- full moon shining brightly, stars radiating, waves exploding, land shaking -- without warning we were struck by something not of a physical nature.   I surmise few have been fortunate enough to imagine in this life a nirvanic moment wherein a profound sensation came over both Karina and I as though we could...