Lone Gull

Ann and I decided to try to institute a monthly field trip to do some plein air painting. On the way to Bodega Bay today, we established that most people can be divided into two categories: mountain people and beach people. That's not to say one can't enjoy both, but most people can definitely say right away which one they prefer. Ann is a beach person, and she is my teacher and friend, so we went to the beach.

We arrived as the fog was receding and the extraordinary colors of the cliffs, the beach and the sea were showing themselves in perfect light. We spread out our paints, easels, lunch and assorted other belongings, took some pictures, had a little discussion about what we intended to do, and headed in opposite directions to paint our chosen seascape.

As I was concentrating on painting a long, rocky coastline with many inlets backed by dramatic cliffs, I began to realize that the view was becoming less long. The fog, which we thought was receding was actually coming in, and soon obliterated, bit by bit, my long view and Ann's beautifully colored cliffs topped by wind sculptured cypresses. A man came by and asked if we were trying to imagine the view we were painting.

We ate our sandwiches, hoping the fog would recede once again, and I decided that a misty view of a single group of rocks out in the water was just about my speed, so we went back to our painting, but the fog was relentless, and we finally admitted defeat, hoping we could finish what we had started with the help of our pictures. Ann, ever hopeful that she could do a small oil painting, started laughing, and said I should take a picture of her easel with canvas, set up facing a solid wall of fog.

We packed up our bags of paints, paper, jackets, trash from our lunch, cameras, easels and stools and repaired to the car and the sunlit hills just a few miles inland from the coast. We may not have produced much, but I learned a lot, and we had fun…

The West County, as it is called, reminds me of the Highlands of Scotland, with cows instead of sheep. It's rocky, grassy slopes and sparse farmhouses and barns are windswept and isolated, but all the more beautiful for that. And I'm sure we'll be going there again, although it is impossible to predict the weather, the light or the temperature. As I said to Ann,--it's all part of plein air painting….