Coyote Running

I do this thing I call Coyote Running. I try to mimic as well as I can the easy loping gait of a coyote trying to get somewhere. Trot is the right word. I like to trot. I like it even better when I can follow in the footsteps of actual coyotes. Coyotes know the easy route.

You might say, " Well, that's just jogging."

You may be right, but coyotes don't jog. Jogging is something humans do, which explains why it looks so awkward. Everything we do is awkward.

Coyotes don't look awkward at all.  When I'm Coyote Running, and I'm doing it right, I can run forever. I'm breathing easy, with good legs and rythym with the landscape.

Today, I went for a coyote trot on one of my mystic beaches. It's not my beach, physicaly, just spiritually.

It had been four and a half years since I've been here, and I was excited to see if the magic still held. And of course, it did.

This island beach is not that easy to get to. It's not the Copacabana, its just some far flung sand spit that is home to coyote, sand verbena, and lots and lots of sand on the western edge of Mexico. The locals have presence here occasionally, but most have better things to do.

Which is why I love it. Its pretty much been left alone.

It's one of those places where if you stand still in the middle of the dunes you can't hear anything. Certainly nothing man made.

I made my way across the island through the dunes. When you run through the dunes, it helps to take a river like approach and take the easiest path. It's not a straight line, but it is an interesting one.

When I reached the Pacific, I crowed in happiness. I was back! I was home! I was playing on one of my favorite playgrounds in all the world!

And it was beautiful.

When the sky is overcast, this place gets more stunning. And today, was such a day.

Treasures:

Lots of interesting shells.
Good reflections.
A beached sea glove.
Seaweed that I was tempted to sculpt with (next time). Coyote prints. My inspiration.

I trotted a couple miles. I swam in the wild Pacific and body surfed four waves. I crowed again! I walked back down the beach, and over the dunes, vowing to be back every week.

Tonight, I topped off my mystical experience with a pistachio paletta from La Fuenta ice cream shop in La Paz. 

This whole country seems to be saying, "Welcome home, amigo."