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Going to the Park

Life wasn’t all indoors. I spent a good deal of time out and about.
Usually an expedition would start in the alley space in back of the apartment.  A back stair led to an exit that opened directly into that courtyard-like area. Not much was there, just well trampled dirt and a garage, the doors of which we never saw open.
A narrow alley led from this enclave out to Leach Street, a tree lined affair with little traffic.
My destination from here was the park – Forest River Park.  I could either wend my way over using the streets and sidewalks, or follow Leach to the end and the ocean.
The shoreline there was not of your surf and sand variety.  Surf there was, but it was all rock, no sand in sight. Actually it was more of a breakwater, for the protection of the homes with the views looking out to sea.
I would pick my way across the rocks until a cove or inlet broke in on the shoreline. At this point I had two choices, either curve around the rocks to the pebbly beach at the apex of the cove, or brave a walk on the pipe that emerged from under the rocks and stretched across to the boathouse/marine shop at the other terminus.  I usually took the “tightrope.”  It was a huge diameter pipe with a broad surface and easy to walk on, but it was well above the surface of the ocean below.
Crossing directly to the other side was out of the question. The property to the boathouse/marine shop was fenced off.  A pipe ran straight out from the beach and joined with the big pipe a little past midway. It had a much narrower gauge than the big pipe, about one quarter the size.  Walking it was an high wire act, a misstep left me straddled on a couple of occasions, but I made it to shore unscathed and dry.
From there It was back to the surface streets again and the ultimate goal, the park.
The Pipe

About rwoz2

Poet, historian, writer for stage and screen. Responder to Jesus (Romans 5:8)

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