The 101st United States Open Championship, contested at Pebble Beach Golf Links June 13-16, 2019, unveiled some special moments and memories. This is just one of many.
It was getting close, and I can feel it.
Leaving the 101 and dropping down from Castroville to the Coastal Highway, the Interstate stiffens quickly into a two-lane roadway on its journey to Monterey, California.
The iconic roadway dips, winds, and then rises out of the growing fields that are the heartland of California’s abundance and then, turning southwest, it slumps deeper towards the bay.
Patiently enduring the endless rows of artichokes and endive stretching mile after mile, the low-lying, coastal dunes emerge as a stark contrast to the lush gardens I’ve left behind.
As I approach, I pop the window, inviting it in because I feel it’s nearness.
In my excitement, I miss my exit and have to do a turnaround. But when I arrive, its perfect.
My hotel is on the beach with an ocean view overlooking the Bay and the sights, sounds, and essence of the sea are intoxicating.
I have arrived on a personal journey, and with that first glimpse, I straighten as my gaze lifts to a scented mist that envelopes the entire setting, and I’m all alone on the brow of a ship meeting the headwind, and the sea breezes that are a constant presence.
And I feel as if I’m home.
Pundits say it’s the chemicals in the air.
An outcome of the ionization of plankton, seaweed, fish, and salt that combine, diffuse out and embrace the senses long before you get close to the shore.
A boosted sense of nature that feeds the expectancy that always proceeds the arrival.
No matter how long you wait or how far you have traveled to get here.
Perhaps you have caught a glimmer of the sun’s reflection off the waves on the horizon, or the haze of the marine layer that hangs off the coast, or the cawing of gulls hovering above the beaches.
Whatever those sensations are, it is the ions in the air that are bringing them home.
The perfume of the shore at low-tide with waves that call out, their mist rising, an attar you have never forgotten.
With the tang of that first whiff, your senses awaken, all of them enhanced, as the briny sea smell escalates, soaring, greeting you as you approach closer, and you know, this is the ocean.
As I lift my head into the breeze and feel the magnificence, power, and vastness of something infinitely more significant than anything in my immediate future, I stand in awe and try to comprehend the unimportance of whatever has transpired before this very moment.
I have returned to this place to smell the ocean, unlock my memories, and finish a story that has haunted my dreams.
The sea awaits, the fragrance as I remember, and I muse to myself how many other memories will be revealed on this, my last journey to the sea?
Jeff Waters is a Master PGA Professional and a Member of the Golf Writers Association of America.
