The trails took us through cliffs and rock formations above the water,
The moodiness of fog
Hardy little wildflowers, solitary and happily withstanding the wind.
I can hear Van Morrison singing 
The rock cliffs have been there forever. Timeless.
Morning fog at Point Lobos almost obscures the coves and lends an air of mystery.
A fence constructed without fasteners of any kind
Succulents grow out of rock.
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