The view from the end of America

I was awakened Saturday morning by the sound of waves crashing on the rocks beneath my window, a soothing reminder of my escape.

The stress of these times drove us to the north coast of California. It had been more than a year since we had last seen this place where land meets sea, a tiny piece of paradise for our little family.

The longing for this spot on the Pacific finally overcame the logistical challenges of getting a baby, two dogs, two adults and a truckload of luggage here.

Our favorite place no longer has a name. We have told a number of people about this nearly untouched spot on the coast, the ultimate escape from a fast-paced life. But the more we tell, the less untouched it becomes, so it's now a secret, just for us.

It is what I envision Incline Village would be if time had stopped in about 1965. There are just enough amenities to stay comfortable, but not so many as to burden the visitor with choices.

It is an isolated place, on the way to nowhere. The people who come here do so with great effort, and are rewarded with peace. It was the cure for what ailed me.

Our room on top of the waves doesn't have a phone, nor did it need one. It did have a television, positioned between the view of the green grass that covered the land, and the deck that looked over the waves.

Among the 10 channels was CNN, which brought news of the war to our paradise. There was a meaningless discussion on which side had committed the worse atrocity. War in itself is an atrocity, necessary perhaps, but certainly atrocious. The dead care not if their demise was in compliance with the rules of war.

This debate and hundreds like it take away from any real examination of why we were at war in the first place. Such deep discussion is lost on an audience conditioned to watch people eat worms while wearing bikinis. Reality is too deep for the Reality-TV audience.

The wave will break soon on this genre, just like it did for the shows before. It will be swept out to sea like so much driftwood, eventually washing up on shore again, a little worse for wear. Another Star Search will be born.

The stars above this ocean hamlet sparkle like no place else. The sounds of the sea give voice to this spectacle, as the waves eat away at the land, piece by piece. The power of the ocean wears away the cliff below my window, breaking it down into rocks, then pebbles, and then sand that it drags back out to sea.

These cliffs were formed by geological forces that caused the earth's crust to revolt against its watery ruler, sending rock upwards to meet the air. Since that revolution, waves chip away at this challenge to the ocean's rule of the world.

Mankind has asserted it power over the land, but the ocean defies control. We can build great machines, humiliate each other on television and kill our fellow man with smart weapons, but we can't stop the waves from crashing.

Out there where the sun sinks into the sea is the end of America, and the beginning of the rest of the world. That boundary gets closer with each day, and each high tide.

Perhaps one day we'll realize there is no "over there" with which to make war against, just here.

Kirk Caraway, a Carson City resident, is editor of the North Lake Tahoe Bonanza in Incline Village.