The Sunset at Pacific Grove
- Susan Shi
- Jun 5
- 6 min read
Updated: Jun 17
Prologue: The Rocks and Pines of Lovers Point
Arriving in this coastal town around four in the afternoon, the sky was a soul-cleansing blue, the sunlight dazzling, the water serene, and the sea breeze gentle. I thought to myself that tonight, I would finally witness the long-awaited Pacific sunset.
The inn we checked into sat right beside the renowned Lovers Point, just a two-minute walk away. Looking at the map, Pacific Grove is a prominent peninsula stretching into the Pacific Ocean; it is said that standing among the rugged crags of Lovers Point, one can watch the sunset to the west and the sunrise to the east.
To our surprise, by the time we finished checking in and headed to the town center for dinner, thick clouds had already gathered in the sky. The color of the ocean shifted from the afternoon’s bright azure to a pale gray.
Remembering the volatile weather of this region and the shifting marine layers of the mornings and evenings, a sense of helplessness rose within me. Witnessing a sunset here truly requires a bit of luck.
Fortunately, the temperature was pleasant and the wind was calm, so we spent some time climbing among the rocks of Lovers Point. Waves crashed against the dark gray crags, splashing into bursts of white foam. Seagulls of all sizes filled the air—some gliding gracefully through the sky, others perching quietly on the pine and cypress trees bordering the rocks.
The pines and cypresses here are remarkably distinct. The wind, mist, rain, and sunlight along the coastline have acted like a master artist, sculpting powerful trunks and sharply defined branches.
They stand evergreen, without fear or worry, looking like individual works of art poised between the waves, the rocks, the sand, and the sky—painting the majestic grandeur unique to the California coast.
Flavor and Freedom at the Dining Table
This weekend was Veterans Day, and the town had a fair share of visitors. Having admired the uncanny craftsmanship of nature, the crowds also brought a welcome touch of commerce to this tranquil town.
A ten-minute walk from Lovers Point brought us to the center of town. We found a seafood restaurant called "Wild Fish." Our server shared that a new chef had arrived six months ago, bringing a complete elevation to the quality of the cuisine. Sure enough, the two seafood entrees my husband and I ordered were incredibly tender and fresh.
Still lingering in the joy of the meal after dinner, we noticed a live jazz band beginning their evening performance. Reluctant to leave, we ordered a strawberry crumble paired with basil ice cream.
This remarkably creative dessert combined the tart sweetness of strawberries with the rich texture of the crumble, infused with the unique fragrance of basil and softened by the creamy sweetness of the ice cream—leaving a beautiful resonance on the palate.
The two of us did something completely unprecedented: we cleared the entire dessert plate. Only then did we wander out of the restaurant, fully content, amidst the warm, relaxed atmosphere of the jazz music.
Even though we missed the sunset tonight, this near-perfect dinner and the leisurely, unhurried pace of the town set an exceptionally beautiful tone for our stay. It was a night free from digital distractions, facing the ocean, where spring flowers bloom in the warmth.
The Sky's Curtain Rises and the Coastal Path
The heavens seemed to have overheard the slight note of disappointment in my journal yesterday from missing the sunset. The next day, after a morning shrouded in overcast skies, a narrow, azure horizon emerged over the sea level around two in the afternoon. It looked like a massive curtain slowly being pulled upward, as the clouds grew thinner, allowing glimpses of sunlight to break through in places.
By five in the afternoon, the entire sky had cleared. The sun hung in the western sky, casually radiating its blazing, dazzling light, as if to say, "I have been here all along!" There were still more than three hours until the 8:15 sunset. Wonderful—tonight, perhaps I would finally meet the sunset I had missed for so long!
A coastal sunset can shift its precise location over the horizon depending on the season. Tonight, the sunset at Pacific Grove happened to be obstructed by the houses and trees on the peninsula to my left. To ensure I wouldn't miss this encounter, at 7:45 PM, I started walking from the shoreline in front of our inn, following the pedestrian trail that hugs the coast tightly, wrapping around the peninsula to greet that magnificent moment.
On the trail, there were a few other pedestrians scattered in small groups—some walking their dogs, some sitting on wooden benches facing the water, and others chatting quietly while taking in the coastal scenery. Both sides of the path were carpeted with the region's famous purple-flowering ground cover, which some call the ice plant, and others simply refer to as the "Magic Carpet."
The flowers bloomed early this year, so the purple blossoms before me had already begun to wither. Yet, one could easily imagine what a dazzling canvas it would be when this purple carpet spans the entire coastline, mirroring the blue sky, emerald sea, rugged rocks, and crashing waves.
The sea breeze gently stirred my hair, and my coat did a wonderful job of shielding me from the evening chill. The deep, melodic, and never-ending roar of the waves crashing against the shore filled my ears, instantly settling my mind into absolute stillness. The air carried the unique, slightly salty scent of the sea—crisp and clear like a fresh mountain spring, leaving a trace of cool refreshment against my skin.
On this journey to meet the sun, my eyes, ears, and nose felt entirely nourished by the beauty, the celestial sounds, and the breath of nature.
Communing with the Sunset
After nearly thirty minutes of brisk walking, I rounded the northernmost tip of the peninsula. Finally, on the westward path, a crimson sun leaped into my field of vision just ahead to my left! Its light was no longer as dazzling as before; instead, it had grown gentle and restrained, shaped like a freshly boiled, still-steaming egg yolk.
In the sky surrounding the sunset, shades of red, orange, and yellow bled into one another, resembling a massive watercolor painted across heaven and earth—dense with atmosphere, capturing the very soul. The sun sank beneath its ocean horizon so gracefully, so slowly, as the sky gradually darkened, leaving the nearby rocks and sea as deep, shadowed silhouettes.
I walked down to the shoreline where large crags of rock accumulated beside the path. I was entirely alone, facing this breathtakingly beautiful sunset. I stood in silence, completely blown away, yet within my heart, an infinite sense of peace and joy slowly began to rise.
An individual life in such a scene, though small, feels entirely fulfilled; even if solitary, it never feels meaningless. For in this moment, you are an intrinsic part of the universe. Your breath connects with the sky, and your blood flows as one with the earth. This, perhaps, is the exact moment the ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi realized thousands of years ago: “communing alone with the spirit of heaven and earth.”
At this moment, I felt that this sky, this sea, this rock, this seagull, this pine tree, and even the ground cover beneath my feet were all me, and I was them. Across this universe, whether born from an egg, a womb, moisture, or transformation, all life forms are fundamentally one. I have never been lonely.
I have no idea how long I stood there, lost in a daze among the rocks, filled only with pure joy and a complete loss of self. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up.
"It's getting dark. Time to head back to the inn?"
My husband had started looking for me. I smiled, thinking to myself: to still be tethered by a gentle care in the mortal world is a beautiful and heartwarming thing.
Postscript: A Rich Abundance Brought Home
In just three days and two nights in this coastal town, I fully enjoyed the beautiful scenery, exquisite food, and a slow-paced atmosphere. During the day, I also took some time to visit the local cultural center.
Though small, it was entirely complete, offering classes in painting, theater, musical instruments, and dance—everything one could hope for. I made sure to save their contact information; perhaps I can encourage the young local painters and poets to participate in the Tian Hong Foundation's Youth Poem and Art Contest this year!
Of course, I didn't forget my love for a touch of artistic charm on this trip. In a beautiful boutique filled with local art, I found two delightful pieces to take home: a hand-painted blue ceramic flower basket from Portugal, and a pale yellow table lamp crafted entirely from natural leaves.
As I bring them back into my home, I carry with me nature’s rich and abundant gift to the five senses, and to the soul.
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