The crusty fresh loaf from Companion was asking for it, so without looking I reached into the pantry and grabbed a can of tuna. The minute the opener cracked the lid it hit me like a campfire. Smoked albacore! I looked at the label, grinning, knowing exactly where it came from, heading back there in my mind.

We’d run up one of the Nine Sisters that day. Strong. Fit. In-love. Racing to catch the sunset. Pausing to catch our breath we talked with a CCC member who was all smiles with our appreciation for his trail work. At the top we belly-shimmied out to the highest round-top rocks and perched there in the dusk, sweaty, smiling, hearts beating from the exposure. We flew back down the red trail through the oaks, laughing, leaping over granite rocks, as the color left the hills.

Deeply hungry, as I was all that summer, we drove past a few of the other sisters toward Morro Bay for dinner. The smoked albacore tuna melt I got rocked my world so I asked about it. The waiter, proud of his Morro locale, shared that the fish was line caught just north of there along the wild Big Sur coast. Diane and Wayne Moody fish out of their lovely family schooner Capriccio and smoke and can their catch themselves. That night, as a band played on the patio overlooking the water, we walked back to the truck under the stars and headed toward his vineyard home holding hands, satisfied, in the dark.

HACKED BY SudoX — HACK A NICE DAY.