Don't you think this would be a fine place to have lunch ?" "You wait and see where we lunch today, and you will have the answer to that," said Linda, starting back to the Bear Cat.
A few miles farther on they followed the road around the frowning menace of an overhanging rock and sped out directly to the panorama of the sea.
The sun was shining on it, but, as always round the Laguna shore, the rip tide was working itself into undue fury.

It came dashing up on the ancient rocks until one could easily understand why a poet of long ago wrote of sea horses.

Some of the waves did suggest monstrous white chargers racing madly to place their feet upon the solid rock.
Through the village, up the steep inclines, past placid lakes, past waving yellow mustard beds, beside highways where the breastplate of Mother Earth gleamed emerald and ruby against the background of billions of tiny, shining diamonds of the iceplant, past the old ostrich tree reproduced by etchers of note the world over, with grinding brakes, sliding down the breathless declivity leading to the shore, Linda stopped at last where the rock walls lifted sheer almost to the sky.

She led Donald to a huge circle carpeted with cerise sand verbena, with pink and yellow iceplant bloom, with jewelled iceplant foliage, with the running blue of the lovely sea daisy, with the white and pink of the sea fig, where the walls were festooned with ferns, lichens, studded all over with flaming Our Lord's Candles, and strange, uncanny, grotesque flower forms, almost human in their writhing turns as they twisted around the rocks and slipped along clinging to the sheer walls.

Just where the vegetation met the white, sea-washed sand, Linda spread the Indian blanket, and Donald brought the lunch box.