Biking on the beach, drinking brews, and hanging out to feel the last of the spring sun at Half Moon Bay.

Just down the seawall, “LOCALS ONLY” was painted in heavy, runny pink krylon on one of these same rocks. Who was at this beach? No one seemed a local, to me.

But even more, this slogan made me think on the nature of America in general, and California in particular. This state filled up with the folks who went west until there was no where else to go. Even now, they keep coming. Even these enormous rocks that make up the wall are not “locals,” but transplants, brought in to tame the sea.