Lonely Path Pines

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Fifty feet of open road separate Pine Loft's southern gate from the tree line — enough space to reconsider. The pines on the other side are tall and pressed close together, their trunks dark and their canopy so dense that what light reaches the forest floor comes in as a diffuse green glow through the branches. The road enters the forest the way a road enters a tunnel, through an arch of bark and shadow that closes the sky off almost immediately.

The pines run west until they meet the cliff's edge, where the land drops hard into the ocean below. East, they continue until distance and dark take them from view. There is no obvious end in either direction.

Standing at the edge, just before the trees begin, is a sign mounted on a heavy square timber post. It has been here long enough that the wood has weathered to gray, but the lettering is still clear. Someone maintains it.