Well, no; that’s a lie. But it was an opportunity to paraphrase from Dickens. It was, instead, a truly remarkable day, though we should be used to those by now; the central coast seems to hand them up regularly, fortunately for us.

The previous entry gives some notion of how the day began. Can’t beat it. But it kept getting better. The plan was to check for locations, attend a rather important meeting with some local officials, get some usable stills, meet with a local artisan, and then sort what we’d learned. In other words, we’d set ourselves with another two-day mad scramble and were just asking for a disaster.

Didn’t happen.

Unlike last trip, we decided to explore for sites on our own and miss the fun and companionship of Kip’s Anchor Cab. That also meant that we had only our map and intuition to guide us, lacking his area knowledge and familiarity.

By the end of the day, we’d met an incredibly talented fabric artist and garment artisan (the only way to describe her work) named Tash Wesp. Typical of the folks who live and produce their art on this left edge of the continent, her clothing stands as unique single expressions, yet they still seem part of the context, somehow, grown from the woods that surround her studio home and the sea that washes in its own inspiration, just down the hill.

Oh, and there was Daisy, an artist in her own right. And like all artists, she chooses her own way. If you’re fortunate, it will cross yours; if you’re very fortunate, it will run alongside. Don’t try to keep up.

Back on the road, we next found a shooting location that was more than we could’ve expected. Like a couple of earlier ones, it nearly exactly fit the concept developed in the script. It was like someone had tapped into the writer’s head, however revolting that thought may be. This one went way beyond, though. It gave us a shot background with a 30-mile coastal view from more than 300 feet above the shore. Green screen that one, you hobbit people.

With one of us mildly scattered from a departing virus and both of us a bit spacey at the amazement of coming across the site so unexpectedly, we wound up the day by cruising the Nye Beach neighborhood. Lo and whatever, we hit the ideal spot to relax: Nana’s Irish Pub. Nothin’ like a good meal and a Guinness while you’re sorting out the day’s finds. And it was a great day for finds, indeed. None of this is paid, by the way; some stuff is just so great you have to talk about it.

Oh, and a peaceful stroll through the fog back to the car turned up a couple more location potentials. I think the word is serendipity.