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SHORT STORY

Rainbows...
(or my homage to the Lord’s angels)

How can I describe the glory and the beauty by using mere words? It is simply not enough.
It is impossible to convey images, feelings and emotional states, --not to mention states of
consciousness only attained in contemplation without prejudice or judgment, through
meditation¾ into words. No, I repeat, it is not possible and one feels alone with that feeling, it
seems amazing not to be able to share it with others. It is undoubtedly something very
personal. Maybe lovers are touched by it when contemplating Nature and even more, loving
each other. But this love of Nature is of a different nature in its own right. It’s awe inspiring
and a reassurance of our path in Life. But I believe that one can share these experiences right
there and then, as they are witnessed. There are others present: God’s witnesses, His angels.
They are the witnesses and the provokers of such experiences. So if you believe in them, then
they present themselves and enjoy incredible experiences with you. Tears roll down your
cheeks you have to hide so the blind will not ask. How could we explain to them? But it is
there for all to see. “Those who have eyes to see...” Though sometimes it is too much... only in
a greater state of consciousness... Well, I think we must all seek it out, I can only say from my
basic perspective: the world would be a better place if every human being on this wonderful
planet just sat and watched Nature unfold before their very eyes.

It happened this weekend, on Sunday. I got up at 6:30. The day was windy and bitterly
cold. The South wind would not leave us the whole journey. Outside the hotel the temperature
was almost -5° C. Once we were all in our 4WD and on the way to the sandy dunes, where the
rally was to take place, it was evident that there would be rain showers as well. The
topography of this region has a raw beauty. Huge sand dunes tower over the beach like
mountains. Like the Sahara desert spilling into the sea. Here and there, small cliffs break up
the continuity. The waters were high already on account of the southern wind. The waves
broke with unusual fury, and the foam was everywhere. There was no water, no crystalline
water, I mean. Just surf. White spray. Thick as bath tub foam. It accumulated on the sand and
the wind would blow it apart and one could play with it chasing it all over the beach, and it
would climb the smaller dunes, in an endless dance with the wind. Our Isuzu Trooper was
white with salt. The rally cars and the motorbikes splashed all over it. The foam ran like mad,
as if chasing a ghost or as if trying to escape from the great ocean. There was so much of it
and it was so cold that the sea looked as if it were covered in snow. What a sight! I can’t tell if
the tears that rolled down my cheeks were real or if it was because of the wind in my face.
Nevertheless it was awe inspiring. Raw beauty expressing itself. Nature showing one of her
infinite faces.

It was a great pleasure to compose pictures with the rally cars and the sea, the sky and the
sun rays filtering through the clouds. In the distance we could see the city shadows of
Necochea backlit by those rays just dimly filtering through the overcast sky. Rays and more
rays, surf adding to more surf. Sand onto sand. Strange fractal geometry drawn on the sand by
the wind and rain. An amazing place. Hares running away frightened by the noise of our
infernal machines shattering the peace of such an incredible land.

We would now drive parallel to the coast on the small cliffs; now on the beach itself
splashing our way through the surf chasing the rally cars, shooting television pictures with my
huge and cumbersome ¾10 kg¾ camera, awesome pictures, mind you; now on a grassy
meadow bathed in sun light with an old stone house in shambles. There were places that
seemed out of this world, like on Mars or the Moon. Wreckage of rocks all over the sand, and
a real wreck of a ship with its skeleton still showing stranded up on the beach. The cars had to
negotiate these dangerous enemies. Not all came out well. There were many injuries. Just the
cars, I mean. And there were rivers to cross. Not an easy task due to the amount of water that
was being drawn into the mighty sea. Some broke down right in the middle of those wild
running streams. Others almost got me. Well in fact it was just one. The same car that last year
was running wildly towards me in another river crossing, and thanks to a friendly rock avoided
my parting from this realm so soon. The man is really wild. Crazy would be a better term. He
was passing another car when he found himself on the verge of crossing a flooded stream just a
few yards from the ocean. As he approached the river, he did not realize that there was no way
to cross, unless he gave up his position to the car he had already overtaken. So he accelerated,
literally falling into the water as there was a big step he had to overcome. I was on the other
side of the stream, shooting it all with my camera. I had not calculated a mad guy like him
would cross at that point and come straight towards me. He was blinded on account of the
splash. He did not see me. There, enter the Lord’s Angels. The guy veered to his right and I to
mine, avoiding the collision. Amazingly I went on taping the whole event, shooting the
crossing of the other car as well. The tracks he left were right where I was standing a few
seconds before. It happened in a fraction of a second and as I remember it, I felt like one of
those cartoon characters that skid on the place they are standing and then dart off like wild
goose. But my heart did not pound with after-fear, so to speak. There had been no time for the
adrenaline to accumulate. I just went on working normally as if nothing had happened. Another
amazing thing. Of course, the guy came to apologize later.

But that is not all. We had many other experiences that Sunday 17th June, 2001.
The sun kept going in and out, and we had to put up with the occasional shower. The
wonderful thing about it was that those showers were heralded by... can you imagine what
gave us the clue…? Rainbows... yes, wonderful and extraordinary rainbows. We must have
seen at least five or six of them. The first one was not far out into the sea. Its colours were
vivid and the hues were very intense. The whole arc could be seen. It was further away from
the breaking waves. A second concentric arc was bigger though thinner and less vivid. I
stopped to take some shots. I missed my 35 mm Nikon. I could only afford to carry my rugged
Sony camcorder. I began to wonder and think about my friend Susan and remembered the
awesome 40 minutes rainbow that saluted us as we approached the Geneva airport flying over
Lac Léman in September 2000. What a glory that was. And here I was in small company, with
the awesome rainbows striking out of the sea and sky, as if saying: Hello!!! I had to wave back.
It wouldn’t have been polite otherwise. Those magnificent angels were telling us they loved us,
and were showing us their own way of expressing it: beautiful rainbows…, angel rainbows.

The most beautiful one of them all came later when we were half way to the top of an
immense dune. There was no sun. But one moment later, its warmth began caressing me while
I was waiting for the first enduro bikes and the cars to appear. The wind would not stop, so I
put my camera on my right shoulder and looked north with my back to the wind, indulging in
the sun’s rays. Then, all of a sudden, I turned around and a huge rainbow appeared right on top
of the waves. Its ends seemed suspended there with huge rich, thick and bright colours. As the
first bike approached our standing point, the rainbow began moving... towards us! Little by
little one of its legs began sweeping over the surf and landed on the beach! Was the pot full of
gold at its foot? I guess so! The guy with the Yamaha almost went through it as he sped
towards the beach. Never in my life have I seen such incredible scenery. A moment later it was
pouring. The wind seemed to have grown to gale force and we had to leave, pursuing the cars
once again. My tears merged into the rain, I didn’t have to pretend now. Thanks to the amazing
angels my job was like floating on a cloud, weeping with happiness. Feeling One with God.

At the end of the day the storms had ceased, but not the wind. The sea was still high so the
cars could not ride on the beach. It was still very cold, but I was happy as never in my life. I
regretted not having someone to share my feelings with. Not everyone had experienced what I
had.

As a bonus and so as not to leave any doubt whatsoever, we reached a small beach resort,
with a few houses, closed for the season. The sun was setting, leaving its red tint printed on the
white houses. From here we would leave our crazy adventure driving on sand dunes and rocks,
or even sliding on the surf. It was a short cut to the paved road to the city. The little town, now
in shadows, is called... Los Angeles.

Marcos Molina-Baker
ã 2003

Note: Necochea is a small city off the Atlantic coast, about 500 km from Buenos Aires, Argentina

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