On my final morning I wandered slowly: one last dip in the pool, coffee at the picnic table, watching the bay’s morning hush. As I broke camp, I felt a tug of sadness — I’d grown attached to the place.
I packed methodically, careful not to leave stray trash or forgotten gear. By noon I was rolling out, but paused at the pier. I cast one last line, watched the water, inhaled salt wind, and promised: I’ll return.
On the drive out, I reflected on the simple joys — sunsets, pier walks, meals under the sky, new friendships. Blue Lagoons didn’t just host me: it restored me.
