Tag: Ocean

Locals Only

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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.

Locals Only

Beachtime

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How do you write about a boy playing on the beach in southern Brazil without resorting to cliché? I’ll have to tackle it, in any case. Summer is ending, weekends at the beach are numbered, and I wanted to make a weekend post just to show this photograph that so effectively conveys the feeling of being the last person at the beach. Even when it’s time to go home, we can still hope for one more wave.

Beachtime

Guest Post: Ghostly Seagulls

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Today’s guest post comes courtesy of Zack Mensinger.

The meetings of rivers or creeks with the ocean are high on my list of favorite things to explore. There’s so much in the meeting of those fresh and salty bodies. When that combination happens along a small beach that you can easily explore and photograph, the possibilities can be nearly endless! In this particular setting, Limekiln Creek in Big Sur meets the Pacific Ocean in a swirling mix of flowing water and waves. Watching how the waves vortex around the flowing water of the creek can be almost hypnotic. Add in the great river rocks, the changing sand, sunset backdrop, and ever-present groups of seagulls and you have a great setting for photography where the timeless nature of the earth and ocean combines with the ever-changing nature of the same setting.

Ghostly Seagulls

Crashing California Cliffs

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Not far from Muir Woods, the Pacific coast cliffs of California are a starker, steeper, and foggier place than I expected. The nearly sheer cliff face, the scraggly trees hanging on for dear life, and the weather- (and person-) beaten railings make the whole place feel mythical. The fog density hit just the right soupiness on this particular day; we could just barely see and hear the waves crashing on the rocks below.

Crashing California Cliffs

Sand Fortress IV

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Another in my ongoing series of sand castle photographs (see I, II, and III), this shot comes from the gorgeous coast of southern Brazil. While everyone else is off playing in the surf, these two boys stayed behind on the beach to construct this complex of truly epic sand castles. (That sand castles are as wondrous and short-lived as childhood is perhaps too trite a metaphor for me to acknowledge in any way beyond the parenthetical.) I just love the universality of building sand castles on the beach–from the east coast to the west, and the from the northern hemisphere to the south, it’s a worldwide past time.

Sand Fortress IV

Pirate Island

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As a child, I held on to the fantasy of discovering a secret island all my own–one stocked with secret forts and pirate treasure and relaxing fishing spots. During our trip to Brazil last fall, I was entranced by the rocky but just-the-right-sized islands off the coast of Florianopolis. If I could have only gotten out there, I know pirate treasure awaited me.

Pirate Island

Coastal Battery

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On the recent trip to Muir woods we took a trip over to an old coastal battery turned park overlooking the ocean. Well, not much really overlooks the coast on a foggy morning like this. It sort of makes one wonder how effective these overlooks were, at least early in the morning. Almost makes you wonder what’s hiding out there in the fog.

Even if it is more Silent Hill than Far Cry the view is a neat one.

Protecting the Coast

California Cthulhu

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Early in the morning, before another human has arisen, in the fog and rain and the sound of crashing California surf, the cliffs of Marin are strange and alien and haunting. They stagger out of the fog, all stunted shrubs and jagged rocks and decaying 20th century gun emplacements. I’ve always rather fancied the idea that America kept expanding until they reached the end of the continent, where the cliffs and the alien landscape drove us all a bit mad.

California Cthulhu

Crashing Wave Path

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Far along the beach, the Atlantic waves crash against Brazilian stone. The Sun has just dropped behind the horizon, and I’m standing on these steps beyond a strange little pseudo-bridge and this odd sculpture. To this day, I’m still not sure whether it’s functional, or purely decorative.

Crashing Wave Path