iPhone X Pacific Ocean

 

Today I fell in love with Northern California all over again.  The coast specifically and it's ability to completely transfix and consume me.  Either playing in it with board and body or gazing at it until the sun drowns itself in the cold cobalt blue horizon.  Thank you mother ocean, I will pick up 4 pieces of trash on my way back to my house from now on.

Morning Sensations

 Darshan Gooch redistributes some North Pacific energy into the universe.

A lone bunker stands sentry over the cove decaying along with the memory of it's original purpose.  I wonder how many perfect waves it's seen.

A Long Lost Friend Shows Her Face Again

   

I was so shocked I couldn't move from my spot on the hill, the gear was to heavy and cumbersome to reassemble quickly.  I couldn't miss another one of those sets.  Up and down the beach endless peaks of white, feathering North Pacific energy could be seen.  They tapered along sandbars grown solid and refined by the consistent period in the swell.  Surfers tried desperately and often unsuccessfully to ride the saltwater beasts to their inevitable sandy and violent demise.  I finished the roll of film unexpectedly, but found compromise in the fact that I could now join my fellow ocean dwellers in pursuit of the violent waves.

How I Spent my Fourth of July

In Between Swells

I find it hard to believe in things that were once so sure. The seasons have changed their order and made clear the desire to remain past their time. What was once grey blanketed surf oblivion is now sun soaked and wave rich. The winds that seemed never to tire of their journey from the Pacific now rush back out to sea as if to escape the perils of terra firma and it's inhabitants. The last pulses of energy roll with precision over yielding sand before crashing to their demise on an uncrowded shore. If the way things were can become the way that they are now, then there is nothing to believe in except change.

a hundred

OB OVERLOAD

San Francisco's Pacific Coast is a windswept three miles of sandy beach backed by dunes and the encroaching suburban hordes. Constant exposure to the slightest Pacific mood changes and a completely sand bottom means that the peaks are constantly appearing, shifting, and disappearing.

After months of shit waves, constant fog and listening to the the tales of my Southern California brothers' summer scores I was a man unglued. Completely pent up with surf froth. Things have been turning around though. The froth blows off, and my mind can be focused again on something other then locking into the curl of a head high wave I just faded into and seeing it line up and set to pitch all the way inside.