Old man and the sea

For the week I spent surfing and seeing family in Florida I would generally dawn patrol on this particular stretch of beach, and would come across this same old man every morning. He would be there fishing before I was and would stay longer than I would. I was astounded at this man's dedication to the sea. I never got the chance to talk to him, but it seems like he's been doing this same routine for years. All I could think of is how I can only hope to be that passionate about what I love doing when I'm his age.

Shadows

"The shadow proves the sunshine."

Home

Decided to take a moment to celebrate a new board (a 9'4 Almond Lumberjack) and a clean room (which doesn't happen often enough). This is where I call home.

What used to be

This windmill stands in the middle of a suburbanized, cookie-cutter house neighborhood. The area used to be covered in orange groves and avocado groves. As the monster developers began to move it, farms were slowly bought out, and people learned that every man has his price. Everyone but the owner of this plot of land. He held on. Stood strong. So now this is what remains. A ghost of the past and a monument to “sticking it to the man.”

Alone

This lone telephone pole lives on top of the mountains in the Cleveland National forest. There’s no homes up there, no buildings, just empty air. All of those lines run straight into the ground. I’ve always wondered why it’s there and if calls have ever been made over it’s lonely lines.

Going Underground

View from the Top

Last glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge on a flight home to L.A.

Northbound on the 101

This was home for a few days on a recent surf trip up to Santa Barbara. Waves were small, but perfect for logging. The all day glass-offs, solo dawn patrols, heavy kelp beds, offshore winds, and foggy mornings with sun through the late afternoon and into the clear nights made life feel far removed from the crowded line-ups of Southern California.

Where the Streets Have No Name

It amazes me how many people don’t know about this place. It’s one of the most inspiring places in the world. U2 has an album named after it. The Eagles coined the name “The Eagles” on peyote while camping here. The land here is littered with abandoned gold mines, and the canyons are lined with Native American petroglyphs. Some go here to get lost. Others come to find themselves.

Worlds Apart

While I was watching the last breath of light fade, someone on the other side of the world was watching dawn break. It’s a perpetual: at every second of everyday there is both a sunrise and sunset somewhere in the world. This second happened to be mine.

This is the inside of my Jeep turned bed on a recent surf trip up to Santa Barbara. Turns out with all my seats folded down and my spare tire stashed under the car I can fit an air mattress in there and sleep pretty comfortably. The bonus was the view of the stars out of my car windows.

Fins

After getting home from surfing this morning, I noticed this photo just begging to be taken. Expect the film version in a few days (I’ve gotta finish shooting my roll of 120mm). For sure looking forward to getting this roll back.

No Parking

This photo almost cost me a ticket. Apparently a police officer didn’t think “needing to take a photo” was enough to justify parking next to a no parking sign along a street that was one solid red curb. He let me off the hook on this condition: I wouldn’t break the law the rest of the night. 

Lesson Learned: a camera is a great escape route.

All Aboard