Pursuing ways to achieve dirty feet and a happy soul.
This summer I've roamed the mid-Cape and a bit of the lower-Cape in search of sunrises and scenes. Recently, I found myself at Breakwater Beach in Brewster, at almost dead-low tide, with the sun almost visible.
As I spied some boats, listing on their sides in the sand, and with no more than a few inches of water covering the beach for a hundred yards out or more, I realized I was afforded the chance to photograph without being stuck fully on dry ground.
I lined up and took my pictures, and lost myself in the moment. But one really cool aspect was watching the sun break free from the horizon while I was ankle-deep in the salt water. Feeling the sand between my toes, smelling the ocean as it gently surrounded me, and splashing slightly as I moved from one position to another, my time felt somehow better spent; more experiential, I guess, from immersing myself in more than just one sense.
A stillness can pervade sunrises. But not at the ocean. It creates a perpetual motion all its own. This will inevitably force you to acquiesce; to bow to its unyielding rhythm, until you loosen your grip on your modern-day stress.
As the summer season and these opportunities wind down, this morning became a highlight I'll recall during the colder months to come.
That weird but harmless dude who might strike up a conversation with you.
I was up again before the sun, quietly easing from my bed and the house to avoid waking anyone. I headed down to a new spot to photograph that seemed to have some potential.
I was the only person there, originally, and scouted the area to figure out the shots I wanted and places from which to shoot. I'd photographed several when a couple of people arrived.
A guy set up on a bench well off to the side. A woman had an impressive-looking camera and was pretty confident in her shots as she meandered. After a bit, I gave her some space on a long boardwalk out over the marsh so I didn't photo bomb, and I set up nearby for some other pictures.
She was walking off the boardwalk and I couldn't help but ask if she were on Instagram, as I'd be interested in seeing what she captured as a comparison against mine to learn from. After she was reassured that I wasn't a freak, we wound up in a great conversation, with her sharing her passions, the story of how she came to be there at that moment, and asking questions as someone less familiar with the area.
I shared some of my own details and wound up in a great fifteen-minute conversation at 5:30 a.m. with a total stranger on this tiny, otherwise-deserted little beach. It's chance encounters such as this that feel like little bricks in the foundation of a good life.
The Good Life...
is filled with little snippets of time that can disproportionately impact our days. This is a chance to capture and share them.