Some of my earliest memories; correction, my earliest memory is of my parents taking me into the ocean. At almost 40 years of age, it’s amazing the recall my brain can produce. It’s become dim over the years, but I can make out the Oceanside Pier, the feeling of unease making our way past the breakers, and the serene peace as you punch through the final breaking wave and float, bobbing amongst the ground swells.
That memory has withstood some 37 years; that, and the accumulation of ocean memories since then. Getting pounded with football-field-long closeouts as a kid at D Street, or the summer swells of 2015 at the ramp. I feel connected to the stretch of ocean I’ve spent my entire life beside in Encinitas.
Admittedly, when there are waves, I would much rather be surfing. The majority of my water photography has been on flat days, when the water’s warm; just me out swimming around, diving and mapping the reefs I surf mentally, and to a lesser capacity, photo archiving.
Regardless of all of that, this was a beautiful day in San Diego; the crowd was light, and the waves might not have been firing, but were nevertheless special, unique, and enjoyable.
