Depending on the time of day, the scene at this beach is entirely different. I’m not sure which one I prefer better.
Having spent almost a week here, I had plenty of opportunities to take in the view. I think perhaps that I like the early morning view for the stillness of the water. If I think about it much longer, I’ll probably change my mind.
The defining characteristic of Carnon Plage is the circularity of the shore. (BTW: Plage is the French word for beach.) Breakwaters were constructed to prevent erosion such that waves passing through form rings. The beach is therefore circular and, there is more of it than if it were merely straight. In the end, it makes for good picture taking, which for me, is all that seems to matter.
When I was here, I went a little snap-happy and took way too many shots of the sky. But that’s a known hazard of watching the sunset in San Fran.
As I look at this, I think if not for the photos, I would’ve forgotten all about it. These are not the kinds of things that stick in my memory very well. However, the picture brings back many details of that night, now nearly five years later.
It may sound conceded, but I like looking at my own photos. In part, that’s because they bring back memories of the experience. Maybe it’s a sense of nostalgia because often the memory exceeds reality. I think we reconstruct memories to build a better story. I’m not sure that makes sense, but those are my thoughts.
One little tip about shooting waves at the shore is tripod legs sink when the water washes over. So, if the exposure is too long, objects get blurred. Another tip is to wash off the tripod legs in freshwater as soon as possible. A couple of helpful pointers for you photo bugs.
So this is the pier in Venice, it’s a shot I’ve done before, but each time is a little different. This time I included only the sun’s edge, so its presence is felt without becoming the scene’s focus. At least that’s how my left brain explains what the right brain did without asking permission.
After the long red tide, it’s nice to see the beaches back to normal. The fish have returned, and fishers are back at it.
A lot of research has gone into determining the causes of the toxic algae bloom. Historically, this has occurred for decades if not centuries. It’s possible that man is aggravating it, and it’s likely there are other causes, such as colonies of it endemic to the deep in the gulf.
Nevertheless, it wreaks havoc on coastal communities in Florida. It’s gone for now, and we hope it stays away. But after the last eighteen months, everyone is a little on edge. Most importantly, it gives us a new appreciation for the years when we don’t have it.
One of the reasons I do seascape photography is that it reminds me of things bigger than myself. It’s easy to forget that we are part of a much larger universe.
When we are children, everything is new, and we are often in a state of awe at the world around us. Then we develop thought patterns and an ego. We get through life by constructing a story of who and what we are. But that inward-looking drive comes at a cost: we forget the awe.
When I create images with a minimal theme, the open space is a reminder to myself, and anyone else, that we are part of something beyond the daily grind. Once in a while, I like to remind my self of that.
There is a barrier of dunes that run the length of Anna Maria Island. Plants grow in the dunes and as a result, protect it from the onslaught of the sea.
It’s incredible how nature comes up with devices to protect one thing from another. The forces of nature are regularly at war, and the results of the conflict create a boundary that, in this instance, we call a beach.
Sometimes I like to get down into the trenches with the troops. In this case, I found a path through the dunes at Manatee Beach. People came to enjoy the sense of peace and tranquility. However, as summer approaches, it will invariably bring new storms that test the resolve of these little dunes. May they hold fast and secure.
I took this photo about three years ago. However, lately, there is an on-going project to re-enforce the seawall so that it doesn’t erode. Because I drive by it several times a week, I was getting tired of seeing the construction equipment. But upon reflection, and through a longer lens of history, it’s probably good that they take all the time they need to get it right.
I took this photo in Pass-A-Grille. The name is anglicized from the French: Passe Aux Grilleurs. It seems it’s always been a favorite place to grill fish.
I’ve only been here a few times in the last decade, but I’ve never grilled fish. Nevertheless, it’s just south of it’s more famous cousin, St Pete Beach. And unlike the communities just north of it, has a distinct village feel.
Anyway, I arrived just before sunset and, just like at all the other beaches in the region, people arrive to watch. In case you haven’t noticed, that’s a favorite photographic subject for me. I am attracted to the colors in the sky and, the scenes it creates of people watching the spectacle unfold. I think we like watching the sunset because, at a subconscious level, it’s a reminder of our place on Earth as it moves through the heavens; and, that we are part of something much much more significant.
Over the holidays we jumped on a last-minute cruise of the Carribean. Living in Florida, these kinds of things are easy to do, just find a cheap ticket and drive to the port.
The ship was Royal Caribbean’s Oasis of the Seas, which is one of the worlds largest. We’ve sailed on a couple of her sister ships, so we already had a good feel for the layout.
I took a few photos that are of a more abstract nature than typical holiday snapshots. Here is a collection with descriptions of each.
West Palm Beach
On our first evening at sea, we sailed down the east coast of Florida from Cape Canaveral. The lights on the left are from West Palm Beach if I’m not mistaken. The first day is always a good time to look out to sea and decompress from life on land.
Here is another shot from the first night, looking to the back of the ship, as the smoke from the engine trails out. These first two shots are long exposures that were stabilized on the balcony railing.
We departed Falmouth, Jamacia in the evening after a very windy day. All day long I wondered how the captain would pull out in such conditions, but as the sun fell so did the wind, and we departed quite easily. I created this long exposure as the ship slowly moved past the dock. The jiggling of the light trails was from my unsteady hand as I held the camera (not necessarily from the Jamaican rum one may be obliged to try).
There are large hot tubs on both sides of the upper deck that protrude out from the sides of the ship on deck fifteen. I didn’t manage to try them out for myself, but that didn’t stop me from taking an architectural shot from our balcony five floors below.
One lazy pastime when leaving a port is to sit on the balcony and watch others board the ship. In Labadee Haiti, there are musicians and dancers on the dock as well. Here I’m aiming directly down at the pier as a passenger walks to the gangway.
The perfect symmetry of the bar stools caught my eye as I wandered around the decks at night. This is one of the outdoor bars that had closed for the evening.
I snapped this as we left our last port of Cozumel. Another pastime for me is to sit on the balcony and read or listen to music. No agenda, no schedule, just free time to do anything or nothing at all.