Sunday, June 29, 2014



Such a departure from my static sandstone canyons. Not foreign in the least, as I'd grown up among the coastal California landscapes but a whole different world as a photographer. 

Noisy and wet, cold and damp. Walking on these rocks was like walking on concrete shards of glass. The patterns and textures of the natural jetties were beautiful and with each wave, little waterfalls sprung to life. Sea spray danced as the waves crashed and little pockets of tide pools hide their treasures. 


It was moving and rhythmic. 

Melancholy

Primordial