I posted this photo on my Facebook page yesterday. It's a surf shot; not a particularly interesting pic at first glance, just a guy caught inside on a good size day at my local spot during a hurricane swell last summer. I posted on FB with the short blurb about how photos take us back to a place we've been before. But today I found myself staring at this particular photo, as so much memory and emotion swirled through me as I was brought back to that day, that moment. And as I studied it I saw so much more than might be seen in a casual glance, by an observer who was not there in that moment, was not there for that day.
First I can see the shadows in the foreground and the slight golden hue on the whitewater; the shot was taken in the late afternoon, the sun perhaps minutes from setting, the foreground shadows from the vegetation and high bluff overlooking the spot. There's no beach sand visible which reveals that the tide is incoming and the beach here has already flooded over, yet the wave is still breaking with some authority over the sandbank. The surfer is caught inside, fighting the incoming tidal surge, and his arms are probably spaghetti from hours of paddling. Yet he's still out there, preparing his duck-dive, probably muttering an expletive, and hoping there's no more waves after this one. He just wants to get back out to the lineup; there's probably another half hour of light left in the day and the others have all taken their last rides. If he's lucky, he'll catch a few more before he too lets the sets sweep him in. And in that short window, he'll have his pick of the sets, and he'll have his solitude...
