Photos

Being raised on an island gave me a deep appreciation and devotion to the power of the ocean and it predictable constancy. So far away from my homeland the ocean becomes my soother, my faithful friend and wise listener. Now that I once again live where it’s the first thing I see outside my window every morning, my camera and I, are often roaming the beaches, and the bluffs.
Pacifica is a bit of a secret, not really listed in the tourist books, and oft maligned due to the heavy fog that envelopes it during different times of the year. The truth though is that it is simply a joyful town with beautiful beaches and very few out of towners. You won’t find cabanas on the sand, vendors’ stalls or too many over priced tacky t shirts with silk screened genetic beach scenes and Pacifica written below. What you see are local people fishing in the late afternoon after work, parents walking with their kids, surfers, people walking their dogs, and children. This little guy, whom I learned has only seen the ocean twice, lives in Idaho and dreams of sharks, whales and big waves. He played and laughed and chased the waves and chased the gulls and beckoned the pelicans, and called for the seals, and waved his arms wildly at the far away sailboats, and discovered seaweed, and looked for shells, and ran with his laughter tickling the wind, his bright red hair outshining the sun, and he rolled on the sand. When he reluctantly left, sandy and salty, and sprinkled with salt water, he waved at the ocean and in sing song sweetness bid good bye.
He was simply an American boy playing on the beach.